think that’s painful?” the off-worlder demanded contemptuously.
“You know nothing of pain. . . . I was born in pain, have lived with pain every day of my life, and know what real pain is. And so will you unless you answer my questions truthfully.”
“But I have,” Vester protested pitifully. “There is no island of Buru, not that I’m aware of, so how can I tell you about it?”
Tepho slapped his leg with the totem stick and was about to order one of the metal men to put more wood on the fi?re, when Logos spoke. Because the AI’s voice seemed to originate from Tepho, the villagers assumed that two spirits occupied the stranger’s twisted body. They stirred uneasily and sketched protective symbols into the air. “He could be telling the truth,” Logos suggested. “I doubt any of these people have been more than a couple of hundred miles from the village—so their knowledge of geography is bound to be somewhat limited. Not to mention the fact that the island could have been renamed during the years I’ve been absent.”
Vester wasn’t sure where the second voice was coming from, but sensed a potential ally and was quick to agree.
“That’s right!” the subchief said desperately. “We’re ignorant people here. . . . We know nothing of such important matters.”
Tepho tapped his cheek with what had become a swagger stick. “Then who would?” the technologist inquired mildly.
“Lord Arbuk would!” Vester answered eagerly. “He rules from the city of Esperance.”
Tepho turned to the assembled villagers. “Is that true?”
Heads nodded, and a number of voices answered in the affi?rmative.
The administrator eyed their grimy faces. “Who among you has been to Esperance?”
After a pause, and some whispering, three slightly hesitant hands went up. Tepho turned to Shaz and Phan. “Put them in shackles. Kill the rest.”
Rather than waste ammunition on a planet where it could be diffi?cult to obtain more—the combat variant ordered the metal men to carry out the executions with their clubs. Some of the villagers tried to fl?ee, but were quickly run down and dispatched on the spot.
Vester passed out at some point during the bloody process but was returned to consciousness when the rain hit his face. The off-world killers had departed by then, so even though the subchief wanted to die, no one remained to grant his wish. Tendrils of steam rose around the subchief, raindrops fell like tears, and Socket passed high above.
The Planet Haafa
There was a loud crash as the battering ram made contact with the operating room’s door, followed by the sound of splintering wood, and a prolonged screech as two burly policemen pushed the heavy storage unit out of the way. Once the path was clear the chief of police and Ulbri Alzani stepped into the surgery and paused to look around. They saw the operating table, the nude woman who lay facedown on it, and the man who stood next to her. Then there was a fl?ash of light, followed by a miniature clap of thunder, and the tableau disappeared. The table, the woman, and the man vanished into thin air, as did part of the nearest wall, a sizeable chunk of the tiled fl?oor, and the Alzani family’s prized lamp. The reality of that, the fi?nality of it, brought the old man to his knees. And that’s where Ulbri Alzani was, still sobbing, when his number three son came to take the patriarch home.
The Planet Zeen
When Rebo came to he was drowning. The water was crystal clear, which meant he could see the operating table, Norr, and all manner of other objects as they drifted toward the sandy bottom. The runner wanted to breathe more than he had ever wanted anything before. But if he needed to breathe, so did Norr, who continued to sink toward the bottom in spite of her feeble efforts to swim. It felt as if his lungs were on fi?re as Rebo fought his way down to the variant, grabbed a fi?stful of her hair, and kicked as hard as he could. Bubbles raced them to the surface, spray exploded away from the runner’s head, and Norr emerged a second later.
Both spluttered as they gasped for air. Rebo spotted an island, wrapped an arm around Norr’s torso, and kicked for shore. The bottom came up quickly, Rebo found his feet, and cradled the sensitive in his arms as he marched up out of the water toward the smokestack-shaped construct that dominated the center of the island. Norr winced as the runner laid her down in the shade. Rebo saw the grimace, rolled the sensitive onto her side, and saw that her wound had reopened. A rivulet of blood was running down her back. The runner unbuckled his weapons harness, hurried to remove his shirt, and worked to wring as much water out of the wet garment as he could. Norr made a face when the cold, salty fabric came into contact with her wound but knew Rebo was doing the best he could.
Satisfi?ed that the makeshift pressure dressing would stop the bleeding, the runner set about gathering driftwood for a fi?re. Thankfully, there were more than a dozen wax-coated matches in one of his belt pouches. The fi?rst stick broke off just below the head, but the second produced a wisp of smoke, followed by a bright yellow fl? ame. Twigs crackled as they caught fi?re, larger pieces of wood burst into fl?ame, and it wasn’t long before waves of welcome heat rolled over Norr. The shaking stopped soon thereafter, her color improved, and her respirations evened out. And that was when Rebo realized that Sogol was missing. The last time he’d seen the AI she had been coiled up on Norr’s back. The runner wondered where the construct was now. . . . Back on Haafa? But he had more pressing problems to deal with, starting with the fact that Norr still looked pale, and he had very few items to work with. That was when the runner remembered seeing the operating table drift toward the bottom of the sea—and wondered what else might be laying around out there? There was only one way to fi?nd out. Rebo added more wood to the fi?re, knelt next to Norr, and was about to tell her about his plan, when the runner realized that the sensitive was either asleep, or unconscious, a possibility that made his mission that much more urgent.
A quick scan revealed that outside of what might have been another island, and a sail on the far horizon, there was nothing else to be seen other than a nearly cloudless sky and the sea below. Or was it a lake? No, he was a fi?sherman’s son, and knew that the line of seaweed and other debris that ran horizontally around the island represented the high-tide mark, the presence of which implied at least one moon.
Having left both his weapons and boots piled next to Norr and equipped himself with the remains of a broken plank, Rebo retraced his earlier steps down into the sea. Besides providing additional fl?otation, the plank’s other purpose was to help the runner bring salvaged materials back to the beach, assuming he recovered any. The fi?rst objective was to fi?nd the operating table, which, being the largest object transferred, would also be the most visible. Then, assuming the water wasn’t too deep, he would dive to retrieve whatever he could.
Rebo stretched out on the plank, paddled his way out to what he hoped was the correct area, and rolled off into the salty water. Then, with his face down and one arm thrown across the length of wood, he kicked with his
