the robed sensitive led his rotund employer down a twisting staircase—and into the rather primitive medical facility that occupied one corner of the building’s basement. But what waited within was suffi?cient to silence even the land-lord who, as a member of the ruling class, had not only witnessed his full share of brutality but been responsible for some of it himself. Vester, who had suffered greatly during the interminable wagon trip to Esperance, had been laid out on a bed. The crisp white sheets had the effect of accentuating the villager’s fi?lthy body, smoke-blackened clothes, and badly charred feet. The patient’s eyes were closed, but fl?uttered as the sensitive touched his arm, and remained open thereafter. “Tell him,” Mal ordered gently. “Tell Lord Arbuk what happened to your village.”
The villager’s voice was faint, so it was necessary to bend down in order to hear him, and Vester’s breath was so bad it caused Arbuk to gag. But the story was well worth listening to, especially the description of the blue killing machine, which sounded as if it might be a twin to the heavily damaged Raptor II that presently occupied a place of honor in Arbuk’s personal war museum. “Tell me,” the nobleman said, as he pinched his nostrils. “The people who accompanied the killing machine . . . were they norms? Or phibs?”
“Most were norms,” Vester replied, “although some were machines that looked like humans.”
Arbuk was surprised. “Machines . . . you’re sure of that?”
“Yes, sire,” Vester maintained staunchly. “I’m sure.”
“How very interesting,” Arbuk said to no one in particular, as he straightened up. “You were correct, Mal. . . . Subchieftain Vester is well worth listening to. I don’t know who these people are, but I want them found, and quickly, too.”
The lord and his secretary turned, and were about to depart, when Vester produced a croaking sound. Arbuk turned back. “Yes?” the nobleman inquired, “is there something more?”
“Kill me!” Vester begged pitifully. “Please kill me.”
Arbuk glanced at Mal. “Do you have everything you need?”
The sensitive had a clipboard. Vester’s recollections had been written down. “Yes, sire,” the variant answered. “I have every word.”
“Good,” Arbuk replied, as he turned back to Vester.
“Your request is approved.”
The land-lord was halfway back to his offi?ce when the muffl?ed thump of a gunshot was heard, and Vester was free to return to Kine, where the rest of his family had already been buried.
It had been dark for quite a while, and Rebo was asleep in the lean-to that he and Norr had constructed next to the ventilation stack, when the sensitive nudged his arm. “Jak!
Wake up! Where’s the light coming from?”
The runner was already reaching for a weapon when his eyes popped open, and he saw the rays of white light that were streaming down through the cracks in their steeply slanted roof. Pistol at the ready Rebo rolled out onto the brilliantly lit sand and looked upward. The illumination was more concentrated than moonlight—and appeared to originate from space. Norr had emerged by then, which meant Sogol was present as well. “Look!” the variant exclaimed. “I think it’s moving!”
Rebo looked out across the brightly lit water and realized that Norr was correct. It appeared that they were standing in a pool of light that was gradually creeping toward the west. “Of course it’s moving,” Sogol put in matter-of-factly, as she slithered up onto the sensitive’s shoulder. “What you’re seeing is sunlight refl?ected from a mirror aimed at the planet’s surface.”
“But where’s the mirror?” Rebo wanted to know. “And what’s the point?”
“Socket is an artifi?cial planetoid,” the AI explained patiently. “The engineers took many things into account when they constructed it. The creation of tides on a planet where none previously existed led to a variety of problems. Massive public works projects were required to cope with fl?uctuating water levels. That made some sectors of the population unhappy. But, back before Emperor Hios succumbed to his lust for power, he was a capable politician. By providing the citizens of Zeen with low-cost power generated by tide-driven turbines—he overcame their objections to Socket.”
“That’s all very interesting,” Norr commented, as she continued to stare up into the sky. “But what does all that have to do with the light?”
“There were lots of construction projects back in those days,” Sogol answered. “Many of them ran around the clock. So, in order to further ingratiate himself with the planet’s populace, Hios ordered that a steerable mirror be installed on Socket. A mirror that could bounce sunlight down onto the dark side of the planet—and thereby illuminate the project with the highest priority.”
“So, what’s happening now?” Rebo inquired. “Why point the mirror at mostly empty ocean?”
“Like so many other functions on Socket, the solar mirror is simply drifting out of control,” the AI replied sadly.
“And, were I to take control of the refl?ector, Logos would know.”
“It’s best to leave it alone then,” the runner said feelingly.
“We have enough problems already.”
Norr nodded her agreement and held hands with Rebo, as the massive blob of light continued its journey toward the west. Finally, once the darkness had been restored, they went back to bed.
Omar Tepho and his force of humans and robots had traveled a quarter of the way to the city of Esperance when they stopped to spend the night in a fi?shing village called Wattl. A not-very-distinguished gathering of stone-and-wood buildings that was home to a population of norms who liked to refer to themselves as “fi?shermen” but actually made their livings as pirates. Something Lord Arbuk was willing to tolerate so long as the villagers limited their predations to the phibs, who liked to trawl the coastal waters for slat fi?sh, even though that made them vulnerable to the speedy eight-oared cutters crewed by the residents of villages like Wattl.
So, when Tepho guided his raptor into town, closely followed by six metal men and a contingent of twenty-fi?ve heavily armed humans, the locals were torn between fear and greed. But there was scant opportunity for skullduggery as the strangers took control of the only inn, displaced the previous guests, and established a
