Runner (23 page)

Kane jabbed the prisoner again. “We'd better be . . . Because you'll be sorry if we aren't.”

The tomb raider was already sorry, but knew that his captors didn't care and felt an ever-increasing sense of dread as he led them around a corner and into what had once been a small square. A mythical beast dominated the ornate fountain that claimed the center of the open area. Its mouth was open as if to roar, but it had been a long time since water had issued forth from it and splashed into the large circular basin below. “This is the place,” Garth said hopelessly. “The artifact is over there . . . Inside the beast's mouth.”

A brooding silence surrounded the square, and the lamplight left most of the area in darkness. Kane didn't like the subterranean cityscape, not one little bit, and struggled to hide his fear. “Cayo . . . Go get it.”

The functionary winced and wished that he had the courage to say, “No,” but knew he didn't. So, with his lantern held high, Cayo approached the fountain. He climbed up onto the knee-high containment and felt the trash in the basin give under his weight. Something crackled as it broke and Cayo felt his heart leap up into his mouth.

Then, with the lantern held aloft, the operative made his way over to where the beast sat on its well-sculpted haunches. The stone was cold and felt coarse under his fingertips, as Cayo placed a foot on top of a chipped paw and pushed himself up so he was level with the statue's yawning mouth. Anything could have made itself at home inside the black hole, and it required all of the courage that the functionary could muster to reach down into the cavern and feel around.

However, much to the operative's relief, nothing bit his hand, and it soon became apparent that nothing would. Moreover, once he had pulled a fistful of debris out of the way Cayo's fingers encountered something that was round, smooth, and inexplicably warm. It was the gate seed! Momentarily jubilant, the functionary withdrew the object from its hiding place and raised the sphere for the others to see. “I have it!”

Kane's face lit up. “Good job! Toss it to me. Then we'll get out of here.”

Cayo did as he was told and hoped he wouldn't come to regret it. Because now that Kane had the device in his possession, the off-world operative didn't need anyone else. That shouldn't make any difference, however, not so long as the invaders departed the catacombs quickly, which Kane had already started to do.

Cayo hurried to clear the fountain, and had just joined the tail end of the procession, when the
clacking
sound began. The noise wasn't all that loud at first, but soon grew in intensity and seemed to come from every direction at once. “What the hell
is
that?” Kane demanded, as he paused to look around.

“It's the night people,” Garth replied huskily, “banging leg bones together. They use them as clubs.”

“Not
human
leg bones I hope,” Cayo put in, but the answer was obvious, and the rest of the party ignored him.

“We need to buy some time,” Kane said coldly. “Secure the prisoner to that grating. Perhaps he will distract them for a while.”

Garth turned to run, but the shackles made that difficult, and the metal men were on him within seconds. The tomb raider started to gibber as a pair of handcuffs were used to lock him in place—and darkness swallowed him up. The
screams started shortly thereafter and ended so suddenly that there was very little doubt as to the prisoner's fate.

Meanwhile, the intensity of the
clacking
sound continued to increase as Cayo followed the others up the slippery ramp. Now, as they fought their way toward the surface, the functionary realized how stupid they had been. Unlike the metal men, who could generate their own beams of light, both he and Kane were burdened with unwieldy lanterns, which would make it difficult if not impossible to fire his pump-style shotgun.

But that thought was driven from the functionary's mind by the sudden impact of the body that fell on him as he passed below an old ventilation shaft. Cayo had no choice but to drop the lantern in order to reach up and grab a fistful of rags. A simple jerk was sufficient to snatch the eight-year-old attacker off his back and dump the youth onto the ramp. A single blast from the shotgun took care of the rest, but the lantern had gone out by then, and it was pitch-black.

Although the muzzle flash had obliterated Cayo's night vision, he could still back up the ramp and fire the shotgun at the same time. Each
boom,
and the subsequent flash of light, was followed by a
clacking
sound as the functionary pumped a new shell into the chamber. But the tubular magazine held only eight rounds, and as the operative prepared to fire his final shell, he knew there wouldn't be enough time to fumble in his pockets for more. “Kane!” the operative shouted. “Help me!” But the off-world operative had abandoned his own lantern by then, clipped a cell-powered flashlight to the barrel of his shotgun, and was busy following the robots up toward the dimly seen light above. Ning's gravity made it more difficult to move, and his breath came in short, desperate gasps.

Cayo knew he had been abandoned when his weapon clicked empty, then something snarled and a femur struck him across the shoulders. Mercifully the next blow connected with the side of the functionary's head, which allowed him to exit his body prior to the butchery and the subsequent feast. Eventually, after the night people had claimed what was theirs and returned to the stink of their dens, silence was restored. It settled into place like a thick blanket, which was made all the more oppressive by the insistent
drip, drip, drip
of water and the occasional rumble of ancient pipes. One secret had been recovered, but there, deep within the ancient darkness, lay many more.

Aboard the starship
Hewhotravelsthroughtime

In spite of the fact that most of the great starships were nearly identical in terms of basic design, they did have a variety of personalities, which made themselves manifest in unexpected ways, something Norr became acutely aware of as she threw more fuel onto the fire around which the group was huddled. “It's freezing in here!” the sensitive exclaimed. “What's going on?”

Rebo, who was seated on the opposite side of the blaze, took a sip of tea. “Different ships handle the problem in different ways, but it's my guess that the trip is nearly over, and
Hewhotravels
wants his passengers to pack up and board the shuttle.”

Lee had his hands under his armpits in order to keep them warm. “Really? Why couldn't he just announce that? It would be a whole lot simpler.”

“Because, with the possible exception of you, he thinks the rest of us are vermin,” the runner replied. “Not to mention the fact that he
likes
to jerk humans around.”

Norr nodded agreeably. “That sounds like him all right . . . It looks like some of our traveling companions are starting to pack.”

Rebo scanned the immediate area and saw that the sensitive was correct. “Yeah . . . Well, let's get cracking. Remember, Lysander thinks the techno creeps will be on the ground waiting for us, so keep your packs light. Leave the food, your extra clothes, and anything else that can be replaced. We need to be light on our feet.”

Norr opened her mouth to object, but the runner raised a hand. “Don't bother . . . You're a pain in the ass, but my client likes you, so there's no way we're going to leave you on your own.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that your client likes me,” the sensitive replied sweetly. “But what about
you?
”

“That depends,” Rebo replied, “on which one of your personalities I happen to be dealing with at the moment.”

“And how many clothes she has on,” Lee observed impishly, a grin splitting his face.

Norr blushed, and was about to reply, when a Klaxon started to bleat. “It sounds like the old boy is serious,” Rebo put in, and emptied his mug into the fire. The liquid made a
hissing
sound as it hit the coals, and a cloud of steam rose as the group went to work.

Forty-five minutes later Rebo, Norr, Lee, and his red hat escorts tagged on to the end of a ragged line as the passengers filed through an air lock and boarded the waiting shuttle. The queue advanced in a series of fits and starts, and it was during one such pause that Rebo felt a hand on his shoulder. “So, runner,” a baritone voice boomed, “is there room for one more?”

Rebo turned to find that Bo Hoggles was standing right behind him. The heavy was dressed in his usual assemblage
of rags, wore a small knapsack high on his broad back, and carried a war hammer in his right hand. It was a massive affair that consisted of an alloy shaft fastened to a chunk of metal, which, judging from the ports that had been machined into it, had once been part of the spaceship. The runner grinned. “Beats me, Bo, but given the size of that hammer, I'll bet people will make room for you.”

Norr had spotted Hoggles by that time and rushed forward to give the variant a hug. “Bo! It's good to see you again, but we have reason to believe that some rather unpleasant people will be waiting for us on the ground, so I suggest that you steer clear of us.”

The heavy frowned, and his voice rumbled like distant thunder. “I'm tired of living alone. That's why I came. Perhaps the people who are waiting for you would like to meet my friend here.”

Norr eyed the hammer, imagined the kind of damage that such a weapon could inflict, and smiled grimly. “Suit yourself, Bo. But you can always change your mind.”

“Of course I can,” the heavy replied nonchalantly. “But it isn't very likely.”

The group followed the rest of the passengers into the shuttle and positioned themselves to disembark first. The logic was simple. Even though the Techno Society had shown itself to be ruthless, Rebo didn't believe they were stupid enough to fire on a large group of innocent people, especially given the fact that Norr might be killed as well. And, by placing themselves at the front of the crowd, the sensitive and her companions could make it that much more difficult for the opposition to use firearms without running the risk of hitting the wrong people. The plan was far from foolproof, but better than nothing, and had at least some chance of success. A warning tone sounded, hatches cycled closed, and Norr
felt her body attempt to float upward as the shuttle separated itself from the ship. But the old harness held her in place, the transport began its descent, and Ning rose to meet her.

The Planet Ning

What had once been a huge spaceport had contracted as the flow of interplanetary travel was reduced to a trickle and other enterprises crowded in around it. Now, little more than a circular pad remained, as a crowd had started to gather. However, unlike the free-spirited celebrants who came to greet new arrivals on Anafa, this mob was made up of street vendors, pickpockets, and would-be guides. One of them, a strange-looking man with blond hair, was accompanied by a retinue of heavily robed robots, the same sort of metal men that preached on street corners.

If not exactly happy, which might have been constitutionally impossible for someone of Jevan Kane's disposition, the operative was in a relatively good mood. And why not? The gate seed, which Kane was unwilling to entrust to anyone other than himself, hung round his neck and formed a large lump beneath his shirt. That alone represented a successful mission and would be sufficient to silence those who had been critical of him.

Now, assuming that he managed to capture Lanni Norr, the technologist would be able to return to Seros in triumph. The off-worlder's thoughts were interrupted by a shout and an excited buzz as a white contrail appeared, and a loud
boom
rolled across the land. It was a welcome sound, and Kane looked upward with all the rest.

Though compelled to send part of himself down to the surface
of planets like Ning,
Hewhotravels
took no pleasure in it
and considered the whole process of transporting barbarians between worlds to be a terrible waste of time. Unfortunately, such was not only his fundamental purpose but the way he was programmed, which meant that he was fated to perform such chores until his body disintegrated. This bleak prospect was largely responsible for his perpetually bad mood.

So, eager to complete the odious task as quickly as possible, and without regard for the comfort of the vermin who traveled in his belly, the AI turned and sped north over the outskirts of Zand. A sonic boom followed along behind him, rattled windows, and sent flocks of drab fliers into the air, where they circled aimlessly before returning to their roosts.

And for that brief moment, as the shuttle skimmed the land, the past came back to life. Because once, long before any living memory, such events had been so commonplace that not even the birds noticed them. And that, it seemed to the ship, was a great loss indeed.

Rebo felt the transport start to slow and knew what that
meant. Soon, within a matter of minutes, he and his companions would exit the passenger compartment and walk into a fight. Not only that, but judging from what felt like a mantle of lead that had settled onto his shoulders, the gravity on Ning exceeded that maintained aboard the ship. A definite disadvantage.

The runner checked to ensure that none of those seated around him was looking before giving the amulet that hung around his neck a surreptitious squeeze. And not just for himself, as had once been his practice, but for his companions as well—an odd amalgamation of personalities that combined to weigh him down and lift him up at the same
time. Norr was the best example since his feelings for the sensitive ran the gamut from desire to frustration. It was all very confusing, and the runner didn't like things that were confusing, because they were, well, confusing.