“But they won’t if you control the water,” the man ventured.
“That’s the idea,” the runner agreed.
“So, what about us?” the smallest of the group wanted to know.
“You can take all the water you want,” Rebo replied evenly, “so long as you don’t pass any along to members of the troupe. If you do, we’ll cut you off.”
“And you don’t plan to charge us?”
“Nope . . . That would be wrong.”
“It sure as hell would be,” the fi?rst man commented fervently. “We’ll be back with our canteens.”
“Sounds good,” Rebo replied. “We’ll see you later.”
The men left, word spread quickly, and it wasn’t long before a large contingent of circus performers had threaded their way between the newly created encampments to form a semicircle in front of the water faucet. The rest of the passengers saw the action and stopped whatever they were doing in order to watch. Not because they favored one faction over the other, but because the question of who controlled the water was important, and everyone had a stake in the confl?ict.
Most of the troupe were in mufti, but a few wore full makeup, which made them look more menacing somehow. The beast master had chosen himself as spokesman for the group. His voice was little more than a growl, and his eyes seemed to glow with hatred. “Give the woman to us, leave the area, and we’ll let you live.”
Rebo nodded gravely. “Generally speaking, I like a man who comes right to the point—but I’m afraid that you constitute the exception to that rule. I suggest that you return to your corner.”
“Or what?” the beast master demanded belligerently.
“Do you think you can shoot all of us?”
“No,” the runner replied evenly. “That would be unrealistic. I am pretty fast however, so I think I can kill fi?ve or six of you before you can close with us. Then, given Bo’s expertise with that war hammer, two or three more will go down. Oh, and don’t forget the woman you want so much. . . . She’s good for at least a couple more. That puts the price for water at ten people. So, if that’s acceptable to you, make your move. Which one of you clowns would like to die fi?rst?”
But, before any of the performers could reply, Norr pointed upward. “Jak! Look!”
The runner looked up into the maze of girders that crisscrossed the top of the hold, spotted a fi?gure silhouetted against one of the lights, and knew he’d been suckered. Even as the beast master kept him busy one of the troupe’s trapeze artists had worked his way into position and was about to fi?re a long-barreled rifl?e.
But Rebo carried the long single-shot Hogger for exactly that sort of situation—and knew he could make the shot with his spectacles on. Unfortunately the runner’s spectacles were stored in his pack, and the would-be assassin amounted to little more than an out-of-focus blur. That’s what the runner was thinking as he brought the long-barreled pistol up into position and the acrobat fi?red. There was a fl?ash, followed by a loud report and a clang, as the lead ball nipped the top of Rebo’s right shoulder and fl?attened itself against the bulkhead behind him.
Thanks to the fact that the sniper was armed with a muzzle-loader rather than a repeater, there was no followup shot—which provided the runner with the opportunity to return fi?re. The momentary pain, followed by the sudden rush of adrenaline, combined to produce an instinctive response. The big handgun jerked in Rebo’s hand, the 30-30 slug fl?ew true, and the out-of-focus blob seemed to wobble. Then, as the loud boom echoed back and forth between the ship’s steel bulkheads, the trapeze artist fell. There was a sickening thump as his body hit the deck. That was followed by a clatter as the muzzle-loader shattered, and the force of the impact sent pieces of the weapon skittering far and wide.
“So,” Rebo said, as he lowered the still-smoking Hogger.
“He went fi?rst. . . . Who would like to go second?”
The beast master and a couple of others might have taken their chances, but the rest of the crowd had already begun to back away, and that forced the more ardent performers to withdraw as well.
“You can have all the water you want so long as you leave us alone,” Rebo told them coldly. “But the next time you try something like this we will cut you off. And, oh by the way, when you want water send one person to get it. And send the same person each time.”
“We’ll get you for this!” the beast master threatened, as he backed away.
“That will cost you twenty hours without water,” the runner replied mildly. “Would you like to double that?”
There was no reply as the performers faded into the surrounding murk, although Norr could “see” the thought forms they had created and knew the danger was far from over.
“Damn,” Hoggles said, as he peered up into the latticework of beams and girders above their heads. “We need eyes on the top of our heads.”
“Yeah,” Rebo agreed soberly. “We do. Maybe we can build a shelter with a bulletproof roof.”
Norr took a look around. “At least there’s plenty of materials. Let’s get to work.”
None of the three noticed the ancient security camera mounted high on the opposite bulkhead, or the fact that it panned slightly as if in response to some invisible hand before zooming out to a wide shot. In the meantime, Shewhoswims broke orbit, accelerated out toward the edge of the solar system, and began to calculate the next jump. She was only vaguely aware of what the humans were up to, and so long as they did minimal damage to her body, was not especially interested in their activities. The stars were not only more compelling but a good deal more predictable, and that was a virtue in her opinion. The AI hummed while she worked.
The ship’s Security Control Center had once been home to a force of fi?fty—men, women, and androids—charged with everything from crime prevention to crowd control. As such, the interconnected compartments included an offi?ce for the watch commander, a ready room complete with six bunks, a lounge that boasted its own auto chef, a well-stocked armory, and a high-tech surveillance facility where the video provided from more than fi?ve hundred cameras was constantly monitored. But those days were long gone by the time the brothers Mog, Ruk, and Tas moved into the facility and took up residence. More than two standard years had passed since the day when Mog experimentally entered his birth date into the keypad outside the Security Center and watched in openmouthed amazement as the much-abused hatch cycled open. A more philosophical person might have marveled at his good fortune, or wondered how many thousand such attempts had failed prior to his, or pondered why that particular sequence of numbers had been chosen to protect the facility. But Mog wasn’t much of a thinker—nor were his half brothers Ruk and Tas. What they were was criminals, who—
having botched a robbery—were on the run from the law when they happened upon the crowd that had gathered to watch a shuttle lift from the Planet Derius, and impulsively dashed up the ramp. But, not having prepared themselves for the trip, the siblings soon discovered that they had exchanged one life-threatening situation for another.
Still, the ship carried a plentiful supply of the one thing criminals can’t get along without, and that was victims. Because, while many of the merchants, religious pilgrims, and other travelers were armed against the possibility of petty theft, they weren’t prepared to deal with ruthless predators like Mog, Ruk, and Tas.
However, vulnerable though they were, the other passengers outnumbered the brothers, which was why Mog thought it best to locate a defendable hideout prior to initiating what he thought of as “the harvest.” But when the hatch to the Security Control Center magically opened before him, the criminal realized that he had something of greater value than a simple refuge. Here was a compartment to sleep in, an alcove full of neatly racked weapons, and a roomful of magical windows. Strange but wonderful devices that allowed the criminal and his two siblings to monitor their prey before venturing out to attack them.