Runner (42 page)

Because the bottom of the swiftly flowing tributary was treacherous, Kane took the situation at face value, until the second variant approached him from behind. She wrapped a steely arm around his throat and began to tighten her grip. Not only was it too late to go for one of the guns by that time, but both of the operative's hands were busy trying to break Pala's hold, even as his lungs fought for air. But the heavy was stronger than he was, a
lot
stronger, and the operative had already begun to lose consciousness when the river came to his rescue. Because even as the life-and-death struggle continued the combatants were swept downstream, and into a clutch of lichen-covered boulders. Bruno hit hard, cracked two of his ribs, and felt the sling-saddle come loose.

Pala saw the collision coming and was forced to release Kane in order to protect herself. She hit with her feet, realized that Bruno was in trouble, and made a grab for the other heavy's harness. Then, propelled by the current, both of the slaves were carried out into the main channel and downriver. Though sorry to let Kane escape, Bruno meant more to her, and Pala had plans for the future. A vast wilderness lay to the east, which, if the rumors could be
believed, served as a sanctuary for escaped slaves. Perhaps the two of them could make a home there.

The heavy kicked with her feet, pulled her companion into an eddy, and towed him ashore. Then, lying on a sandy beach, she started to laugh. Bruno had never heard the female laugh before and liked the sound of it. The river chuckled, the variant laughed in spite of the pain that it caused him, and both of them were free.

Hewhosingstosuns
dropped hyper, “saw” the Etu system
wipe itself onto his electronic vision, and gave thanks. Not for himself, since his fate was certain, but for those who rode in his belly. A random collection of biologicals who knew the great ships were dying but gambled their lives and were about to win.

But what about the others? Those waiting on the surface of Etu? Should he take them aboard? Knowing full well that the next jump would probably be his last? Or enter hyperspace alone and find his fate out among the stars?

One aspect of the AI's programming urged him to go on, to serve the creators as long as he possibly could, while a countervailing imperative insisted that he
protect
human lives rather than put them at risk.

However, the very beings he was fretting over had given
Hewhosings
something akin to free will, which meant that while he was subject to the equivalent of desires and preferences, it was his responsibility to make the final decision. But what if his cognitive abilities were starting to fail? What if his electronic brain, like the rest of his body, could no longer be relied upon?

And so it was that even as the spaceship dropped into orbit around Etu, and sent part of itself down to the planet's
surface, the intelligence that controlled it struggled to make the most difficult decision it had ever faced. Whether to serve—or take itself off-line.

The oars creaked as four heavies pulled on them, the
bright red fishing boat surged forward, and spray flew as the bow broke a white-topped wave. The temperature dropped as the twenty-five-foot-long craft entered the shadow cast by the platform above. Rebo, Norr, Lee, and Hoggles were seated in the boat's stern, just forward of its owner, and aft of the heavily muscled slaves.

Rebo fought to keep his breakfast down as he scanned the steel above. None of the locals he had spoken with were sure why the spaceport had been constructed offshore, although some were of the opinion that the sea had risen over the last few hundred years, indicating that the construct might have been closer to land when it was built.

The structure remained mute as the fisherman steered his boat in toward the rusty seaweed-draped platform that hung a few feet above the surging water. There was an insistent booming sound as waves broke against one of the platform's hollow legs, and the fisherman shouted to make himself heard. “You're lucky! The tide is high! The last time the ship came in we had to throw grappling hooks up onto the landing stage so passengers could pull themselves up. Five of them wound up in the drink, and one drowned.”

The runner nodded, felt his stomach heave along with the boat, and fingered the amulet that hung around his neck as the heavies pulled on their oars. Another brightly painted craft, this one loaded with incoming passengers fell away on a wave and surged toward the shore. “Pull!” the fisherman commanded sternly. “Put your backs into it! Or would you like a taste of the lash?”

The variants pulled, the boat slid into position, and Hoggles stood. With feet firmly planted, and seemingly indifferent to the movement of the boat, the heavy lifted Lee up over his head. The boy literally flew through the air, hit the metal grating with a
clang,
and scrambled to collect the packs that began to land all about him.

Norr was next, followed by Rebo, who almost fell but managed to make the transfer unassisted, and Hoggles, who made the whole thing look easy. The fisherman raised a hand as the boat drifted away, waited for an opportunity to turn, and told the oarsmen to “Pull!” as he put the tiller over. It had been a profitable morning—and the norm was happy.

Grateful to have solid metal under his feet, the runner looked up to where flight after flight of rusty stairs switchbacked up into the gloom. Rebo assumed there had been some sort of elevator once, but there was no evidence of any now. “Okay,” he said, hoisting a pack onto his back and clutching two more. “Let's get going. The last one to the top gets to cook dinner.”

“It won't be me!” Lee shouted joyously, and scampered upward.

“No,” the runner said philosophically, as he began the long, torturous climb. “It won't be you.”

Gravel flew away from the big angen's hooves as Kane
jerked on the reins and brought the animal to a skidding halt. A single sweeping gaze was sufficient to take in the cliff dwellings, the cluttered beach, and the enormous platform that loomed offshore.

The operative swung his right leg up over the bloodstained saddle and jumped to the ground. The angen shook its head and snorted loudly as Kane led the animal over to
the nearest food stand. “The ship,” the technologist demanded. “When will it land?”

“It already has,” the woman replied mildly. “But there's no reason to fret . . . Take a seat. I'll make you some tea, and you can watch it take off.”

“You expect it to lift that soon?”

“Yes,” the vendor answered cheerfully. “The last of the incoming passengers came ashore a couple of hours ago, and the outgoing passengers should be up on top of the platform by now.”

Kane swore. He had no way of knowing if Norr and her companions were among those on the platform, and there was no way to find out. That meant he would have to gamble—even if it meant traveling to Thara for nothing. But the black hats believed the boy was headed for Thara, which meant the man with the guns was headed for Thara, which meant that the sensitive was headed there, too. “I need to get out there before the ship lifts,” Kane said desperately. “Do you know anyone who could help?”

“My husband could take you,” the woman said warily. “But it would be expensive.”

Having been spared by the river, the operative had crawled up onto a rocky beach, only to discover that both of the slaves had escaped. It had been a bad moment, a very bad moment, but one Kane had overcome. A short hike put him back on the road. After that it was a simple matter to set an ambush, wait for a well-mounted rider to pass, and shoot him in the back. Then, having murdered the man's wife as well, the technologist took possession of both angens. The first had already dropped from exhaustion, but the second had proven to be more resilient and stood not five feet away. “Here,” the operative said, thrusting the reins into the woman's hands. “The animal is worth at least ten
times what your husband would charge. Run! Get him! And a pack filled with provisions as well.”

It was a generous offer, so generous that the woman ran full out, with the newly acquired angen trotting along behind her. Kane stepped around to the other side of the counter, where he stuffed half of a meat pie into his mouth and shrugged the pack off his shoulders. Maybe the woman would bring him something decent to eat and maybe she wouldn't. All the operative could do was take everything that wasn't nailed down and hope for the best.

Hewhosingstosuns
was in a quandary. The shuttle was
loaded and ready to lift. And part of him
wanted
to lift, to function, to remain relevant. But another part of him had doubts, serious doubts about his ability to reach Thara, which was why the transport remained where it was.

The passengers meanwhile had nothing to do but strap their belongings to the deck, converse in low voices, and wait for the shuttle to take off. Those who had ridden the great ships before were the least concerned. They knew how arbitrary and uncommunicative the starfaring AIs could be and were relatively relaxed.

Not so the first-timers, however, some of whom felt claustrophobic, and had a tendency to fidget. One couple became
so
disturbed, in fact, that they left the ship. And, as luck would have it, Kane arrived just in time to see the couple exit the shuttle. Two of the fisherman's sons, both burdened with packs, were right behind him. The long, arduous climb had left all three of them out of breath, and their legs felt as if they were made out of lead.

But, just as the operative experienced a sense of jubilation and allowed his pace to slow,
Hewhosings
made the decision he'd been struggling with. Despite doubts regarding
his cognitive process, and the multitudinous ailments that plagued his electromechanical body, the AI would make one final trip to Thara.

There was a high-pitched
whine
as both of the shuttle's engines started to spin up, followed by a loud
hiss
as jets of vapor stabbed the surface of the landing pad, and a worrisome
thumping
sound as the main hatch began to close. “Come on!” Kane yelled, as he waved the teenagers forward. “Throw the packs through the door!”

Neither one of the youngsters had ever been that close to a flying machine before and showed every sign of remaining right where they were, until the operative pulled one of his pistols and fired it into the air. “I said move!”

The teenagers ran forward, heaved the packs into the air lock, and were barely clear when Kane rolled in under the steadily descending hatch. The door should have detected the movement and paused, but that particular motion detector had burned out some forty-six standard years earlier and never been replaced. The hatch closed with a
thud
, the hull began to vibrate, and the shuttle's skids left the guano-stained platform a few moments later.

Rebo felt a sense of relief as the ship flew out over the bay, released his grip on the good luck amulet and took Norr's hand. “We made it. We're in the clear.”

The sensitive wasn't so sure. Something had changed over the last few minutes, and not for the better. But Norr didn't know what it was, so she smiled and told the runner what he wanted to hear. “Yes, we're in the clear.” But the variant didn't believe it—even though she didn't know why.

The trip into space went smoothly, as did the transfer to
the larger vessel, and the runner, sensitive, red hat, and heavy wasted little time in claiming a corner of the ship's
murky hold for themselves. And, thanks to the experience gained during previous trips, they had set up camp and were already lounging about a tiny fire while many of the other passengers were still getting oriented.

One of them, a man who wore a black bandanna over his hair, had been overjoyed to discover that Norr and her companions
were
on the ship, and, judging from their relaxed demeanor, completely unaware of his presence. So, conscious of the fact that his primary quarry had some very unusual capabilities, the operative went out of his way to ingratiate himself with a group of five merchants. The relationship enabled him to blend his aura with those around him. Then, having hidden himself in plain sight, Kane began the long, careful process of stalking his prey.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the life-and-death drama being played out deep within his body
Hewhosings
executed a stomach-flipping leap into hyperspace, felt the electromechanical equivalent of severe pain, and knew that something had gone horribly wrong. The ensuing investigation took less than a minute, was repeated by way of a check, and quickly confirmed. The good news was that the jump into hyperspace had been successful. The bad news was that the last of four redundant phase arrays had finally gone down. Now, without the ability to make repairs, both the ship
and
its passengers were trapped in hyperspace.

Hewhosings
processed something akin to a sense of overwhelming shame. It had been wrong to grant himself one more trip, and now, thanks to his selfishness, his passengers were going to die. And that raised an important question . . . Should he tell them? Or remain silent? And let the never-ending journey speak for itself? The answer was obvious, to the AI at least, since
Hewhosings
knew that if he were a biological, he would want to know.

Most of the great ships were extremely taciturn, so no one was more surprised than Rebo when dozens of rarely used speakers came to sudden life. “Greetings. My name is
Hewhosingstosuns
. I have roamed the stars for hundreds of years. During that time it was my privilege to serve millions of beings such as yourselves. But now, having suffered a mechanical malfunction that will make it impossible to exit hyperspace, my years of service have come to an end. While functional, the shuttle lacks a hyperdrive, and is therefore useless. I apologize for the lapse in judgment that led to this shameful situation—and assure you that I will do everything in my power to make your final days as pleasant as possible.”