Free Runner by William C. Dietz Page B

such things for two reasons. First, because it’s what my son would do, and the best way to play a part is actually to live it. And second, if someone manages to kill me, you’ll be on your own. Or perhaps that thought hadn’t occurred to your supreme highness.”
    In all truth the thought hadn’t occurred to Lee, and now that it had, the boy wondered if Brothers Babukas and Qwa should have sent a force of Dib Wa warriors to protect him as well. Still, true or not, that didn’t give Rebo the right to be sarcastic. The youngster was about to say as much when the hatch opened, and everyone shuffled into a sterile-looking compartment. There were cries of alarm as jets of greenish mist were pumped into the chamber. It penetrated their clothing, found its way into even the most tightly wrapped packages, and made everything damp. However, thanks to the calm, nonchalant manner in which the more experienced travelers reacted, the rest were reassured and began to relax.
    Then, once the decontamination process was complete, a final hatch opened to admit a wave of fetid air. The runner said, “Come on!” and pulled on the heavily loaded coffin. Lee had no choice but to do likewise. Two small wheels, both set into the foot of the box, allowed it to be towed solong as the surface beneath the coffin remained relatively flat. Two or three individuals dashed out of the shuttle ahead of them, but Rebo and his youthful charge were still able to establish a lead on the majority of the passengers, all of whom were burdened with supplies. Some of the ship’s lights were functional, but not half as many as Rebo would have preferred, leaving the passengers with no choice but to make their way down a gloomy corridor, through widely spaced pools of blue-green light, and into a huge hold where thousands of cargo modules had once been stored. If one looked carefully it was still possible to see yellow grid lines under the filth that covered the deck, along with reference numbers on the bulkheads that were practically invisible beneath layers of head-high graffiti.
    The runner paused to get his bearings, spied what he was looking for, and pointed to the far side of the hold. “Over there, son. Where that big beam hits the deck. That’s where we want to go.”
    Though determined to help, Lee found it difficult to keep up, and quickly discovered that if he wanted to pull, rather than be pulled, it was necessary to jog rather than walk. Added to their difficulties was the fact that the cleverly concealed wheels were too small to pass over obstacles more than a couple of inches high. That meant the pair had to weave their way between cook fires that had only recently been extinguished, piles of trash that the ship’s overworked maintenance bots had yet to remove, and the makeshift shelters left by the last group of passengers. All of which added a considerable amount of distance to the trip.
    Even worse was the necessity to stop and lift the heavy container over a series of man-made barriers that looked as though they had been erected as a way to define someone’s territory. Rebo swore mightily as he jerked the wooden boxover the last waist-high wall and dragged the object toward the darkly shadowed corner ahead. The runner glanced back over his shoulder, saw that one of the merchants had dispatched a uniformed employee to secure the same spot, and realized that the other man was coming on strong. Rebo turned to Lee. “Run, boy! Put yourself in that corner and pull your knife! I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
    Lee looked back, spotted the threat, and took off. He was a good runner, a very good runner, and flew across the intervening space. It wasn’t until he had arrived and turned to face his pursuer, that the boy remembered to pull the belt knife. He felt scared as the full-grown man skidded to a halt not six feet away and laughed. He raised a cudgel over his head. “Skedaddle,