Free Logos Run by William C. Dietz

heavy, guard them. One of us will come back to lend a hand.”
    The hatch had already begun to open when the sensitive freed herself from her pack and, staff in hand, prepared to follow Rebo out into the corridor beyond. The twosome wasn’t the first to exit the decontamination chamber, that honor fell to a young man who rolled under the steadily rising door, but the couple were able to secure a position toward the front of the pack.
    That advantage, significant though it was, couldn’t make up for the fact that the Circus Solara performers had superior numbers. The beast master, the strongman, and a particularly well-built rigger led a phalanx of twelve people who pushed the rest of the passengers out of the way. The beast master took particular pleasure in elbowing Norr as he passed by her, thereby throwing the sensitive into a durasteel bulkhead and effectively putting her out of the race.
    But Rebo wasn’t so easily deflected, and, while unable to block the circus performers, did manage to keep up with them. Elbows flew, poorly directed blows were deflected, and the air was thick with grunts and heartfelt swear words as the mob surged down the filthy passageway to the point where a hatch had been welded shut more than a thousand years before. At that point the group had no choice but to turn left. The bullet-pocked bulkheads to either side of them were covered with grime, peeling paint, and countless layers of head-high multicolored graffiti. Below that, barely visible beneath the grime, phrases like WATCH YOUR STEP! hinted at a more civilized past.
    Then they were through a large opening and in the ship’s main hold, a space that the earliest passengers would never have been allowed to visit, much less live in. But that was back before Shewhoswims had been forced to seal off most of her vast body lest the now-barbarous humans do even more damage to her precious operating systems. What light there was originated from high above, and rather than the still- smoldering campfires the previous set of passengers typically left, there was nothing to see but piles of rubbish. And the gloom that circled beyond.
    True to common practice, and the runner’s predictions, the beast master and the rest of his flying squad immediately struck out for a distant corner. Once in their possession, and with more than thirty people to call upon, the triangular section of deck would be relatively easy to defend compared to a spot out in the middle of the hold.
    Once Rebo confirmed that the troupe didn’t have plans to seize control of the water supply themselves, he let out a sigh of relief and took the opportunity to drag some likely looking debris over to the point where the faucet protruded from the steel bulkhead. A large puddle had formed there— and it shivered in sympathy with the vibration produced by the ship’s power plant. Then, as more people flooded into the cavernous hold, the runner was forced to forgo scavenging in order to take up a defensible position next to the faucet. Norr arrived shortly thereafter—followed by a heavily burdened Hoggles. “Damn,” the variant said, as he dropped the packs next to the puddle. “Those things are heavy.”
    “Uh-oh,” Norr said, as she rewrapped her fingers around the long wooden staff. “Here comes our first set of visitors.”
    Rebo already had the four men under surveillance and nodded politely as they approached. They had the look of merchant adventurers, a common breed aboard the great ships, and were well armed. “What’s the deal?” the largest member of the group demanded as he eyed the pistols that dangled at the runner’s sides. “What are the weapons for?”
    “There are more than thirty members of the Circus Solara on this ship,” Rebo explained patiently. “They threatened to attack us.”
    “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