Free Logos Run by William C. Dietz Page B

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 fifty—men, women, and androids—charged with everything from crime prevention to crowd control. As such, the interconnected compartments included an office 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 five 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.