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and Hoggles were careful to hang back, secure in the knowledge that the last people to board the shuttle would be among the first to exit, thereby positioning themselves for the subsequent race into the main hold. And it was then, while they were waiting to enter the ship, that Hoggles tapped Rebo on the shoulder. “Jak . . . See the man with the beard? He looks familiar somehow.”
    Rebo eyed the man in question and frowned. “Yeah, he does look familiar. . . . But I can’t place him. Lonni, how ’bout you?”
    The sensitive looked, then looked again. “Uh-oh,” she said ominously. “I think we’re in trouble.”
    “In trouble?” the runner inquired mildly. “Why?”
    “That isn’t a man, or maybe it is, but the last time I saw him he was dressed as a woman and was throwing hatchets at the local prefect!”
    Rebo took another look, realized that Norr was correct, and scanned the faces around the person in question. It was hard to tell, since the circus performers had been wearing heavy makeup the last time he’d seen them, but the runner thought he recognized an acrobat, a clown, and the strongman that Logos had zapped.
    It was then, as the ramp began to deploy, that the travelers came to understand the full extent of their misfortune. Not only were they about to risk their lives on an extremely uncertain journey—they were going to be locked inside a durasteel hull with the full cast of the Circus Solara!
    And, as if to underscore that fact, a man with a horribly scarred face lurched out of the crowd. He had tiny little eyes and green teeth that went on full display as he smiled at Norr. “Remember me?” the beast master demanded. “No? Well I remember you. It’s a long way to Derius, sweetheart— and your friends will have to sleep sometime. But don’t worry, my friends and I know how to treat a lady, especially one who looks like you do!”
    That elicited a series of guffaws from the beast master’s cronies, some of whom bore obvious injuries acquired during the melee in the arena and were eager for revenge. And they might have moved in on the threesome right then had it not been for Hoggles. The heavy unlimbered his rag-wrapped war hammer and took a giant step forward. That sent the troupe scuttling, if only for the moment, and Norr uttered a sigh. “Maybe we should wait for the next ship. . . . Or forget the whole thing.”
    “I would agree with you,” the runner responded, “except for the Lysander problem. He won’t leave you alone until Logos reaches Socket—and I promised him I would make the delivery.”
    “And don’t forget the gates,” Hoggles added. “Once people can step from planet to planet, knowledge will spread, lives will be saved, and conditions will improve for billions of people.”
    “Or so Lysander claims,” Rebo replied cynically, “but that’s the hope. So I reckon we should board.”
    “I’m in,” Norr announced, fingers wrapped around her staff.
    “Me too,” Hoggles agreed.
    “Oh, no you don’t!” Logos interjected. “If those ruffians hurt you, they could hurt me , and that’s unacceptable. We must return to Tryst, where we will await the next ship!”
    “I’ll take that,” Rebo said, as he lifted Norr’s pack off her shoulders. “Now, if you remove that raggedy-looking coat, I think you’ll be a lot more comfortable.”
    Logos, his voice ever more strident, was still talking when the sensitive rolled the AI into a ball and shoved him down into the depths of her pack. The ramp hit the ground at that point, and rather than the outpouring of passengers that Rebo expected, no one appeared. That was a surprise, but there wasn’t much time to think about what if anything the phenomenon might mean, as the first-time passengers nearly trampled one another in their eagerness to board. The voyage was about to begin.

THREE
    The spaceship Shewhoswimsthevoid
    To those who preach the benefits of technology—I say look at the ruins of Wimmura! The ancients