Logos Run
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ONE - The Planet Thara
TWO - The city of Tryst, on the Planet Thara
THREE - The spaceship Shewhoswimsthevoid
FOUR - The spaceship Shewhoswimsthevoid
FIVE - Old Wimmura, on the Planet Derius
SIX - The Planet Derius
SEVEN - The Planet Derius
EIGHT - The Planet Haafa
NINE - The Planet Haafa
TEN - The Planet Haafa
ELEVEN - The Planet Haafa
TWELVE - The Planet Zeen
THIRTEEN - The city of Shimmer, on the Planet Zeen
FOURTEEN - Near the village of Prost, on the Planet Zeen
FIFTEEN - Aboard Socket
“William C. Dietz is one of the grand masters of space opera. Logos Run is full of action, adventure, intrigue, and surprises . . . The well thought-out story line is populated by interesting characters representing a civilization on a downward spiral.” —Midwest Book Review
“Dietz’s stories have in common intrigue, action, romance, and a well-realized setting.” —Booklist
Praise for RUNNER
“Probably [Dietz’s] best-realized character to date . . . An exciting series of chase scenes, escapes and captures, and high adventure against the backdrop of exotic other worlds.” —Chronicle
“Engaging . . . action packed . . . This novel stands out with its intriguing spiritual explorations.” —Publishers Weekly
“Far-future, planet-hopping adventure . . . pulse-pounding action sequences make for a fast and enjoyable read . . . full of inventive concepts and . . . a richly detailed setting. For fans of space opera and action/adventure, this one is not to be missed.” —Kirkus Reviews
“Dietz’s honorable addition to depictions of the far future, from Wells’s Time Machine to Asimov’s Pebble in the Sky to more recently the works of Clarke and Baxter, is distinguished by the brisk pacing and fleshed-out action scenes that have already made him a respected name in military SF.” —Booklist
“An exciting thriller . . . [a] strong science fiction tale.”
—Midwest Book Review
Praise for William C. Dietz and the Legion of the Damned Novels
“A tough, moving novel of future warfare.” —David Drake, author of the Hammer’s Slammers novels
“Exciting and suspenseful . . . real punch.”—Publishers Weekly
“Dietz’s expertise in matters of mayhem is second to none.”
—The Oregonian
“Unrelenting action.” —KLIATT
“Lots of action, good characterization, a menacing enemy reminiscent of Fred Saberhagen’s Berserker series, and a rousing ending.” —Science Fiction Chronicle
FOR THOSE WHO FELL
“A genuine adrenaline rush.” —Publishers Weekly
“This is an excellent story, well written and excitingly told. If you like military SF, this is definitely a book for you.”
—SF Crowsnest.com
“The usual fast-paced adventure we have come to expect in the series and from Dietz.” —Booklist
“William C. Dietz raises the bar of excellence for military science fiction with every book he writes. For Those Who Fell is a superb, action-packed thriller starring a countless number of ordinary people forced into Herculean efforts to prevent the enemy from victory. Pivotal heroes like First Lieutenant Antonio Santana and Christine Vanderveen . . . add to this terrific tale.” —Midwest Book Review
FOR MORE THAN GLORY
“Dietz has created an intricate tapestry of local and star-faring culture with top-notch action sequences.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Plenty of conflict and mayhem . . . rewarding.” —SF Site
“Thoughtful . . . plot conscious.” —Chronicle
“Exciting military SF fare. Series readers and Starship Troopers fans will want this.” —Booklist
EARTHRISE
“An insightful . . . action-packed novel.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Independence Day with a twist. Dietz delivers a rousing finale to his apocalyptic vision of Earth’s invasion.”
—Romantic Times
DEATHDAY
“A classic alien-invasion tale of survival and human triumph—great reading for anyone who loved Independence Day or The War of the Worlds.” —Kevin J. Anderson, coauthor of Hunters of Dune
“A compelling novel of the strength of the human spirit in the face of the apocalypse.” —Rick Shelley, author of Holding the Line
Ace Books by William C. Dietz
GALACTIC BOUNTY
FREEHOLD
PRISON PLANET
IMPERIAL BOUNTY
ALIEN BOUNTY
MCCADE’S BOUNTY
DRIFTER
DRIFTER’S RUN
DRIFTER’S WAR
LEGION OF THE DAMNED
BODYGUARD
THE FINAL BATTLE
WHERE THE SHIPS DIE
STEELHEART
BY BLOOD ALONE
BY FORCE OF ARMS
DEATHDAY
EARTHRISE
FOR MORE THAN GLORY
FOR THOSE WHO FELL
RUNNER
LOGOS RUN
WHEN ALL SEEMS LOST
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
LOGOS RUN
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace hardcover edition / October 2006
Ace mass-market edition / October 2007
Copyright © 2006 by William C. Dietz.
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This book is dedicated to my dearest Marjorie.
Thank you for glorious days past,
life in the ever-present now,
and whatever may lie ahead.
The adventure continues!
ONE
The Planet Thara
From this day forward the stars shall be ours . . .
—Emperor Hios, on the day that the first public star gate went into service, and he stepped onto the surface of the Planet Zeen
The attack came without warning. The angen-drawn coach had been under way for hours by then, having followed the well-established ruts south through villages of neatly thatched roofs, past prayer ribbons that flew with the wind, and miles of flooded paddies. The genetically engineered draft animals strained at their harnesses as the road began to rise, the driver’s long, supple whip cracked over their vaguely equine heads, and they were forced to assume the four-wheeled vehicle’s entire weight. The angens expressed their unhappiness via snorts, grunts, and occasional bursts of flatulence as the low-lying paddies fell away and they pulled the coach up through a long series of switchbacks. But the driver was accustomed to such displays, and his passengers were largely unaware of how the animals felt, since two of the three were asleep within the boxy cab.
The single exception was Lonni Norr, who sat facing the front of the coach with Jak Rebo’s head resting on her lap. The variant’s right leg had gone to sleep ten minutes earlier, but she couldn’t bring herself to wake the runner and thereby break the spell. Because after months of danger and turmoil Norr was temporarily at peace. And had been ever since their departure from the holy city of CaCanth.
But Norr’s ancestors had been bred to sense things that norms could not. So even as the heavy who was curled up on the seat across from her continued to snore, and Rebo jerked as if in response to a dream, the young woman knew that conflict lay ahead. Partly because the threesome possessed something others wanted—and partly because it was somehow meant to be.
The windows were open, which meant Norr caught a brief glimpse of the terrain ahead as the coach lurched up over a pass and began its rattling descent. In contrast to the carefully cultivated paddies the coach had passed earlier in the day, a dense forest awaited them below. The interlocking foliage stretched for as far as the eye could see, and, judging from the occasional glint of reflected sunlight, was watered by a serpentine river.
Rebo mumbled something in his sleep, and Norr smiled tenderly as she ran her fingers through the runner’s thick black hair. His features were even, but a bit too rugged to be described as classically handsome, in spite of the fact that women generally found him to be attractive. The relationship with Rebo had been part of the long journey that had begun on the Planet Anafa, and subsequently taken them to Pooz, Ning, Etu, and Thara. What began as a momentary alliance had gradually evolved into a wary friendship, an on-again, off-again romance, and a decision to remain together. For a month? A year? A lifetime? Not even a person with her gifts could tell.
Such were Norr’s thoughts as the coach found level ground, bounced its way into a set of deep ruts, and was soon embraced by an army of leafy trees. Their trunks were four to five feet in circumference, and their massive branches came together to form a dense canopy overhead. The thick biomass cut the amount of sunlight that could reach the forest floor by half and caused a drop in temperature.
But the chill that Norr felt was not entirely physical. Other senses had come into play, too, senses that norms possess, but rarely take full advantage of. What one of them might have experienced as a vague uneasiness, Norr saw as a roiling blackness, and knew the sensation for what it was: negative energy being broadcast by a group of hostile minds. The sensitive put her hand on Rebo’s arm. “Jak . . . Wake up . . . Something is wrong.”
But the warning came too late. One of the angens uttered a bloodcurdling scream as an arrow sank into its haunch, and a pair of hobnailed boots made a thumping sound as a bandit landed on the roof. That noise was followed by a loud boom as the driver triggered his blunderbuss and sent a dozen .30-caliber lead balls into the undergrowth where the archer was concealed. But that did nothing to protect the coachman from the garrote that dropped over his head, or the noose that began to tighten around his throat. He had little choice but to release both his weapon and the reins in a desperate effort to restore his air supply.
“On the roof!” Norr exclaimed, as her companions awoke. “Bandits!”
Like all his kind, Bo Hoggles had a body that had been designed for life on heavy-gravity worlds. That meant he was strong, so strong that he could smash a massive fist up through the thin roof, and grab the bandit’s ankle. That was sufficient to scare the would-be thief, who was forced to let go of the garrote, while he attempted to pry the heavy’s sausagelike fingers off his ankle. And that’s what he was doing when Rebo drew the semiautomatic Crosser, pointed the weapon up toward the ceiling, and fired two ten-millimeter rounds through the roof. One bullet missed, but the other struck the brigand in the back and severed his spinal cord. The coach rocked sickeningly as Hoggles let go; the body bounced into the air and fell past Norr’s window.
The driver had control of the reins by then, but no amount of swearing could make the wounded angen run faster, and that slowed the rest. All of which was part of the time-tested process that the bandits traditionally relied upon to bring their prey to a standstill. So, while the loss of Brother Becko was regrettable, the brigands had every expectation of success as the coach slowed and finally came to a stop. What they didn’t expect were the people who emerged from the carriage. A heavy, armed with a war hammer, a norm with a gun in each fist, and a sensitive with a metal-tipped wooden staff. But in spite of the fact that the passengers were clearly more formidable than the bejeweled merchants the bandit leader had been hoping for, he had little choice but to hurl himself forward as a volley of arrows arched overhead.
Rather than exert more control over her body, Norr let go instead. That allowed her full array of senses to unfold. The staff made patterns in the air as the variant whirled. There was a series of clacking sounds as half a dozen arrows were intercepted, broken in half, and left to fall like wooden rain.
Hoggles was not so graceful, or so fortunate, since he made an excellent target. Two arrows thumped into his chest, but neither possessed the force required to penetrate the mesh-lined leather armor the variant had purchased in CaCanth. And, having fully recovered from the injuries suffered at the Ree Ree River, the hard-charging giant was among the bandits in a matter of moments. Blood flew as the enormous war hammer struck this way and that, while his basso war cry dominated the field of battle.
Nor was that the worst of it, because even as the berserker met the main body of the onrushing brigands in hammer-to-head combat, Rebo was busy shooting at the rest. It was aimed fire, which meant that nearly every bullet found its mark, and that added to the slaughter.
And so it was that having lost fully half his band in a matter of minutes, and with a bullet lodged in his left thigh, the group’s leader issued a shrill whistle. Strong hands grabbed the chieftain under the armpits, and his feet were lifted clear off the ground as members of the bandit’s extended family hustled him into the safety of the woods. All the brigands were gone within seconds, leaving the battle-dazed travelers in sole possession of the body-strewn battlefield.
“Well, that was an unpleasant surprise,” Rebo said calmly as he slipped the unfired Hogger back int
o the cross-draw holster at his waist. “Let’s get out of here before they regroup.”
“I agree,” a male voice said emphatically. “And I would very much appreciate it if you would be so kind as to wear a more suitable garment during future battles. . . . I could have been damaged—or taken off-line.”
The sound seemed to originate from Norr, but had actually emanated from the coat she wore, which, in spite of its nondescript appearance, was a computer. A wearable computer that was more than a thousand years old and had once been at the center of a star-spanning system of star gates. Months before, the threesome had agreed to reunite the artificial intelligence (AI) with a control center called Socket on behalf of a dead scientist.
But the AI could be imperious, not to mention downright annoying, which was why Norr responded as she did. “If you would be so kind as to let us know when we’re about to be attacked—we’ll put you away well in advance. Come to think of it, maybe we should do that anyway. . . . I could use some peace and quiet.”
Logos didn’t like being packed away and therefore chose to remain silent. Rebo grinned. “Good. . . . I’m glad that’s settled. Come on, let’s give the driver a hand.”