The night air was cool on Jeb’s torso, but he could hardly feel the pleasure of it while digging the hole. The assassin’s body was surprisingly light and rather short for an earthling; it was the digging that was tiring. He was also still exhausted from the combat. This body, though engineered, seemed to have a mind of its own.

  Jeb could have handled all this easily enough on his own, but Raul was determined to be quick, his eyes darting around in the dark as though seeing ghosts projected from his mind.

  Once tossed into the compact hole, the body proved a slight nuisance, landing oddly twisted and falling in on itself.

  “That’s kind of weird,” Raul said, scratching his head.

  “Yeah, I’ve not seen something bend or twist like that. Are we sure he... it’s dead?” Jeb asked. Raul looked at him askance.

  “I would not know,” Raul shook his head. “Not many stories of these. Not many to tell them.”

  “Well, what are they?” Jeb started throwing dirt on the oddly angled body.

  Maybe the back was broken? Maybe its bone structure is different? Jeebz seemed to be thinking of different ideas.

  “What they are is unknown. All that we know are old tales of shadows that moved without sound, shadows that removed your lifeblood and the body drained. Shadows that seemed to be immune to blades and arrows, passing through a dark fog.” Raul began helping dump the dirt on the myth.

  “It seems that some of those tales may be a bit exaggerated?” Jeb asked. “Who is their master?”

  Raul was silent for a while, pondering the legends and myths. “I do not know. But I do know of someone who may know."

  Jeb, we are getting distracted, Jeebz interjected into the conversation.

  We have to know what we are dealing with. Assassins attacking in the middle of the night indicates there is an external force we are unaware of, particularly if we are being specifically targeted, Jeb thought back to Jeebz.

  “And, who would that be?” Jeb asked Raul.

  “The monk. The one we are heading to.” He looked at Jeb with a curious eye. “You are aware that assassins do not randomly attack? They are given a target by someone.”

  “I was just thinking that.” Jeb was concerned. If more than one of these assassins came, he didn’t know if he could handle more than one. He shook his head. “But I have no idea who would order an assassin.”

  Maybe Gaedon. He did send us here. He’s wanted to be rid of you for a while now, Jeebz offered.

  Yeah, but does he have the intelligence or resources? Probably, he’s an actual officer. But still, I can’t imagine him on a rim world trying to kill me from a distance. This place has no conveniences that Systems has, Jeb considered back to Jeebz.

  Maybe there is something more going on here that is being missed, Jeebz replied.

  Maybe. Maybe I was supposed to be taken by the screens, or even the crash landing. I don’t know.

  Jeb finished throwing the dirt on the body with Raul and hefted the makeshift shovel onto his shoulder, a wooden pole with some kind of scoop at the end.

  “How long until we get to your village, then?” Jeb asked Raul.

  Raul rubbed his face, wiping the sweat off, with rivulets dropping from his hand. “Another several weeks if we push hard.”

  “Well, I ordered thirty days of water. That should be enough, I’m hoping?” Jeb asked.

  The sun would be rising within the hour. Another week here for water and then food. This planet is painfully slow.

  It is a Prison Planet, Jeebz responded. Jeb nodded in agreement.

  Making their way back to the barn, which was about a mile away, Jeb put the shovel back and found the lady out and about, getting ready for the morning chores.

  “Good morning, mistress. Are we able to grab some breakfast?” Jeb’s stomach rumbled, and he had heard Raul’s grumbling on the way back.

  She looked him up and down and then pointed with her nose. “Inside, at the table.” And then she was back to her morning chores. Jeb nodded his thanks and indicated to Raul for them to get some food.

  After eating—some fruits and cheese mostly—Jeb informed Raul that he was going to the stiller’s to see if he could help at all.

  “And what should I do?” asked Raul.

  “See what you can find out about town. See if anyone has passed through lately. I doubt anything useful can be gotten, but who knows.” Jeb stood and began heading toward the town.

  The building was the same as it had been the previous day. A small amount of smoke rose from the back; the still was still going. Jeb pushed the front door open while knocking. “Hello? Anyone home?” he spoke into the room.

  “In the back!” the stiller yelled from somewhere on the property. Looking around, taking standard precautions, Jeb made his way through the small wooden home and out the back door.

  On the back porch, the stiller had a bunch of parts all laid out. “You know, stranger, I was thinking about what you were saying. I think I could build one without too much difficulty.” He rubbed his hands on some kind of cloth rag. “I could use your help.”

  “That’s actually why I came. I’d like to help.” Jeebz started rattling off tools he would need, and spotting none of them, gave options for a more ‘primitive’ setting. “Looking around, I see a few things that can work, and a few things we can make that will help us.”

  Jeb got busy, essentially commandeering the entire workshop, with the stiller turning into an assistant. Once all the tools were acquired or made, the parts for the still were needed.

  The handwork felt great. He was building something new, or at least something new for Azibo. He was doing something constructive; the only destruction from his hands was the materials being reforged in the fires, sparks falling away. But what came from those sparks and pounded metal was creation. It was euphoric.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Hours went by with Jeebz rattling on in his head, but it seemed like his mind simply flowed: forge, bang, forge, bang! Hiss of cold water, and he saw the metal contract into a circle, with the cuts just so requiring the contracted metal to make his circle.

  In truth, from scratch, it would take a good day or two. But with the size of the still—roughly four times the size of the others—it would be able to produce much more clean water.

  The stiller came back with a plate of food and some water. “You haven’t eaten all day. Thought you might want some food.” He put the plate of food down and set the water next to it.

  Jeb looked at the food and then at the sky; it would be dark soon, less than an hour, maybe minutes.

  Twelve minutes exactly, Jeebz replied to his stray thought.

  “Thank you. I lost track of time.” As tired as he was, he felt good. Great, actually.

  “That Raul guy, your friend, came by. He said to let you know he’d be at the Inn.”

  Jeb looked at the sky again and then down at his work. The pieces were all built; they just needed to be assembled at this point and then sealed. “You got sealant?” he asked the stiller.

  He looked at Jeb funny. “Sealant?” He was trying the word in his mouth.

  No translation for sealant. It hasn’t been invented yet, no epoxies. There may be wax that can be used as sealant or animal fats, Jeebz chimed in.

  “Yeah, sealant. Like wax or animal fats.” He pointed at the still that lay in pieces on the ground. “To make sure it doesn’t leak,” Jeb clarified.

  “Oh. Yeah. I got something.” He went over to a cupboard and began moving jugs around. In one of them was a full jug of beeswax. “Will this work?” He handed it to Jeb.

  This should work. We’ll have to make some adjustments so that when the tank is full, it creates pressure in the right way, so that the seals get tighter, Jeebz reported.

  “Yeah, that should work fine.” Jeb began picking up his tools. “I’ll come back in the morning, around the same time. It’ll be done tomorrow, hopefully by noon.”

  “Don’t you worry about those tools.” The older man stood up and began putting them away himself. “I got them sorted. You eat.” It was almost a command but given out of respect, as though from some kind of paternal sensation.

  Jeb shrugged and sat down at the food, beginning to fill his Sac’s stomach. He found his mind wandering about the still. He’d seen on other planets where water could be pulled straight out of the air, on desert planets. It didn’t produce a lot of water, but when you were on a desert planet, any drop could save your life.

  Wait, that’s not right, Jeb thought.

  What isn’t right? Jeebz asked.

  I had... I had a thought. A desert planet, building these stills, but it pulled water out of the air instead of just purifying water. It was... as though I was there.

  I see no record of a desert planet where you have built any stills pulling water out of the air. However, the type of still you are referring to is called an accumulator. Some call them a ‘collector,’ but that term is more for energy production, collecting free ions from some source, Jeebz seemed to be rattling a bit, which itself was odd.

  Jeebz, do a diagnostic. Date and location. Sequential. See if anything is missing, Jeb ordered.

  From when to when? Jeebz asked.

  Jeb thought a moment, then decided to split the job up. Make it two queries. The first is from the point Gaedon met me in the bar to the present moment. The second, lower priority, is from the beginning to meeting Gaedon.

  This scan would take time. The mind, being a consecutive recording, a recording even when unconscious, was much like a motion picture, except the amount of data in each ‘picture,’ in each ‘moment,’ was tremendous. The thoughts, emotions, sensations, estimations, and calculations of mass and trajectory—everything you need to ‘think’ about in the act of living. The action of picking up a drink from a table required a tremendous amount of data: height, weight, speed, mass, trajectory, position of the cup, position of the hand, distance, concepts about where it’s going, whether it’s full or empty, and how full or empty would play a role in estimating the amount of work it will take to pick it up.

  A lot of information, much of which is simple math for a drink on a table. But for combat, both melee and in a ship, dealing with serious enemies, strain, and further sensations, it all added up. Each ‘moment’ recorded in the mind, each millisecond recorded with all the data, could fill warehouses of databanks.

  The amount of data, in fact, was so vast that it’s not entirely known where the data is stored. A thought had been measured once, and a thought had mass. That was clearly determined. The memories also had mass. This could be measured by testing the amount of electrical charge in a Doll at the time of the memory. They even were able to ‘descramble’ the thoughts so they could be displayed on a screen. Old technology. But where it came from, they had no clue. The Dolls, having their own computers, had their own storage memory banks. These were separate from a person’s unique memories. The old technology was able to ‘descramble’ a person’s memories, which appeared to have been encrypted, and each encryption was unique. These computers even gained access to commanding the mind to think a thought, much like hypnotism.

  The amount of time it would take to scan would be significant, days or weeks. So, he broke it into two sections. Anything that may have been Gaedon’s doing or something before that.

  “You gonna eat that?” The stiller asked, pointing at the food in Jeb’s hand, frozen just before his open mouth.

  “Oh. Right. Sorry, I was thinking about the still.” He shook his head, and the low vibration in the back of his mind began. The hypnotic command was not strong and only used a small piece of Jeebz's resources. While doing these diagnostics, it was easy to lose your train of thought. The mild hypnosis could do that.

  He finished his food, clapped the stiller on the shoulder, and waved his goodbyes. Leaving the house, it was well past dark. His eyes easily adjusted with Jeebz's help.

  The diagnostic for that earlier part of memory will be done by morning. The other one will take roughly six Earth weeks, Jeebz reported.

  Jeez, that’s a long time. Is there any way to reduce the time? Maybe set a parameter to only look for missing time? Or a key phrase for “desert planet” or “accumulators,” etc.? Jeb asked.

  The whirring in the back of his head stopped, and a few minutes later, as he was passing the doors into the barn, it began again. This new parameter will take roughly nine or ten days, Jeebz reported with the new parameters set in place.

  That’s a bit better. Thanks, Jeebz, Jeb validated the A.I.

  Raul sat with his back against the wall, using a pile of hay as a cushion. He had a couple of plates and some water skins near him. “Are you hungry?” Raul asked.

  “I shouldn’t be, but I’m still drained. I could eat several plates of food.” Jeb looked down and noticed that the plates had bread and a bowl of stew, along with a couple of cut pears, which he found he really enjoyed. This eating was quite brilliant if you were eating something good. Not eating, that could be quite painful, as he had found out in the last set of dunes.

  Jeb sat down and began to dig into the food, draining the water quickly. Raul got up and came back with a pail of water and another plate of food.

  “Any luck on getting information on travelers?” Jeb asked between mouthfuls.

  “No.” Raul shrugged. It seemed to Jeb that Raul wasn’t expecting to get any good information.

  “The still should be done tomorrow by noon. You can come and help assemble it. It’s easy enough. It’s big, so any extra hands would be useful.” Raul nodded in agreement.

  The next several days were uneventful for Jeb. For the town, it was all abuzz. The new still, now massive, was pumping out clean water almost as fast as people came to put muddy and dirty water into it. It took quite a bit of wood to get that much water up to a good boil.

  It had been three days, no assassins, and his water allotment had been filled. The stiller had given Jeb an old still as well, a smaller one for travels. He’d also given Jeb his coin back.

  “Stranger, you’ve given this town more than you are taking. And for that, we thank you.” The stiller had a big smile on his face. Jeb hadn’t really known, but the water had been quite dirty for several months. A large battle had taken place up north, and the waters in the nearby river had been made dirty, hard to drink. The stiller had been working hard on cleaning anything he could, but what little he had hadn’t been enough. Not until Jeb helped him build a new one.

  “I guess I am glad I could help.” And he smiled at the older man.

  On the quiet ride out of town, sitting on the bench of the cart with two horses pulling his jugs of water and his baskets of food, he looked down at the small still he’d been gifted. All thoughts of the planet being for the worst kind of criminals seemed to be missing without notice.