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By William C. Dietz

Max Maxon is an ex-marine who makes his dwelling with a gun. Sasha Casad is a wealthy youngster attempting to seize the subsequent spaceship domestic. Max's activity is to get her there alive. Somebody's attempting to cease them-somebody with lots of funds and firepower. that does not trouble Max. a freelance is a freelance. opposed to all odds, he will satisfy this one. after which he will make a person pay.

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Sasha said, “You have a wonderful family,” and seemed to mean it. “Thank you. We have six boys and five girls, which is ten more than the corpies would allow us to have topside, and about eight more than we planned. But the Murphys are a passionate lot and not always given to practicality. Please, be seated. Would you like something to eat? ” My stomach rumbled, and I realized that it had been a long time since the pizza. Sasha looked interested as well. ” Mr. Murphy settled back in his chair.

Sasha was fifteen or twenty rungs below me, moving with the quick, easy confidence of someone raised with the void all around, our knapsack bouncing on her back. I had offered to carry it, but she had refused. ” Rita called. ” I forced myself up again. We had managed a three-hour nap, but my body ached for a full night’s sleep. The siphon consisted of a vertical pipe that was five or six feet across and painted the lime-green color that bureaucrats always choose. The structure vibrated next to my shoulder as vast quantities of sea water were pumped to the surface, desalinized, and purified.

It had all the latest enhancements, including some carefully placed weights to add heft in normal gravity situations, an over-sized safety to accommodate gloved hands, a thirty-round magazine, a ninety-round gas reservoir, and a flat black nonreflective finish. The box included thirty rounds of ammo, fifteen standard or “killer” rounds, and fifteen injector or “drug” rounds. I tried to remember when and where I’d learned those names, but couldn’t. ” I looked Mr. Murphy in the eye. “We’ll take ’em.

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