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The Rim-World Legacy by F.A.Javor Version 1.0 A #BW Release PROLOGUE I'm six-feet-four, weigh two hundred pounds, and swim about as well as a porous rock. All the same, I pressed myself down into the black water the sparse weeds sprang from, listening. Listening. Straining my ears in the heavy darkness until I thought the skin on the back of my neck would pop. Knowing that the rise and fall of the sounds those who were after me were making was not in their nearness or distance, but in me. Warily, swearing inside at the way the strength in my hands was coming and going, I started working away at the base of a tall reed. Bending it. Pulling it down to me slowly, slowly, all the time aware to the point of torture that in the night-vision glasses the men tracking me were sure to be wearing, a movement, unless it be heartbreakingly slow, would show as a sudden flaring of bright yellow against the dull red of the overall background stillness. "Pike," someone shouted, his voice coming at a low point in my hearing, but I could make out my own name well enough. "Pike. Come out. Give yourself up. Don't make us come in after you." Give myself up. There were children's and women's voices mingled with those of the men after me, and the sound of them added that thin frosting of urgency to my predicament that had me fighting to hold at bay the unreasoning temptation to break and run. Break and run and
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