Deathstalker Rebellion

  They made their way through the ruins of the starport with no more trouble than anyone else. The streets might be blocked with debris from toppled buildings, but security was a joke. The authorities had their own problems to worry about. Skye found a way down into the largely untouched maintenance tunnels down below, and from there it was a relatively easy trip back to the underground center. Only to find that everyone was far too busy to talk to them. The main meeting chamber was a mass of confusion, swamped with people rushing this way and that, shouting orders and information to people who weren't listening. Finlay finally grabbed the nearest person, slammed him up against the nearest wall, stuck his face in close, and demanded to know what was going on. His victim glared at him incredulously.

  "Where the hell have you been? Golgotha's been attacked by an alien starship! Completely unknown, like nothing anyone's ever seen before. It trashed most of the starport before it was finally driven off."

  Finlay scowled. "What happened to the defense systems?"

  "They're still down from the new rebels' attack on the Tax HQ! When the alien ship arrived, there was nothing left to stop it. The deaths and damage in the city have been horrific. We rode out most of it down here, but up above everything's gone to hell in a handcart, for us and the Empire. Most of our above ground agents are either dead or scattered. Communication chains have been shattered."

  He was starting to babble, and Finlay shook him hard to get his attention back. "What's the underground doing to take advantage of the situation?"

  "God only knows. Everyone's got a different idea or plan for saving the moment, or at least for providing damage limitation, but no one's listening to anyone else. I've heard everything suggested, from launching attacks on Empire installations while they're still vulnerable, to taking all the underground even deeper into the subsystems in order to avoid the inevitable backlash when Golgotha's population discovers the alien's attack was made possible only because the new rebels lowered the planetary defenses. Can I go now, please? I was on my way to the toilet, and if anything, my need is even worse now than it was."

  Finlay let him go and led Skye through the crowd, listening to as many voices as he could. The only thing everyone seemed to agree on was that the whole mess was the fault of the new rebels. People had a lot of ideas about what should be done about them, with drawing and quartering coming a close second to very slow impalement.

  And then the three esper leaders suddenly manifested in the center of the chamber, silencing the chaos with a telepathic bellow so loud that even Finlay heard it. Everyone subsided, holding their heads and wincing. Mr. Perfect, the mandala, and the dragon in its tree glared around them, and only a few people, including Finlay, were able to look back.

  "If you've all quite finished running around like a chicken that's just had its nuts chopped off," said Mr. Perfect icily, "perhaps we could discuss the situation in a calm, intelligent, and above all quiet manner. First off, things are not as bad as they seem. Most of us came through the attack alive, thanks to how far we live beneath the surface. Our cells above can be rebuilt, and communications reestablished.

  "However, we are in no condition to mount attacks against anybody, let alone Empire installations we have no way of even getting to through the current chaos. In addition, Finlay Campbell has returned safely with Julian Skye, against all the odds, rescued before he could be made to talk. So we need no longer worry about having to scatter again. Feel free to applaud, but keep the noise down. We've got a headache."

  There was scattered applause, but the crowd remained restive and uncertain. Some parts seemed actually mutinous. Skye looked a little put out at the muted reaction to his safe return, but Finlay didn't give a damn. He hadn't done it for the applause. He looked around for Evangeline, or even Adrienne, but the crowd was too big. Mr. Perfect began speaking again, a frown marring his classical features, like graffiti on a famous portrait.

  "It is imperative we establish proper contact with the new rebels as soon as possible. We sent Alexander Storm and the Stevie Blues to join the raiding party and return with them, but it's clear we're going to need a cooler, more politically minded envoy to represent our views in the future. We need an ambassador to link both of us together. It is vital that future raids or attacks be decided by both of us, in advance, precisely to prevent this kind of destruction happening again. What little good will the underground had among the general population vanished with the alien ship's first strafing run. The council has discussed this, and we have a volunteer to be our ambassador. Evangeline Shreck."

  Finlay mouthed the word no, but his reaction was lost in the applause from the crowd, which this time seemed louder and more genuine. Evangeline was suddenly standing before the esper leaders, head respectfully bowed. She turned around to acknowledge the applause from the crowd, and her eyes met Finlay's as though she'd expected him to be right where he was. She looked away, but there was no guilt or weakness in her cold, composed face. Finlay started to push his way forward through the crowd. Skye tried to follow him, but lacked the strength to force his way past the people packed together before him. He called the Campbell's name, but if Finlay heard, he paid it no attention, and Skye was quickly left behind.

  Finlay burst through the final few ranks, not caring if he hurt or affronted anyone. No one objected. Finlay's reputation as a swordsman and a crazy bastard was well-known throughout the underground. He stood face-to-face with Evangeline, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. Finlay took her by the arm and pulled her a little away from the esper leaders. She went with him unresistingly, but her face never changed.

  "Why are you doing this, Evie?" he said finally. "Why are you going away and leaving me?"

  "I'm not leaving you," Evangeline said calmly. "I'm just going on a mission. I'll be back before the year's out. My position as ambassador is only temporary, until the council can decide which of them will replace me."

  "Why did they choose you?"

  "Because I asked them. I wanted to go. I need to get away from things for a while. I've done too much, been involved in too much. I owe too many commitments to too many people, and I can't keep them straight in my head anymore. Leaving Golgotha will give me time to think. It's been a long time since I could just be myself, with no responsibilities to anyone but myself."

  "You don't have to go do that. We can leave the underground, be together, just the two of us. I'm here only because you are."

  "That might have been true once, but not anymore. You said yourself, you need the action, the blood and slaughter of the missions they give you."

  "None of that means more to me than you. You're the heart that beats in my breast, the air in my mouth. I can't live without you."

  "Yes you can. For a while. I need this, Finlay. I need… I don't know what I need, but it isn't here. Adrienne helped me to see that."

  Finlay nodded grimly. "I might have known she'd be at the back of this. She's never happy unless she's screwing up my life."

  "No, Finlay. This was my decision. I need to get away from the subsystems, my father…"

  "And me?"

  "That, too. Nothing's really going to change. We hardly ever see each other anyway. I have my duties, and you're always off on one of your missions…"

  "That can change. I can change. What do you want from me?"

  "Your understanding. I still love you, Finlay. I'll always love you, no matter where I am or you are. But I can't go on like this. It's tearing me apart, and I can't stand it anymore. I have to take some control of my life. Don't fight me on this, Finlay. It's important to me."

  He took a deep breath and nodded abruptly. "Then it's important to me, too. Go. I'll manage." He opened his arms to her, and she came into them, and for a long time they stood together, blind to the outside world. Finlay held her close, like a drowning man, and if his strength hurt her, she never said. He could feel tears prickling his eyes, but he wouldn't let them out. "What am I going to do without you, Evie?"

  "You'll find s
omething to keep yourself busy. You swore a blood oath, remember, on your name and honor, to avenge Jenny Psycho and what was done to her, to put an end to Silo Nine and the system that produced it. Now the council has seen what you can do, they'll give you more important work in the underground. If you ask them."

  "Maybe." He pushed her gently away and looked searchingly into her eyes. "You do what you need to do, Evie. That's all that matters in the end. But I still wish they could have chosen someone else."

  "Everyone else was too important, too well connected, or too busy. The only use they had for me was my influence over my father and to keep you in line. My father and I… have become estranged. And I promised the council you wouldn't be a problem. Don't make a liar out of me. They chose me because I have proven diplomatic skills, and because I'm entirely expendable. I was the perfect candidate."

  "We seem fated to be kept apart," said Finlay. "Someday, when all this is over, maybe we'll be able to have a simple, everyday life together, like everyone else. I'd like that."

  "Yes," said Evangeline. "So would I."

  There was a sudden commotion behind them as everyone turned to look at someone who'd just entered the chamber. An excited babble began as the crowd recognized who it was. There was cheering and applause, and a name ran through the crowd, growing louder and louder, from a chant to a roar to a battle cry. Jenny Psycho! Jenny Psycho! Jenny Psycho!"

  "Oh, hell," said Finlay. "Just what we need. More complications."

  Jenny Psycho, who used to be called Diana Vertue, but had mostly forgotten that, was short and blond with a pale face dominated by sharp blue eyes. She had a large mouth and a smile that showed more teeth than humor. Once she'd been just another low-level esper, like so many others, but then the underground had planted her in the notorious esper prison Silo Nine to be their agent. The uber-esper Mater Mundi had manifested through her to blow the place apart. Jenny had been touched by greatness, transformed by the Mater Mundi's fleeting presence, and since her escape from Wormboy Hell, she'd become a new, major force in the underground. She'd taken the code name for her own and entered esper politics with a vengeance. Wherever she went, a small crowd of fanatical followers went with her, and they were with her now, scowling at anyone who dared to get too close. Finlay sometimes wondered whether she was a political force or a religious icon. Perhaps she wasn't sure herself. Certainly her popularity had been growing in leaps and bounds of late. It must have if someone as disinterested as Finlay had noticed it.

  Having made one of her usual unexpected and highly dramatic entrances. Jenny Psycho pressed forward and the crowd opened up before her, as though pushed back by the sheer force of her personality. She'd become one of the most powerful espers the underground had ever known, and you could feel it in her presence. It all but crackled on the air around her, a palpable force that was part charisma and part enigma. A rabble-rouser, a cunning politician, and a tireless warrior for esper rights and wrongs, she was respected, worshiped, and adored by the many, and watched very carefully by the esper leaders.

  She was also just a little crazy, but people made allowances. No one expected saints to be normal. She had been touched by Our Mother Of All Souls, and with the Mater Mundi currently quiet and unavailable, people were willing to settle for the next best thing. She stopped at the front of the crowd before the esper leaders and smiled unpleasantly, as though she could see past the images they projected to the real people beneath. Who knew? Maybe she could. Evangeline leaned in close beside Finlay.

  "If I'd known she was going to turn out such a pain in the ass, I'd have thought twice about springing her from Silo Nine."

  Finlay shrugged. "She preaches direct action, and that's a popular stance to take these days. And she was a focus for the Mater Mundi."

  "So were you and I, and we're no crazier now than we were before. Though admittedly, it's hard to tell in your case."

  Finlay smiled despite himself and made himself concentrate on Jenny Psycho as she began speaking. She had a harsh, unattractive voice. She'd damaged her vocal cords screaming in Wormboy Hell. It didn't matter. When she spoke, you had to listen. You had to.

  "I'm back again, people. Make the most of me while I'm here. The Empire threw me into Silo Nine and put a worm in my head to control me, but with the Mater Mundi's help I broke out. You can break out, too. Work with me, and we can all become more than we are. No one can compel me now; not even the worm they left in my head. The council said taking it out would kill me, but I don't believe that anymore. Watch. And learn."

  She pushed her long golden hair back behind her ears, so that her face could be clearly seen. She put a hand to her forehead and frowned, as though listening or concentrating.

  Her left temple bulged outward suddenly, and the skin broke, splitting apart. Blood ran down Jenny's face, but she ignored it. There was a sharp, cracking sound, and the bone of her skull broke apart at the left temple. Something small and gray and bloody crawled out of the crack, and fell into Jenny's waiting hand. It pulsed and twitched feebly, a genetically engineered horror that existed only to imprison and torture captive minds. Jenny closed her hand around the worm and crushed it with one swift gesture. Blood and gray pulp oozed through her fingers. Jenny opened her hand and let what was left fall to the ground.

  The crowd went mad, cheering and applauding and stamping their feet. Jenny Psycho began to speak again, but Finlay wasn't listening. He appreciated the theater of what she'd done, but distrusted her message. The call to direct action was all very well and fine—he'd raised it himself on more than one occasion—but there was nothing of strategy or planning in Jenny's call. All the underground had to do was trust in her and the Mater Mundi, and all would be well. And the crowd believed that because they wanted to. She promised strength and revenge and glory, and everything else the beaten down craved so desperately. Finlay looked out over the cheering crowd and wasn't impressed.

  Drowning men will clutch at any straw.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Raised Voices and Diversions

  Lionstone XIV, that most revered and feared Empress of a thousand worlds and more, was holding Court once again, and everyone that mattered, or thought they might, made haste to attend her. The Court itself was an arctic waste, this time, as real as holographic projections, strategically placed props, and temperature controls could make it. The Empress redressed her Court constantly, to reflect her whims and changing moods, or just to give her courtiers a bad time. Veteran Court attendees claimed to be able to divine much of Lionstone's mood from studying each new Court, but even when the news was bad, people went anyway. You had to, if you wanted your voice to be heard. Besides, if you stayed away too often, Lionstone might take that as an insult. And the people she sent to drag you there to hear her displeasure would not be polite about it.

  The Court itself was a single vast chamber somewhere within the Imperial Palace, set within a massive steel bunker deep below the surface of Golgotha. No one knew precisely how big the chamber was, for security reasons, but so far it had always proven big enough to hold whatever worlds or conditions Lionstone chose to re-create. Unfortunately, it also reflected her sense of humor, which could be pretty basic on occasion. Courtiers knew better than to sit down on anything, no matter how apparently comfortable, and approached the luxurious food and wine provided as a form of Russian roulette.

  It was a long way down to the Court. People made jokes about descending into hell, but not very loudly.

  Captain Silence, Investigator Frost, and Security Officer Stelmach stood together in the midst of a great crowd of courtiers, staring out over a bleak arctic waste that stretched off into the distance for as far as the eye could see. The snow was a good foot deep on the ground and more fell in heavy wet flakes from the brooding gray sky above. A thin mist pearled the air, thickening briefly here and there into impenetrable walls. It was bitter cold, searing exposed flesh and the lungs of those who breathed too deeply, and Silence turned up the heating elements in his unif
orm another notch. Frost didn't bother. It took more than mere cold to discommode an Investigator. She'd been trained to withstand far worse. Stelmach already had his heating elements running on full, but shivered anyway. He wasn't looking forward to meeting the Empress.

  Whatever else might prove to be an illusion, the cold was real enough; sharp enough to kill an unprotected man eventually. And there were bound to be other more subtle dangers concealed at random throughout the Court. The Empress never found a joke really funny unless someone could get hurt. The falling snow was especially real. It collected wetly on heads and clothes and seemed to be getting heavier. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to re-create this environment, which suggested the appropriate life-forms were out there somewhere, too. Especially, the predators. Lionstone had a special fondness for the practical joke.

  The gathered courtiers murmured among themselves for a while, and then some brave soul stepped forward, and everyone else trudged through the snow after him. Few had come prepared for arctic conditions, and the bright flashing silks of current fashion did little to protect their wearers. A few grumbled and blasphemed under their breath, but most just toughed it out. You never knew who might be listening. Silence stepped out along with the crowd, still somewhat surprised that he wasn't weighed down with chains like his last visit to Court. After screwing up so completely on the Wolfling World, he'd fully expected to find himself facing an execution warrant the moment he stepped off his ship, but apparently his victory over the attacking alien ship had bought him some extra time, if nothing else.

  Frost strode along at his side as though the snow wasn't there, seemingly unconcerned by anything. There wasn't much that bothered Investigators, if only because they tended to kill things that did. V. Stelmach trudged along in her shadow, using her tall form as a windbreak. His arms were wrapped tightly across his chest, and he was pouting sulkily. Stelmach was not happy. But, then, he rarely was.