"For a long time I didn't remember anything," said Half A Man. His voice was very quiet, and he didn't look at her. "Perhaps because I didn't want to. Then I started to remember things in my dreams. Of late the dreams have come more often, and I remember more of them. I don't know if that means anything. I hope not. All I do know for sure is that they're still out there, somewhere. Waiting.
"Forget the official, tidied-up story. This is what really happened. Their ship appeared out of nowhere. Huge and vast, dwarfing us like an ant next to a mountain. Its shape made no sense. We tried to talk to it, and it opened up with weapons of a kind we'd never encountered before. Blew our shields away like they were nothing and blew the ship apart. Only took a few seconds. The lucky ones died in the explosions. The rest of my crew died trying to breathe vacuum. And I woke up in the belly of the alien ship, strapped to an operating table. There was no sign of any aliens. Machines reached down, with long slender blades and other tools, for cutting and lifting and breaking. They opened me up to see how I worked, digging through my guts as the blood spurted. I screamed, but no one listened. I wanted to die, but the machines wouldn't let me.
"I don't know how long it went on. Seemed like forever. I went crazy more than once, but the machines brought me back. Until finally I was allowed to pass out, and when I woke up only half of me was left. My left side was intact, not even a scar, but my right side was an energy construct in human form. It obeyed my every thought, but I couldn't feel it. It wasn't mine. Not really. The restraining straps disappeared, and I got up off the table. With no trace anywhere of all the blood I'd spilled, I left the room and walked out into the ship itself.
"It was huge, none of it on a human scale. There were shapes and structures, but none of them made any sense. There was technology, machines everywhere, but I couldn't understand what they did, or what they'd been designed for. Somewhere something was screaming, shrill and awful, and it never stopped. It might have been pain, or triumph, or horror. And though it never once paused for breath, I had no doubt its source was organic. Something alive. Forever screaming. Just hearing it would have been enough to drive a normal man insane, but I'd been through so much already I wouldn't let myself be broken this time. I had to be strong. I had to survive. The Empire had to be warned.
"I found the aliens, or they found me. Even now, all I remember of them is hints, details, impressions. As though to comprehend them completely, whole, would be more than any human mind could stand. Even now. They were vast and inhuman, draped over impossible machinery with which they were intimately connected. I'm still not sure whether the ship itself might have been alive in some way.
"It took a while before the aliens became aware of me. We communicated, though I couldn't tell you how. They're advanced far beyond us. Their minds work in more than three dimensions. I think they see the future as clearly as the past, as though there was no difference between them. In the depths of their ship, lesser creatures died constantly, their life energies powering the huge ship. They died and were brought back to life and were killed, over and over again, their torment never-ending. But it wasn't their scream I heard. The aliens showed me other things, most of which I didn't understand. All of it was vile and terrifying, evil beyond anything humanity has ever done or could do."
He stopped speaking, his single eye squeezed shut. For a long time there was only silence in the small room. Shoal stirred uneasily.
"Did they tell you why they did… what they did to you?"
"No. Or if they did, I didn't understand it. There was a lot I didn't understand. Eventually, they'd told me all they wanted to, or they grew tired of me. I woke up curled into a ball in one of my ship's escape pods, in orbit over one of the Rim worlds. A ship picked me up, and I came home to an Empire three years older than I remembered, and endured an endless series of attempted debriefings. You know the rest of the story. The Emperor's espers picked up the gist of the story, confirmed that I wasn't lying or crazy, and I became the Empire's spokesman on alien affairs. Who knew better than I what they were capable of? I set policy for alien contacts and controls throughout the known worlds. I've kept the Empire strong. We have to be strong and ready, because someday the aliens who took and altered me will be back. We weren't ready to fight them then, and we might not be now, but we have to be prepared. They were vast and powerful and utterly evil, and they must never be allowed to do to humanity what they did to me.
"In the meantime I do what I can. Of course, there's always the danger that I'm doing what the aliens intended me to. I have no way of knowing what instructions they left in my mind, or how much influence my energy half has over the rest of my mind. How much of what I do is my own agenda, and how much is theirs. Stay close to me. Investigator. Watch me. And if need be, kill me. I don't want to be a Judas goat for the whole human race.
"But still, sometimes, I wonder what happened to my other human half. If it's still alive, somewhere. If the aliens will give it back to me when they return. One last temptation, a weapon with which to control me. After all, I'm only human. So I put my life in your hands, Investigator, as I have in others before you. Do what is necessary, Shoal. Whatever the cost."
"Damn right," said Shoal. "I swear it, upon my word and honor. That is how you trained me, after all. As a matter of interest, what happened to the others before me?"
"I outlived them," said Half A Man. "I've lived a very long time, after all."
"Of course. Is there… anything else I can do for you? Any other reason you summoned me here?"
"Yes, but not what you're thinking. Those urges were taken from me, along with everything else. I need you to carry out a sensitive operation later today. While everyone's distracted with the preparations for the ceremony, kill Mother Superior Beatrice of the Sisters of Mercy. Make it look like a rebel assassination. She's upset too many people with influence, and they want her dead. And since I need their support to carry out my ongoing mission, she must die. Make it quick but messy, and be very discreet. We don't want the Sisters of Mercy getting mad at us."
"Understood," said Shoal. She got to her feet and bowed briefly to Half A Man. "I'll put the matter in hand. Get what rest you can, sir. We have a lot of work ahead of us if we're to put down the rebellion here."
"We have to," said Half A Man. "The aliens are still out there. The Empire must have this new stardrive if it's to stand against them. It can't afford to be distracted by petty squabbles like this."
In the boiling summer heat, Cardinal James Kassar stalked up and down before his assembled Church troops, working himself into a state. The troops stood stiffly to attention in their ranks, ignoring the heat and the sweat that evaporated on their skin almost as quickly as it formed. A few had passed out and had been left to lie where they fell. They'd be flogged later. Kassar had been talking and yelling at them for a good half hour and showed no signs of slowing down. The gist of his speech, interrupted by frequent prayers and exaltations, was the pride and purity of the Church of Christ the Warrior and the utter depravity of the Church's many enemies. Kassar had all but worked himself into a froth of rage and frustration, but the troops weren't that impressed. They'd seen it all before. Kassar could turn it on and off like a tap.
They were all paying careful attention, though. Partly because it took their minds off the heat, but mostly because the Jesuit commandos were prowling between the ranks, hoping to find someone not paying attention, so they could drag him out and make an awful example of him. No chance of that this morning. For once the Cardinal had something to say that was actually interesting, not to mention vitally important. On his own initiative, Kassar was sending them down into the tunnels under Technos III, to wipe out the rebels and regain their pride after being beaten so resoundingly in the past. Of course, this time would be different. No small group in battle armor, but the entire Church force with no armor, hand weapons only, and a new battle drug the Church had been dying to try out on somebody. The troops would have liked to look at each other to see how ever
yone else was taking this, but the Jesuit commandos were still prowling, so everyone stared straight ahead.
"Battle armor was a mistake," Kassar admitted, standing still for a moment so he could stare commandingly at his troops. "There's not enough room to maneuver down in the tunnels, and the built-in disrupters are all but useless. Armor just weighs a man down and gets in his way. This time you travel light, move fast, strike at will. The new battle drug was created in our own Church laboratories. It fires a man's faith, makes him faster, stronger, meaner. His strength is as the strength of ten because his heart is pure. A pure man with this battle drug in his veins could slay an entire army, armed only with the jawbone of an ass. And you will be very well armed. Those hell-damned Rejects won't even know what hit them.
"My friends, we must win this battle. Not just because the Empire depends on us for its security upon this factory's stardrive production, but because our enemies at Court and beyond are using our previous defeat here during the rebel attack for their own propaganda, to force us from our rightful place at the Empress Lionstone's side. We must regain our pride, whatever the cost. Remember, those who die fighting in the Church's name are sure of a place in heaven. If we fail, if our faith is found wanting, then those who survive will be recalled to Golgotha for debriefing by the Church interrogators. I know you would all rather die than see us return in disgrace."
He paused to look out over his flock and nodded with pride to see them staring unflinchingly back at him. "The Jesuit Fathers will move among you now, distributing the new drug and giving each group its orders. Assemble back here in half an hour, full field kit and weapons, ready to take the drug at the Fathers' commands. Regretfully, I cannot be with you. I have other pressing duties here. But I will be with you in spirit. Make me proud of you. Make the Church proud of you. Descend into the darkness below and kill every living thing you find. For the glory of God and the Empire, kill every rebel man, woman, and child, until none remain to spread defiance on this world."
Down below, in the honeycomb of tunnels and caverns carved out of the many layers of metal far below the surface of Technos III, rebel life went on as normal. The people lived in shifts so that progress was never slowed and they might never be caught napping. The Rejects had many enemies, from the world above to the wild creatures far below, and they had learned to be constantly prepared. Jack Random, Ruby Journey, and Alexander Storm were being taken on yet another tour by Specter Alice, to impress upon them the need for outside support.
"We can feed and clothe ourselves, and we raid the upper world for whatever else we need, but there are always shortages," said Specter Alice. "Ours is not a life of comforts. We are born into the struggle, give our lives to it, and die for it in the end. Few of us live to old age. Unless they're crazy, like me. We are fighters, first and foremost. Even in our deepest, most protected places, there is little time for leisure. The tunnels must be maintained, food hunted and preserved, our territory protected. We have schools. We tap into the factory computers. We're not barbarians. But the struggle must always come first. We take it in turn to man the trenches and endure the changing weathers of the world above. You say you need our help to stop the factory's work. Then send us fighters and energy weapons. We'll do the rest."
She broke off as Ruby Journey stopped abruptly. Everyone else stopped and looked back at her. The bounty hunter had made little attempt to hide her boredom, only there because Random had insisted, but now the sour blankness had left her face. She looked straight ahead, her dark eyes far away, seeming huge in her pale, pointed face.
"Someone's coming," she said softly. "A large force from above."
Storm looked quickly about him. "I can't hear anything."
"I can feel it," said Ruby. "Jack?"
"Yes. I feel it, too. One hell of a large force, headed this way. They've already broken through into the upper tunnels. Alice, sound the alarms. I have a strong feeling we are in a world of trouble. Ruby, lead the way."
She was off and running, sword in hand, almost before he'd finished speaking. Jack charged after her, leaving Storm to hurry along in his wake as best he could. Soon men and women of the Rejects were joining them from side tunnels, running effortlessly beside them with all kinds of weapons in their hands. They had no time or breath for idle chatter. It was enough that the tunnels were under attack. They knew what to do. They'd trained for it all their lives. They ran silently, the only sound the growing thunder of the pounding of their feet on the steel floors. The thunder rose as more and more joined the charge, heading relentlessly toward the upper tunnels. Until finally they came upon their enemy, the Faithful, cutting a bloody path through the outnumbered defenders. The Rejects howled their fury and threw themselves upon the Church troops. Steel clashed and blood spilled, and soon the tunnels were packed with struggling fighters.
The Faithful pressed steadily forward, screaming their chants and war cries, their eyes wide and fierce in their taut faces. The battle drug burned in their veins and fired their minds. They were more than human now, unbeatable emissaries of God, performing a holy duty. Victory was inevitable. They slammed into the rebels, swinging swords and axes, their drug-fueled strength beating aside the weapons of their enemies. There was neither room nor time for individual duels. Both sides fought where they could in the milling mass that seethed this way and that, spreading slowly out through the great maze of tunnels and caverns. Blades rose and fell, and men and women fell and were trampled underfoot. Some rebels tried to flee with the youngest children, but the Faithful seemed to be everywhere, blocking the exits with drawn swords. And the drug that burned within them showed no mercy to woman or child. There was running and fighting in the corridors, war cries and screams, and blood splashed the metal walls and floors. The air in the underground grew hot and oppressive and thick with the smells of sweat and blood and the stink of ruptured bodies.
Random and Ruby fought back-to-back, surrounded by eager enemies like so many snapping dogs. Storm had been carried away in the press of fighting, and Random couldn't spare the time to worry about his fate. His enemies pressed forward from every side, searching for a moment's hesitation or weakness so that they could drag him down. He swung his sword as best he could in the confined space, putting all his strength behind short savage arcs and sudden thrusts. His enemies fell, but there were always more. Random boosted, calling on the ancient Deathstalker secret he'd acquired from Owen; and on the edge of his mind he felt Ruby boosting, too. New strength flooded through them both, more than enough to counter the alchemical strength of the drug that burned so fiercely in the veins of the Faithful.
And above and below and all around, in the many tunnels and caverns and living quarters of the rebels, the Faithful and the Rejects fought and died, equally matched in savagery and determination, unable to advance and unwilling to retreat, no matter what price was paid in blood and death. Tunnel floors and doorways became blocked with the dead and the dying, and men had to clamber over corpses to get at each other. Rebels saw their families die, women and children cut down without pity or quarter, and fought the more savagely. There were screams of rage as well as pain, and the din grew deafening.
Random and Ruby fought on, held where they were by the sheer press of fighters, taking wounds as well as giving them simply because there was no room to dodge or duck. Random cut and hacked with cold precision and knew that for all his new youth and strength, and the added powers of the boost, he still wasn't going to win this one. There were just too many Faithful fighting like berserks, uncaring of what wounds they took or whether they lived or died, as long as their enemy fell before them. More Rejects were coming, running from miles and miles of underground tunnels. In the end there'd be enough to outnumber and overpower the Church troops, but not until too many men, women, and children had been butchered by Church steel and innocent blood stained the tunnels forever.
It came to Random that he was going to die, trapped in the cramped confines of the dimly lit tunnels, far from sky
and sun and open air, and the thought infuriated him. There was so much he'd intended to do, inspired by his second chance at life, and so much he'd left undone, because he'd been so sure there would be time in the future. Now time had run out. He was going to die, not through any failure of strength or spirit, but simply because he was outnumbered. And Ruby… Ruby would die, too. That thought fired him as nothing else could. He mourned the undoubted loss of his old friend Alex and the failed hopes of the Technos rebels, but in the end it was the thought of Ruby Journey lying dead and broken on the bloody floor that flared up in him, consuming all else in a need for retribution and revenge.
His mind burst free of its self-imposed restraints and reached out to touch and join with Ruby's. Their thoughts slammed together, merging and melding, becoming a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts. A brilliant light flared up around them, blazing hot like the sun, devouring those around them who couldn't retreat fast enough. The Faithful burst into flames, burning like candles, their flesh running like hot wax. The heat consumed the Church troops in seconds, melting their swords and body armor, spreading out through the tunnels in a traveling wave of spontaneous combustions. Only the Rejects were untouched, though the heat of the burning bodies drove them back, arms raised to protect their faces. The Faithful screamed and died, and suddenly the survivors had turned and were running back toward the surface and sanity. The wave of killing heat swept after them, snapping at the heels of the slowest and setting their hair alight. Horrid shadows danced along the metal walls as the Faithful fled, screaming in horror as though the devil himself pursued them. And perhaps he did.