Deathstalker War

  “Help rebuild the starport. If we can.”

  “The Golgotha underground will supply you with whatever high-tech you need.” She sipped her wine to indicate she was about to change the subject. “You don’t know what happened to Chance and his kids, do you?”

  “Oh, they’ll come through all right,” said Silver easily. “His kind always do. The esper union is looking after the children, here in the Hall somewhere. I think the powers that be are feeling a bit guilty about abandoning them to someone like Chance, just because they didn’t want to be bothered with children who reminded them of the dark side of esp.” He looked round. “Owen’s coming back. I’d better make myself scarce. Look after yourself, Hazel.”

  “You too, John. From what I hear, you were quite the hero, out fighting in the streets.”

  Silver grinned. “Yeah. I don’t know what came over me.”

  He gave her a bow and a wink, and moved off into the party.

  Not that far away, Investigator Topaz and Typhoid Mary were talking quietly. Neither of them cared much for parties, as a rule, but after the death of so many people, they both felt a need for the comfort of a crowd. When the thousands of minds in Legion died, they had felt each one through the Mater Mundi’s link, and some of Death’s cold hand had brushed against their souls. So they came to the union esper hall, to warm themselves in the presence of friends.

  “I still don’t know if I did the right thing,” said Mary, looking down into her wineglass.

  “Of course you did,” Topaz said briskly. “Anyone who died on the Defiant needed to die, whether they were innocent minds trapped in Legion, or Imperial butchers come to kill us all. I’m more interested in the Mater Mundi. What did it feel like, being the focus?”

  Mary frowned. “I’m not sure. I’m already beginning to forget it. I think my mind is protecting me from things I’m not ready to deal with. I felt . . . larger, more real, somehow. As though the whole of my life was a dream, from which I awoke for a short while. Part of me wants it again, but the rest of me is scared shitless at the very thought. That business with the control words worries me as well. The Mater Mundi contact wiped out the controls Razor activated, but who knows what else the mind techs might have planted deep within me?”

  “Worry about it when it happens,” said Topaz. “After the way the Empire got its ass kicked here today, I think we can safely assume it’ll be some time before we have to worry about Imperial agents again. And you’re a lot stronger than you used to be. When you focused the Mater Mundi, it changed you. Your mind is more powerful now. I can feel it. When I look at you with my mind, it’s like staring into the sun.”

  “I know,” said Mary. “That’s something else that worries me.”

  “Hell,” said Topaz. “You wouldn’t be happy if you didn’t have something to worry about. It’s in your nature.”

  “True,” said Typhoid Mary.

  Jenny Psycho watched them talk together, from a safe distance, but felt more numb than jealous. She still couldn’t get over the fact that the Mater Mundi had chosen to manifest through someone else this time, not her. She’d called for help in the streets of Mistport, and the Mother had ignored her. She was slowly beginning to realize that she’d have to find a new purpose in life, that she wasn’t who she’d thought she was.

  Councillor McVey cornered Gideon Steel, who was sulking quietly by the punch bowl. The Port Director was rather upset that he didn’t have a starport to be Director of anymore.

  “Snap out of it, Steel,” said McVey. “With Magnus and Barron dead, Castle out of his mind with grief, and Donald Royal telling anyone who’ll listen that it’s his destiny to fight alongside Jack Random, wherever he goes, that only leaves you and me as city Councillors. And there’s a hell of a lot of work to be done in putting this city back together. I can’t do it on my own, Gideon.”

  Steel sighed heavily. “I suppose you’re right. But I was happy being Port Director. It was the only job I was ever any good at.”

  “It was the only job where you could syphon off a lot of money on the side.”

  Steel looked at McVey. “You knew?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because you were a good Port Director. It’s a hard job, and no one else on the Council wanted it. So, are you going to help me rebuild Mistport? Think of all the work and construction contracts you’ll be in charge of. A man with his wits about him would be in a position to steal himself a fortune.”

  “You talked me into it,” said Steel. “When do we start?”

  Back on the other side of the room, Neeson the banker had come to pay his respects to Owen Deathstalker. He looked battered and tired, but surprisingly happy.

  “You look like you’ve been in the wars,” said Owen.

  “Damn right,” said Neeson. “Most fun I’ve had in years. I started out as a mercenary, you know. This sword for hire, and all that. Your father brought me into the business world. Said someone with my instincts would go far in banking. And how right he was. Anyway, I came to tell you that my associates and I have decided to reactivate and maintain the old Deathstalker information network.”

  “How very public-spirited of you,” said Hazel. “What brought that on?”

  “Well, partly because of the gentleman standing at your side, partly because everyone on Mistworld is now part of the great rebellion, whether we want it or not, and partly because we all feel more alive now than we have in a long time. Business has its own rewards, but it’s not exactly exciting, you know. It’s a poor life when you’re reduced to getting cheap thrills from foreclosing on someone’s mortgage. No, being a rebel sounds much more fun. See you around, Deathstalker.”

  He nodded briskly to Owen and Hazel, and wandered off in search of food and wine and someone else to whom he could boast about his transformation. There’s no one more enthusiastic than a middle-aged convert. He was replaced by the journalist Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn. Their press credentials had saved them from the general slaughter of the invading forces, but now they were stranded on Mistworld until they could beg, borrow, or steal passage off.

  “Hi there,” said Toby. “Mind if we join you? We’ve brought our own bottle.”

  “Now there speaks a civilized man,” said Owen. “I understand you’re interested in coming along with us desperate rebel types when we leave?”

  “Damn right,” said Toby. “You people are where the story is. Besides, we asked everybody else, and they all said no.”

  “Fair enough,” said Owen. “If you’re looking for a good story, some of my associates are planning an expedition to a planet called Haceldama. I’ll put you in contact with them. In the meantime, why aren’t you interviewing Jack Random? He’s the official hero of the hour.”

  Toby and Flynn looked at each other, and then Toby leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Are you sure that is Jack Random?”

  Owen and Hazel kept their faces blank, but they leaned forward and lowered their voices, too. “What makes you think that he isn’t?” said Hazel.

  “Because we saw him leading a rebellion on Technos III, just a few weeks ago,” said Toby. “And he looked . . . different. Older.”

  “Much older,” said Flynn. “I’ve got it all on tape. And my camera never lies.”

  “Lots of people have claimed to be Jack Random, down the years,” Owen said neutrally. “Let’s just say this one seems more convincing than most.”

  Toby glanced back at Random, still surrounded by well-wishers and devoted disciples. “Doesn’t it bother you, that he’s getting all the glory? You two did just as much as he. Flynn got most of it on tape.”

  Hazel shrugged. “Last thing I need is being bothered by autograph hunters. Let him be the hero, if that’s what he wants. I was never very comfortable with the role anyway.”

  “Heads up,” said Owen. “I think he’s going to say something.”

  The speech that followed was a triumph. Short, shar
p, lucid, and witty. A professional speechwriter couldn’t have done better. Young Jack Random stirred the crowd’s blood with praises for their deeds in protecting their city, and with promises of more battles against injustice to come. On to Golgotha! he cried, and everyone cheered and applauded. Owen and Hazel applauded, too, so as not to seem small, but neither of them was swayed by his words. He was still just too good to be true, for them.

  But, ail things considered, Owen felt basically upbeat. Things seemed to be going his way for once. The Imperial invasion had been defeated, Mistport had been saved, his own mission was apparently a great success, and he’d faced the prophecy of his own death and survived after all. Not that he’d ever really believed in it, but it was good to put it behind him. It was like having a new lease on life; and life was very good just then.

  He and Hazel stood together and watched the crowd cheer itself hoarse for Jack Random, and were quietly content.

  CHAPTER TWO

  INNOCENCE LOST

  They called it Shannon’s World, because it was his dream, his vision. He all but bankrupted himself bringing it into existence, but the result was a pleasure world like no other, reserved only for the very rich, the extremely well connected, and the strictly aristocratic. Its location was a secret known only to the glamorous few, and for those inquisitive others who bribed or bullied their way to Shannon’s World uninvited, state-of-the-art security and weapons systems waited to blow them out of this world and into the next. Shannon’s World, where mountains sang to each other, fantasies and dreams became real, and the whole world was alive. A pleasure planet unlike any other, where even the weariest of souls could find rest and comfort and contentment.

  And then the awful thing happened.

  Afterward, Shannon’s World cut itself off from the Empire, refusing to acknowledge any form of contact. Visitors were destroyed while still in orbit, no matter whom they represented. The Empress sent a ship. It never came back. She sent a starcruiser, which managed to land a full brigade of marines. Something killed them. So she tried a series of covert Security teams. Only one man returned from what had been the foremost pleasure planet in the Empire. He came back soaked in many people’s blood, quite mad, his mind destroyed by what he’d seen, and died soon after, mostly because he wanted to. He renamed the planet Haceldama, the Field of Blood.

  The Empress put the planet under Quarantine, stationed a starcruiser in far orbit to make sure whatever was down there didn’t get out, and then turned her attention to other things. Thanks to the traitor Deathstalker and his growing rebellion, she had far more pressing worries than a pleasure planet gone bad. And so things might have remained, if the most important strategic and military mind in the Empire, one Vincent Harker, hadn’t crash-landed on what used to be Shannon’s World. In his head was information vital to both the Empire and the rebellion. The Empress sent down a company of her elite battle troops to recover him. They never reported back.

  Now, it was the rebels’ turn.

  In a hastily converted cargo ship called the Wild Rose, a small group of rebels watched the sensor panels closely, and hoped the new Hadenman cloaking system was everything it was supposed to be. The planet’s defenses were powerful enough to batter down any force shield generated by anything less than a full starcruiser, and the cargo ship’s shields were strictly rudimentary. Either the Hadenman device fooled the orbiting satellites, or the rebels wouldn’t live long enough to know they were dead. The device squatted behind them, roughly bolted to the deck, all sharp edges and unexpected angles, with strange lights that came and went for no apparent reason. The rebels preferred not to look at it. The shape of the device hurt their eyes. They kept their gaze fixed on the sensor panels and the main viewscreen, watching the planet grow slowly beneath them, cool and blue and utterly enigmatic.

  On board the Wild Rose was Finlay Campbell, the aristo turned rebel, daredevil fighter with a coldness in his soul, who had once been secretly the Masked Gladiator, undefeated champion of the Golgotha Arenas. At his side his lady love, Evangeline Shreck, daughter of the aristocracy, who lived for years with the secret that she was really only a clone, created to replace the daughter sexually abused and murdered by her father. On Finlay’s other side, Julian Skye, the rogue esper rescued by Finlay from the interrogation cells under Golgotha. Skye was once one of the most powerful espers in the Empire and a daring rebel, but his time in the bloodstained hands of the mind techs had left him hurt and damaged, perhaps beyond his ability to recover. And finally there was Giles Deathstalker, the legendary hero who’d spent over nine hundred years in stasis, emerging to find an Empire he barely recognized. Rebels one and all, representatives of the Golgotha underground, desperate to find Vincent Harker before the Empire forces did.

  Also along for the ride were Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn, heading toward a story darker and stranger than they had ever known.

  Finlay stirred impatiently at the sensor panels. He’d never handled waiting well. His only prayer had always been, dear Lord, please deliver me into battle and danger up to my eyes. He had once been a master of fashion, a fop and dandy of great renown, a persona and mask he’d created to hide his secret other existence as the Masked Gladiator, feted darling of the Arenas. Now he was on the run from the Society he’d once moved in so freely, just another rebel among many, expendable enough to be sent on what many regarded as a suicide mission. He was twenty-six years old, and looked easily ten years older. His long hair had faded to a yellow so pale it was almost colorless. He wore it tied back in a single, practical pigtail. He had the look of a mercenary soldier; cold and dangerous but essentially uninvolved. He only joined the rebels to better protect his love Evangeline, and made no secret of his distance from the underground’s politics. It was enough that they provided him with missions where he could test his courage and skill with weapons. Finlay Campbell was fast becoming that most dangerous of men—one with nothing left to lose. Only Evangeline kept him sane and focused, and both of them knew it.

  Evangeline Shreck had lived most of her life in fear. Fear of being exposed as a clone and executed for the unforgivable crime of having successfully impersonated an aristocrat. Fear of her father’s perverted love. Fear of always being alone. And then she found Finlay, and for the first time in her life she had a reason to go on living. If he died, she didn’t know what she’d do. Unlike Finlay, she had no taste for danger and excitement, but as a clone she was fiercely dedicated to the rebel cause. And if the many tensions of her life were slowly tearing her apart, that was her business. Gamine and elfin, her military fatigues hung about her like a tent. She had large dark eyes a man could drown in, a firm mouth, and the unmistakable air of a survivor. Of someone who had lived through pain and horror and despair, and had not broken under them. Yet.

  They stood together, studying the bright blue planet on the viewscreen before them. There were no signs of civilization, nothing to show that Humanity had ever made a mark on Shannon’s World. No cities, no great roads, nothing big enough to trigger the ship’s sensors. Whatever lived down there was keeping itself hidden and secret. Evangeline sighed suddenly.

  “It looks so innocent. Untouched by man. Not at all like a Field of Blood. What could have happened down there, what terrible thing, to justify such a name?”

  Finlay smiled slightly. “Something powerful and nasty enough to kill off every armed man the Iron Bitch has sent down there, so far. And there’s not much that can stand against a full force of armed marines. I’ve always liked a challenge.”

  “Do you think . . . could it be something like the Grendel alien? I’ve seen the holo of what that creature did at Court.”

  “Unlikely,” said Toby from the back. “After the horror of what happened on Grendel, every planet in the Empire was searched for signs of more Vaults. Not even a pleasure planet like this would have been exempt. And if anyone had found more Sleepers, there’s no way they could have kept it quiet. There isn’t that much money in the Empire.”

/>   “Don’t worry, love,” said Finlay to Evangeline, putting an arm across her shoulders and pulling her close. “Whatever’s down there, I’ll protect you.”

  “Did you ever come here?” said Evangeline. “I never did. I’d heard of Shannon’s World, but Daddy didn’t believe in letting me out of his sight.”

  “I’ve been most places,” said Finlay. “But never here. I was always too busy. And it didn’t sound like the kind of place where I’d fit in. Too peaceful. Ironic, isn’t it? That what was designed as the safest, most secure place in the Empire should end up a nightmare renamed the Field of Blood. Still, that’s life in the Empire for you these days. Just as a matter of interest, how did we get the coordinates for this place? I thought they were strictly need to know, only issued to actual visitors?”

  “Valentine Wolfe supplied them,” said Evangeline, her voice carefully neutral. “Before he left us, to become Lionistone’s right-hand man. Apparently he’d been here once, but didn’t care for it. Something about the place . . . disturbed him. He thought we should blow it all up.”

  “The Wolfe,” said Finlay, his lips curling back in something between a snarl and a smile. “I must find him and thank him personally. And then I’ll cut his heart out and hold it still beating in my hand. He destroyed my Family, betrayed the rebellion, and spit on everything I ever believed in.”

  “Be fair,” said Toby Shreck, butting into the conversation with the casual ease of the experienced journalist. “We are, after all, talking about Valentine Wolfe, famed for degeneracy in a Court where the appalling and the disgusting have become commonplace. The man who never met a drug he didn’t like. I’m amazed you people let him into the underground in the first place.”

  “He had money and contacts,” said Evangeline. “At a time when we needed both. Besides, he came with good recommendations.”

  “Who from?” said Toby. “The Royal Guild of Chemists? If you nurse a viper in your bosom, you shouldn’t be surprised if it turns round and bites you.”