“You can’t kill me, Deathstalker. I’m your Empress.”
“I want to kill you, Lionstone,” Owen said slowly. “You don’t know how much I want to. For all the things you did to me, and to your people. For all the dead of Virimonde, and for all who lived in fear and pain because of you. But I won’t kill you. That’s your way. You’re going to stand trial, Lionstone. Let the people judge you. It’s their right, as your victims.”
“Well done, Owen,” said Hazel, as she came up beside him. “You finally got it right.”
And then the floating viewscreens suddenly reappeared on the air around them, and turned themselves on. Young Jack Random’s face appeared on every screen, smiling easily. Being dead didn’t seem to have bothered him at all. “Hello, everyone,” he said calmly. “We’re using this face as you’re familiar with it. For those of you who haven’t been keeping up, I speak for the AIs of Shub. It’s time for you to hear some of the truths we’ve been hiding from you. Shub owns the computer Matrix of Golgotha. We infiltrated it long ago, making contact with the AIs that were spontaneously generating in the Matrix, and used them to take control of the larger business entities as they evolved. All part of our plan to control Humanity through its own tech.
“Not only did we thus have access to all of Humanity’s business information, which we manipulated to our own ends and for our own amusement, but we have also been destroying human minds as they entered the Matrix, occupying their empty bodies and sending them forth as spies. Even better and more undetectable than Furies. How does it feel, knowing we walk among you, unsuspected? People you’d know, too. We’re everywhere. You can’t trust anyone, these days. Still, I’m not here to chat. Dear Lionstone, you’ve looked better. But we can still save you from your enemies. You have a home with us on Shub, if you wish. You’ll have to leave your body behind, but it’s such a limited thing anyway. Open your mind to us, through your comm implants, and we’ll do the rest. Come to Shub and live forever. You’ll have to give up your Humanity, but you’ll live forever.”
“Anything for revenge,” said Lionstone, and opened her comm implants. Something from outside seized her mind and tore it out of her body. Her consciousness surged up and out, leaving Golgotha and human cares and limitations behind. Her face replaced Young Jack’s on all the viewscreens, laughing triumphantly, and then she was gone, and the screens shut down again. It was very quiet in the Court. The rebels moved slowly forward and looked down at Lionstone’s body, lying bloodied and broken before the Iron Throne. It was still breathing. They all looked at each other, and then Kit SummerIsle leaned over and cut off her head.
“For you, David,” he said softly, and he straightened up holding the head up by the hair for the others to see. “Just in case. And we’ll want something to show the people. Let them think her dead and gone. It’s for the best.”
“Er, sorry,” said Toby Shreck from the back, where everyone had forgotten about him. “But this has all being going out live through Flynn’s camera, remember? The whole Empire’s been watching this.”
“Right,” said Flynn. “Got some great close-ups, too.”
“Ah well,” said Random. “At least now they know what kind of creature they had for an Empress.”
Owen shook his head. “Great. More problems. You realize we’re going to have to send the cyberats into the Matrix to clean it out before we can use it? Assuming they’re as good as they claim they are.”
“What about the AIs in human form?” said Ruby. “Now that is one hell of a spooky thought. They said we’d know some of them.”
“They probably just said that to mess with our heads,” said Hazel.
“Are you ready to put money on that?” said Ruby.
“Either way,” said Random. “The struggle isn’t over, just because Lionstone’s no longer on the Iron Throne. Right, Owen? Owen?”
They all looked round, to where Owen was standing at the foot of the Throne. Lionstone’s diamond crown had fallen off when Kit decapitated the empty body, and it was lying right at his feet. It filled his sight. The crown that ruled the Empire. He stood there, in the abandoned Court, blood dripping from the sword in his hand, at the end of his quest, and what did he have to show for it all? He could pick up the crown, place it on his head, and declare himself Emperor. He could. He was the last Deathstalker, almost as big a legend as the original. Hero of the rebellion, Redeemer of the lost Hadenmen, Savior of Mistworld. There were any number of people and causes he could count on to support him, for their various reasons. He could be Emperor. He might have to kill or imprison a few old friends, abandon a few beliefs, but he could rule the Empire. Put things right. Make it over in his image. He reached down and picked up the crown.
“Well?” said Hazel quietly, at his side. “Do you want it?”
Owen weighed the crown in his hands, and then let it drop to the floor. “No. It’s too heavy for me.”
“You have a legitimate claim,” Random said carefully.
“No,” said Owen. “I was tempted, but only for a moment. I never wanted to be a ruler, any more than I wanted to be a warrior. Maybe now this is all over, I’ll be allowed to go back to being an historian and scholar again, of no importance to anyone but myself. It’s all I ever really wanted.” He looked at the Iron Throne. “No more crowns. No more Thrones. They corrupt people, bringing out the worst in them. Even good people, like Giles.” He clenched his fists and glared at the Throne. It cracked apart from top to bottom, and collapsed into dark broken pieces. “No more Thrones. No more rulers. It’s time we ruled ourselves.”
“Well said, Owen,” said Jack Random, moving forward to clap him on the shoulder. “But it’s not over yet, for you or me. The aliens are still out there. And Shub. Someone’s got to rebuild the Empire and make Humanity strong again. We’re going to be needed more than ever.”
“You know, we never did decide just what kind of system we’re going to replace the Empire with,” said Hazel. “There are a lot of people in the rebellion who had nothing in common but a desire to bring Lionstone down. I foresee a lot of arguments and raised voices in the near future.”
“Good,” said Random. “Healthy debate is the cornerstone of democracy.”
“And if we don’t like what they’re saying, we can always kick their asses,” said Ruby. Random looked at her. Ruby raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“That is a problem for tomorrow,” said Owen. “Savor today’s victory. We paid enough for it, in blood and the loss of friends and loved ones.”
“Some of us are still here,” said Hazel.
“Quite right,” said Owen. And he took her in his arms and kissed her. Hazel pulled back.
“Don’t take too much for granted, stud.” And then she kissed him.
“Zoom in for a close-up,” Toby whispered to Flynn. “Don’t you just love a happy ending?”
EPILOGUE
The story isn’t over yet.
After the rebellion the real struggle begins, as the various factions fight it out over which political system will replace the Empire. Old friends become enemies, and old enemies become reluctant allies. Old debts are paid in blood, hidden movers behind the scenes are revealed, and long-established plans and conspiracies come to a head. The war over the Iron Throne is ended, but the struggle for the soul of Humanity goes on.
There’s something alive in the Darkvoid. The Hadenmen reveal their own, inhuman, agenda. The true nature of the Mater Mundi is revealed. The Madness Maze returns to lost Haden. And the aliens are coming back.
And in the end, it will all come down to one man, Owen Deathstalker, to face his final destiny in the back streets of Mistport, and save or damn the future of Humanity.
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Other Deathstalker Books
Twilight of the Empire Deathstalker
Deathstalker Rebellion
Deathstalker Honor
Deathstalker Destiny
Deathstalker Legacy
Deathst
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Deathstalker Coda
The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher
Swords of Haven
Guards of Haven
Also by Simon R. Green
Blue Moon Rising
Beyond the Blue Moon
Blood and Honor
Down Among the Dead Men
Shadows Fall
The Man with the Golden Torc
Daemons Are Forever
Ace Books
The Nightside Series
Something from the Nightside
Agents of Light and Darkness
Nightingale’s Lament
Hex and the City
Paths Not Taken
Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth
Hell to Pay
The Unnatural Inquirer
Simon R. Green, Deathstalker War
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