Deathstalker

  So what are we supposed to do? said Silence. Do we get to talk to the baby?

  No, said the Ashrai. He doesn't trust you. He will see only Owen. But you have done well to come this far. You have a vital part to play in this last battle for the soul of Humanity.

  How do you know all this? said Silence.

  We have a link to the Maze. An old link. Our ancestors knew the Maze, long and long ago. We had forgotten, till Sean brought us here. But we have said all there is to say. The Maze has changed you both, in ways that may be useful. Now we must go, to face the Enemy. Because the Recreated are very close now, and if they win, the light will go out of the galaxy forever.

  And as suddenly as that, Silence and Carrion were back on the bridge of the Dauntless. The bridge crew looked round, startled, voices rising in questions Silence didn't have any answers for. He cut them off with a sharp wave of his hand, and strode over to take his seat in the command chair. Carrion stood at his side, power lance in hand, apparently entirely unruffled.

  "All right," said Silence. "Bring me up to speed. Show me where the Recreated are, right now."

  "All over us," said the comm officer, Morag Tal. "We've been under fire almost from the moment you… left the bridge. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and our shields are failing. Apart from that, things are pretty bad. Any chance of reinforcements, Captain?"

  "I doubt it," said Silence. "Where's the Sunstrider?"

  "Right beside us, and firing off more guns at once than I would have thought possible. Hazel d'Ark appears to be the only one on board. She's doing a lot of damage to the bad guys, and Sunstrider's got some really impressive shields, but even so, she's taking one hell of a battering. Just like us."

  Silence studied the awful shapes filling the viewscreen, even at full magnification, and felt a cold hand clutch at his heart. The sheer scale of the ships and the creatures, and their endless numbers… A glance at the tactical displays just underlined how desperate the situation was.

  "Orders, Captain?" said Morag Tal, her voice carefully calm and even. The bridge hushed as everyone turned to look at the Captain.

  "We fight, until we can't fight anymore," said Silence. "We have to hold the Recreated's attention. Buy time for the Deathstalker, down in the planet. And hope to God he can pull a miracle out of the hat one last time."

  And then he broke off, staring at the viewscreen in stunned surprise. Everyone followed his gaze, and they all watched in awestruck silence as reinforcements came from nowhere to join in the fight against the Recreated.

  It was the Ashrai. Given life and form again by the Madness Maze, they soared across open space, wild and wonderful and very savage. At home in space like an endless sky, they hit the Recreated like an army of angry angels, attacking with claws and fangs, vicious fury and inhuman strength. There seemed no end to their numbers, surging through the cold vacuum on widespread wings, riding winds only they could feel. They were very small, compared to the Recreated, but they were the Ashrai, born again to battle and glory, and they were damned if they would lose again.

  "Damn," said Silence softly. "How did we ever beat them?"

  "You cheated," said Carrion. "Now, if you'll excuse me; I have to join my people."

  And he ran forward and dived headfirst into the main viewscreen. It should have shattered under the impact, but as Silence rose sharply from his chair. Carrion plunged into the viewscreen like a dark pool, and was gone, leaving the screen untouched behind him. A moment later, his image appeared on the viewscreen, in open space outside the Dauntless. A small darting figure, he flew through space to join the Ashrai, his power lance glowing bright as a star. The utter cold of airless space didn't seem to be bothering him at all, as he flew through the vacuum as naturally as the Ashrai.

  "Damn," said Silence, slowly settling into his command chair again. "The Maze really did change him."

  He wondered for a moment what the Maze might have done to him, but the moment passed as he barked orders at his startled crew, bringing them back to their senses and their stations. The Dauntless fired upon the Recreated with every gun she had, blasting away at the unfeeling ships and creatures gathering inexorably above the Wolfling World. Whatever damage the Dauntless did, it wasn't enough to do more than slow that gathering, but more and more of the enemy turned their attention away from the planet to strike back at the Dauntless. The Sunstrider was there too, while Carrion and the Ashrai swarmed all over the Recreated. And all of them knew they were only buying time—against an enemy that would inevitably destroy them—for the one man down below who might hold the answer to the final endgame.

  Owen Deathstalker, cut off from Time, made his way unhurriedly toward the center of the Maze. He had been there before, and remembered the way. It felt like being a child again, going back to the warmth and comfort of the Family hearth, after a long time in the cold. He came at last to the hidden heart of the Madness Maze, and it was just as he remembered it. It was a wide, circular space, calm as the eye of the storm, shimmering walls surrounding it like the silver petals of an immense flower. And there, in the exact center of the protected space—a glowing crystal, some four feet across, holding within its warm golden glow a tiny human baby. He couldn't have been more than a month old, his details still forming and settling into place. His eyes were closed, and if he breathed at all it was so slowly Owen couldn't see it. The baby had one thumb tucked securely into its rosebud mouth. Owen leaned over the crystal, studying his distant ancestor. He seemed very small and innocent, to be so powerful and so very dangerous.

  "Well," said a strangely familiar voice, behind him. "It took you long enough to get here."

  Owen spun around sharply, and then winced as the still healing wound in his side flared up. And then he forgot all about that as he found himself looking at… himself. Owen Deathstalker, exact in every detail, was standing facing him, hands on hips, studying him critically.

  "Who the hell are you?" said Owen.

  "Wrong question," said his double calmly. "You should have asked, What are you? Here's a clue."

  First the face and then the shape of Owen's double ran like liquid, and the whole form reshaped itself in a moment, becoming instead an exact duplicate of Giles Deathstalker. He smiled charmingly at Owen, an expression that didn't really suit Giles's face. Then the double quickly realized that this identity didn't appeal to Owen either, judging by his deepening frown, and changed again, becoming Cathy DeVries, Owen's old mistress and dead love.

  "That better?" said Cathy.

  "Depends," said Owen. "What the hell are you?"

  "I have many names, but one nature. Many forms and none. I am older than your Empire, and indeed your entire species, and I am every dream you ever had, including the ones that made you cry out in the night. I'm also responsible for everything happening here, though I don't like to boast. Well, I do, but I'm programmed against it. I created the Madness Maze, and I've been waiting a very long time to meet you, Owen Deathstalker."

  Owen paused for a moment, considering this, and then decided to stick with the part he could understand. "Why did you look like me, and then Giles, and now Cathy?"

  "To put you at your ease."

  "Trust me," said Owen. "It's not working."

  Cathy shrugged. "There's only so much I can do. I have a vast repertoire of shapes and forms, but you wouldn't like most of them. I think I'll stick with this one for the time being, or at least until I get bored. I've been studying Humanity for longer than you could comfortably comprehend, and I'm still no nearer understanding you. You're remarkably complex for such a limited life-form. But then, it's that potential that makes you perfect for our needs. We seem to be drifting away from the point of this conversation. Would it help you if I explained that I am in fact an ancient, semi-sentient recording, left behind by a mighty and noble species that passed through your galaxy long ago?"

  Owen considered this. "Possibly. You're just… a recording? Not an actual member of your species?"

  "Alas, no.
You couldn't cope with the real thing. But I am a fairly accurate recreation of as much of us as you could hope to comprehend."

  "Wait a minute," said Owen. "I have this horrid feeling I've seen you before. You're that shape-changing alien who appeared in Lionstone's Court a few years back, disguised as a priest! I saw the holo recording. Silliest damn thing I ever saw. Everyone wondered why we'd never encountered your species before, and why we could never find a trace of you or your kind again."

  "Oh yes," said Cathy cheerfully. "That was me. Or rather, one of me. I am widely spread, with parts of me everywhere Humanity goes, watching and recording. Forbidden to interfere directly, of course. I follow the path I was created to follow, and you've no idea how frustrating that can be. Humans can be so exasperating. Give them three choices, and they'll come up with a fourth every time. Sometimes I think they just do it to be perverse. Luckily I'm only semi-sentient, or I'd have washed my hands of you long ago."

  "Slow down a bit," said Owen, just a little desperately. "You're all that's left of a shape-changing species that passed through long ago. Okay. Where did you come from, and where did you go?"

  "We came from outside your galaxy, long and long ago. As to where we went, you're not ready to know that. You've come a long way, Owen Deathstalker, but you're still basically human. Trust me; it's not anywhere Humanity could hope to follow. Not until your species has done a hell of a lot more evolving, anyway. Why don't you ask me what we did, while we were here? That's much more interesting."

  "Might as well," Owen said resignedly. "This is going to take some time, isn't it?"

  "Oh yes," said Cathy. "I've got such a lot to tell you. But at least after you've heard it all, your life may make a little more sense. You are the final product of generations of planning, Owen Deathstalker, not all of it human. Shall we be seated?"

  Two comfortable chairs appeared out of nowhere. Owen and Cathy sat down facing each other. Beside them, the baby slept peacefully in its glowing crystal, sucking its tiny thumb.

  "We created the Madness Maze to raise Humanity to its full potential," said the alien recording with Cathy's face. "But somehow, it didn't work out that way. The first to discover the Maze were the Blood Runners, and they were frightened, and ran away. The Hadenmen scientists came out of the Maze with the right idea, the perfectibility of Mankind, but they got the method all wrong. They tried to do it with tech, when all they really needed was the Maze, and faith in themselves. They were already superhuman, but they couldn't believe it was possible without tech. Humanity has always been rather small, not to say limited, in its thinking. The Wolflings were really just a mistake; amplifying Mankind's animal heritage, looking back instead of forward."

  Cathy leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Owen's. "Humanity must evolve; become more than it is, achieve its full potential. You have to. Something awful is coming, from far beyond your galaxy. It's not life as you know it; it's strange and terrible, awful and mighty, totally destructive and utterly unstoppable. They destroyed most of my species. A great and ancient civilization, blown away to dust, and less than dust. Just a few of us escaped, and fled here, to your galaxy. They had no name for themselves that we could understand. What we called them translates simply as, the Terror.

  "They move slowly. Because of their size and nature they don't need or use starships or stardrives, so they move at less than light speed. But the Terror destroyed every living thing in our galaxy, and they are coming here. Slowly, but they are coming, and you must be prepared and ready to meet them. As you are now, you have nothing that could stand against them. The Recreated in their insanity are but the merest glimpse of the true horror of the Terror. They eat souls, and their young incubate in suns. They are extradimensional creatures, beyond your comprehension, and all of Space and Time is their prey. As flies to wanton boys are we to the Terror.

  "You are not the first species we have tried to raise to a higher level. We've been here in your galaxy for some considerable time. We tried with a species on the world you call Wolf IV. We taught them to transform themselves as we do, but they gave in to their own inner demons, and destroyed themselves. We tried again, with another species, on the planet you call Grendel. They transformed themselves into living killing machines, in their fear, and placed themselves in suspended animation in their Vaults, to await the coming of the Terror. This was not what was intended. Next, we created the metallic forests on Unseeli, for the Ashrai, and they became… farmers, interested only in preserving the trees, instead of using them to spur their own evolution. Finally, we turned to Humanity. Small as you were, we saw the potential for greatness in you.

  "This time, we decided not to just give you the benefits we brought. Instead, we created the Maze, and left it for you to search out and investigate for yourselves. Hopefully that would make you value it more. And eventually, after many false starts, you and your companions came to the Maze and passed all the way through, and emerged transformed. The first butterflies from a race of caterpillars. It had taken a while, but at last the Maze had found the right sort of people; intense, focused, determined people."

  "But… what did the Maze do to us, really?" said Owen. "I thought at first we were some kind of super-esper, but we're not. What are we, now?"

  "You are what Humanity would have become, in its far and distant future. The Maze just speeded evolution up a bit. A shortcut. You have the power to change reality itself through force of will." Cathy smiled at his expression. "Didn't any of you ever realize? It expressed itself differently in each of you, according to your individual needs and propensities, but really any of you could have done anything the others did. If you just had faith. Only your own limited thinking held you back. Of course; you were all supposed to stay and work together. The whole would have been far greater than the sum of its parts. But you insisted on going your own, separate ways. Humans… That's why so many people died or went insane trying to pass through the Maze. It could only help and change those flexible enough to change their thinking. Those too rigid in their thoughts, too unworthy or too scared to change, broke rather than be transformed. Their madness and death came from inside themselves, not from the Maze."

  "Let's talk about the baby," said Owen. "What's his part in all this?"

  "When Giles died, the baby somehow knew it," said Cathy. "He began to wake, drifting slowly up from the protecting depths of sleep. The Recreated sensed this, and became desperate. If the baby were to wake, then the source of their power, their very existence, was under threat."

  "Is that what triggered the Recreated's great assault on Humanity?" said Owen. "By killing Giles, am I responsible for their attack?"

  "No. They started out of the Darkvoid after Captain Silence destroyed the Maze. In fact, it had only jumped forward through Time, but the Recreated didn't know that. All they knew was that the source of their power was suddenly gone. They were able to survive, until the Maze returned, but the experience panicked them. You now know all you need to know. It's time we began the last part of your journey. Of your destiny."

  Cathy rose to her feet, and Owen did so too. The chairs disappeared silently. Cathy turned her gaze on the sleeping baby, and after a moment Owen did so too.

  "He is your kin, your Family," said Cathy softly. "You are both Deathstalkers. Talk to him, Owen. He will hear you."

  "I don't even know his name," Owen protested. "And anyway, he's still asleep."

  "Reach out to him," said Cathy. "He'll hear you."

  Owen turned to look at the sleeping baby, and found his eyes were already open and looking at him. They were dark eyes, like his, but clear and calm and full of wonder. Owen reached out with his mind, and the baby's thoughts came to meet him. They blazed like fireworks, like comets in the night, blindingly bright and gaudily colored, and at first all Owen could understand was the baby's feelings; warm and loving and surprisingly trusting. Owen opened himself to the baby, who learned words and concepts from him in a moment. The baby's mind was very large, though strangely un
focused in places, and Owen felt like a single fish in a sentient ocean. He worried briefly that he might drown there, but the baby quickly broadcast reassurance. They relaxed together, concentrating on their link. The baby had learned much from the Maze, but people were still new to him. Two Maze-altered Deathstalkers communed in an alien place, and found joy in each other. They talked, sometimes in words and sometimes not, like father and child, and more and less than that.

  I'm sorry about what I did, said the baby, mentally. I want to put everything right again, and I will, but I need time to consider how. I don't want to make any more mistakes. You must buy me the time I need.

  Whatever you need, said Owen. But what can I do?

  Ask Cathy. She knows. Good-bye, Owen. I'm glad I got to meet you at last.

  Owen smiled down at the baby, who removed the tiny thumb from his mouth so he could smile back. And then the baby closed his dark, knowing eyes and went back to sleep, considering how to change the universe again. Owen looked at the alien with Cathy's face.

  "Well; that was… different. I like him. So; what is it I have to do? What can one man do, against something like the Recreated?"

  Cathy looked at him steadily. "This is the final part of your destiny, Owen. You have to distract the Recreated; hold their attention and keep them occupied, while the baby prepares for what he will do next. All the Recreated, not just the few facing Hazel and the others above this world. If the Recreated understand the baby is working against them, they might try to drive hm back into the depths of sleep again. They might even risk destroying him, and if the baby dies, all hope for Humanity's survival dies with him. It's all down to you, Owen."

  "Whatever it is, it must be really bad, or you wouldn't keep putting it off. Tell me. I can take it." Owen glared at Cathy, who stared sadly back at him. Owen sighed. "I'm really not going to like this, am I?"

  On the bridge of the Sunstrider, Hazel was living her dream. The ship's new weapons fired over and over again, but the numbers of the Recreated seemed endless. Her targets were so large she couldn't miss, but it was hard to do any real damage to anything so vast. She kept the Sunstrider weaving and dodging, eluding crippling energy blasts and mile-long tentacles with barbs the size of her ship, but the Recreated were everywhere now and she couldn't dodge them all. Her shields were going down, and the Sunstrider was taking more and more damage, some of it really bad.