Deathstalker Destiny

  “So,” he said heavily, “you picking up anything of interest yet?”

  “If I had, I’d have told you,” said Morrell. “Peculiar bloody place you’ve brought me to. This far out I shouldn’t be picking up anything, but ... I’m getting something ... right on the edge of my mind. Not so much thoughts ... more like the background murmur of the universe, with everyone talking at once. It makes no sense at all, and it’s really very irritating. You’ll have to get me a lot closer before I can be of any use, and I really wish I hadn’t just said that. I would like to make it very clear that I would rather gnaw my own leg off without anesthetic than pay a personal visit to that misbegotten toilet of a world below us. Something very bad’s going to happen down there.”

  “Think of it as a chance to stretch your legs,” said Silence easily. “You don’t want to miss out on all the fun, do you?”

  “If at all possible, yes. Am I to gather from the way you’re looking at me that I have already volunteered to join your landing party?”

  “Got it in one. You must have read my mind.”

  “Ho ho ho. Bloody officer humor. It’ll all end in tears, I know it.”

  Downbelow, in one of the Dauntless’s less crowded recreation areas, the man known as Carrion sat alone at a table, drinking lukewarm coffee at the end of an uninspiring meal. He could have eaten all his meals in his cabin, and would have preferred to, but Silence had ordered him to get out in public, so that the crew would have a chance to get used to him. So far, it didn’t seem to be working. People avoided talking to Carrion unless they absolutely had to, and then treated him with cold courtesy at best. Only their respect for their Captain kept them from open insults or even attempted violence. They looked at the man in traitor’s black, and saw only the Investigator who went native on the planet Unseeli, and fought beside the alien Ashrai against his own kind. Carrion; the sworn protector of Humanity who became a traitor and an outlaw because he loved an alien race more than his own honor and duty.

  And who was to say they were wrong.

  No one sat at his table with him. People ostentatiously chose to avoid even the tables nearest him. Some talked about him, just loudly enough to be sure he’d hear. Most wouldn’t even look at him. Truth be told, Carrion took comfort in his isolation. After Silence gave the order to scorch Unseeli from orbit, and wiped out every living creature on the planet, Carrion had lived there alone for many years, his only company the ghosts of the murdered Ashrai. Apart from one brief period a few years back, when Silence had returned to drag him unwillingly from his preferred isolation to help investigate the mystery of Base Thirteen, Carrion had remained aloof from all humans, and preferred it that way. He wouldn’t have known what to do with human companionship, even if it had been offered to him. He no longer considered himself human, and believed he had little left in common with those who did. He felt no need for company or conversation. He felt no need for anything much, anymore.

  Except perhaps for revenge on the rogue AIs of Shub, who had destroyed what little sanctuary and reason for living he’d had left.

  Anyone else would surely have gone mad, left alone on an alien world for so many years, but Carrion had found a kind of absolution in his solitude. The Ashrai had altered him, so that he could survive where no other human could, and Unseeli became his home. He walked for hours through the gleaming metallic forests, listening to the wind sing in their spiky branches, and sometimes hearing the song of the dead Ashrai too. The trees weren’t just trees, though he was never sure quite what else they might be, but there was a harmony to be found in their embrace, and he became a part of it. He was at peace, with no one to hate and no one to hate him. His wars were over.

  Or so he thought, till the great metal ships came from Shub, filling the skies with their horrid shapes, and tore the metal trees out of the ground until none remained anywhere on Unseeli. And who else was there left for Carrion to turn to, except his old friend and enemy, Captain John Silence? They’d struck a kind of truce, and now here Carrion was on a human ship again, an Investigator again. It was a harsh kind of joke, but then the universe was like that, in Carrion’s experience. The dead forests and the ghosts of the Ashrai cried out for vengeance, and if this was all he had left to give his life purpose, it was better than nothing.

  He missed Unseeli so much. It was the only place where he’d ever been happy.

  A man came up and sat down beside Carrion. He did so quickly, almost rudely, as though not wanting to give Carrion any time to object. He was young, barely out of his teens, with dark eyes and a set, determined mouth. Carrion recognized the face, and the newcomer saw that he did. He shifted his gangling frame uncertainly in his chair, and then nodded jerkily.

  “You do know me. I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”

  “Of course I remember,” said Carrion calmly. His power lance leaned against the table beside him, but he made no effort to reach for it. “You’re the one who tried to kill me when I first came aboard the Dauntless.”

  “Yes. That’s right. I’m Micah Barron. Ordinary crewman. My father was one of the men you killed in the war on Unseeli.”

  “I don’t remember him. There were so many ... I regret his death, if that makes any difference. Do you still wish to kill me?”

  “No,” said Barron, looking down at his hands clasped tightly together before him, on top of the table. The knuckles were white with strain. “The Captain vouches for you. Called you his friend. And the Captain ... is a good and honorable man. I’d die for the Captain. I’ve followed his career since I was a boy. It was a way of making contact with the father I barely knew. After he died ... I couldn’t wait to be old enough so I could join up too. I’ve tried to read up on the Unseeli war, but most of the files are still Restricted. Parliament keeps promising more open government, but I’ll believe that when I see it. So really, there are only two places I can go, to find out the truth about what really happened on Unseeli all those years ago. What the war was really about. And why my father had to die there. One is the Captain, the other is you. And after my previous behavior, there’s no way the Captain’s ever going to agree to speak to me again. Except maybe at my court-martial. So that just leaves you.”

  Carrion stirred uneasily. “It is not a time I care to remember. So many died, on both sides. Much of me died during the war. And I’ve already said I don’t remember your father.”

  “But you’re my only link to him. To the times that shaped and killed him. Tell me about the Ashrai. What were they like?”

  “Why did I side with them against Humanity?” Carrion looked out across the room with haunted eyes, not seeing what was there, lost in yesterday. “You have to remember; I was raised as an Investigator. Taken from my parents as a small child, raised to be apart from the Humanity I was trained to serve and protect. Taught the only good alien was a dead alien. But the Ashrai ... were wild and glorious and so free. Like every dream I’d ever had. Not beautiful, not by human standards. But they were pure, uncomplicated; savage and unrestrained. They flew through the air like mighty dragons, and when they sang ... they were creatures of awe and wonder. Angels of a different world. So much more than the grubby little humans who threatened to destroy them, just so the Empire could mine some metals from the forests.

  “Captain Silence was my friend then. I tried to explain, to make him understand. But he saw only his orders, and his duty. We were both so much younger then.”

  “But ... he offered the Ashrai reservations. Places they could live freely, away from the machines mining the forests.”

  Carrion looked sadly at Barron. “Is that the story they told, to excuse what they did? The Ashrai were linked to the forests. They would have withered and died, restricted to artificial borders, dying inch by inch as the trees died. Silence knew that. There was no offer of reservations. And so war became inevitable, and I knew which side I belonged on. I had sung the song of the Ashrai, seen the world anew through their eyes, and I could never go back. Back to being only, me
rely, human.”

  “Tell me about the war.”

  Carrion frowned. It wasn’t hard to call back the memories. They were never far from him. “The Ashrai were strong and fast and powerful. Their numbers filled the skies. The Empire had explosives and energy weapons. Ashrai blood fell like rain, and the human dead piled up till a man couldn’t see over them. Ashrai psistorms fought Empire battle wagons. There seemed no end to the dead, and the suffering. And I was right there in the middle of it, my hands dripping with the blood of those who had once been my fellow crewmen. Sometimes I knew their faces, more often not. I never thought the war would go on for so long. I thought eventually the Empire would get tired of losing men, and go away. I didn’t realize how badly they needed those metals.

  “I never thought they’d order Silence to scorch the planet. I never thought he’d do it. I can still hear the Ashrai screaming as the energy beams slammed down from orbit. There was nothing I could do to save them. I dug a deep hole and pulled it in after me, protected by my psionic powers. They seemed to go on screaming forever. Until finally the scorching stopped, and there was only silence. I dug my way out, to find myself the only inhabitant of an empty world. But the trees were still alive, in their way, and tied so closely to the Ashrai that not even death could fully separate them. Their ghosts remained, and their song. They forgave me. I never did.

  “Now the forests are gone, and only I remain to tie the Ashrai to the worlds of the living.”

  “They were your family,” said Barron, after a while. Carrion nodded, surprised at the insight. “Of course. The family I’d never known before. I was their adopted son, and I loved them with all my heart. Silence was my friend, but I never felt as close to him as I did to the Ashrai. I don’t think he ever really forgave me for that.”

  “Are you and he friends now?”

  Carrion smiled slightly for the first time. “We do our best.”

  And then Carrion sat up straight and gestured for Barron to wait a moment as new orders came in through his comm implant. He frowned, and rose abruptly to his feet. “I must leave you now. It seems I am to join the Captain’s landing party on Zero Zero.”

  Barron rose quickly to his feet. “Ask the Captain to take me too. I’m not afraid. I volunteer. I need to prove myself to the Captain. After ... what happened before.”

  “When you tried to kill me.”

  “Yes.”

  “No one knows what we’ll be facing on Zero Zero. No one knows if any one of us will return.”

  “I don’t care. I need to do this.”

  “Very well,” said Carrion. “Come with me to the briefing. I will vouch for you. But I can promise nothing where the Captain is concerned. He has always placed duty before friendship.”

  Barron looked at Carrion for a long moment. “Why are you doing this? I thought I’d have to get down on my knees and beg you for a second chance.”

  “Please don’t. I’d find that very embarrassing. As to why ... let’s just say I of all people understand the worth of a second chance.”

  The briefing lounge was a mess. Half the viewscreens weren’t working, and most of the computers were showing their naked guts to the air. The Dauntless had been undergoing extensive refitting and upgrading when Silence was suddenly called on to take his ship out again in a hurry, with a lot of the work still left undone. The technicians had been catching up as best they could during the voyage, but the briefing lounge had a priority number so low you couldn’t even see it except in a really good light. So of course the techs had chosen the one day when it was really needed to tear everything apart. When Carrion and Barron arrived, they found Silence shooing out half a dozen techs with firm words and one hand on his gun. They left, muttering, and Silence turned to greet Carrion.

  “Techs. Trying to boss me around, just because they’ve got a work chit. Where were they when my cof feemaker wasn’t working, and all I could get on my viewscreen was the damned porn channel?” And then he saw Barron, and his face and voice were instantly cold as ice. “What are you doing here, mister? Why aren’t you at your post?”

  “He’s with me,” Carrion said calmly. “We have reached ... an understanding. He wishes to join the landing party on Zero Zero.”

  Silence raised an eyebrow. “Really? He doesn’t look crazy.” His mood soured again almost immediately. “Give me one good reason why I should take him.”

  “Because I ask it,” said Carrion.

  “Ah, what the hell.” Silence shrugged, and led the way into the briefing lounge. “We can always use him as a human shield, if need be.”

  Once inside, Carrion nodded to the esper Morrell, who nodded back. Silence gestured at the waiting chairs, and the four of them arranged themselves before the one working viewscreen. Morrell was careful to put the Captain between himself and Carrion. Everyone else pretended not to notice. Silence looked at each of his team in turn.

  “I’m restricting this first landing party to an absolute minimum,” he said flatly. “Partly because of the risk, and partly because I want to avoid stirring anything up down there. We’ll have no way of knowing what we’re getting into until we’re well into it, and by then it’ll probably be far too late to call for help. Carrion and I are going because we have the most experience in dealing with strange and dangerous alien territory, and because both of us have ... more than normal abilities. Morrell is going because as ship’s esper he is our most experienced telepath. And Barron; you’re going to be our guinea pig. You get to test the temperature of any strange waters we may encounter before the rest of us dive in. Still want to go?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Barron steadily. “I want nothing more than to prove myself in your eyes again. To be the loyal crewman my father was.”

  Silence scowled. “I’m not looking for a hero, boy. I want a crewman who’ll keep his head, follow orders, and come back with useful information. Is that clear?”

  “Entirely clear, Captain.”

  Silence turned back to Carrion and Morrell, dividing his attention between them. “If we die, the Empire will have to decide whether to risk another landing party on Zero Zero, or send the Dauntless on to its primary mission in the Darkvoid. Our mission here is purely information gathering. We’re not here to solve the mysteries of Zero Zero, except where they coincide with our search for something that might help the Empire cope with the current nano plague. If we do turn up anything, and live to tell of it, further scientific teams will arrive later to dig out the details. That’s not our job.

  “Now; you three are about to view recorded material that has been Restricted for centuries. It carries the highest possible security rating, as does whatever information we may bring back from our little trip. You are not to discuss Zero Zero with anyone, no matter how high ranking, without checking with me first. Contravening this order may be punishable by death; and even I couldn’t save you then. Pay close attention to the recording, and save any questions till afterwards.”

  He paused a moment, to let the seriousness of his words sink in, and then activated the viewscreen. A series of security warnings scrolled up before them. Silence continued his introduction. “You’re about to see a recording of the last log entry from Zero Zero’s scientific Base, made by Base Commander Jorgensson. She downloaded it into a security buoy and blasted it into high orbit, just before everything went to hell.” He paused again, remembering another time like this. Then, it had been he and Investigator Frost, studying the last words from Unseeli’s Base Thirteen. But then, a lot of Silence’s career seemed to consist of cleaning up after other people’s messes. The recording began, and he decided he didn’t really have anything more worth saying anyway.

  The viewscreen filled with the head and shoulders of Base Commander Jorgensson. She was a pleasant enough looking woman in her early thirties, her generous mouth set in a grim line. She wore her long dark hair in a single functional braid, draped over her left shoulder. The camera pulled back to show her seated before a desk littered with scattered paper
s. A hand disrupter lay within easy reach. It looked large and clumsy, compared to the modern-day model. Somebody had taken a shot at the Commander. There was a large scorch mark, darkened with dried blood, on her left side, and there were beads of sweat on her forehead. In the background, alarm sirens blared over and over, drowned out now and again by deafening screams and howls and raised voices that didn’t sound entirely human. Jorgensson looked round sharply as something heavy slammed against the door from outside, but the security seals held. She turned back, staring out of the viewscreen with determination and desperate control.

  “Last report from Base Omega, Zero Zero. Security has been breached. The Base is contaminated. Nanotech has spread beyond the Base, and out into the planet’s ecosystem. God knows what it will do there. It’s all Marlowe’s fault. Damn him. He was in overall charge of the scientific team. Impeccable record. But while everyone else was working on the official experiments, he had his own, very unofficial, experiments going on. He had this dream of becoming superhuman, of having the nanos make him over into something far beyond human limitations. He exposed himself to his own specially coded nanos, and unfortunately they didn’t kill him. We have no idea of what he’s become. He disappeared from the Base several hours ago. From what we can understand of his notes, he coded the nanos to rework him from the DNA up, and programmed them for open-ended evolution. He then either released them into the Base, or they escaped. They were programmed to multiply endlessly, using any and all available matter for base material. People inside the Base have been ... changing. They don’t look like superhumans to me.