In the end, it was the stomach cramps that saved him. The nagging familiar pains were still sharp enough to penetrate even the frenzy raging inside his head, and it was the one thing he could cling to, the one thing he knew was his, and his alone. He concentrated on the pain, hugging it jealously to him, using it as a kernel he could rebuild himself around, slowly pushing out everything that wasn't him. One by one he forced the voices back outside his head, where they belonged, and slowly built new mental lids to close over his staring eyes. Until finally he came back to himself, a man alone again, shuddering and sweating and gasping for breath, lying limp as a discarded rag on Finn's harsh gray carpet.
Brett Random; telepath.
"You bastards," he said thickly, tiredly. "You bloody, bloody bastards."
"Welcome back, Brett," Finn said happily. "I was almost sure you would survive. Somehow I just knew someone with your survival instincts would find a way to pull through. So what are you; telepath, precog, polter? Or is it too early to tell yet? No matter. Oh Brett, we're going to have such fun, working out what you can do to help me with your new abilities. You'll thank me, when you've had time to think about it. Rose; help Brett up and into a chair. Yes, I know he's rather sweaty and unpleasant at the moment, but we all have to make sacrifices for the cause. Besides; it's not that different from his usual state, really."
Rose leaned over Brett and took him by the shoulder with one hand, and then both of them froze where they were as their minds slammed together, triggered by the proximity, each of them transfixed in the glaring light of a naked soul. For a moment that had something of forever in it, their thoughts and personalities meshed and mingled, held in the iron grip of Brett's newfound talent. For Brett it was like looking into the sun, blinded by the overwhelming glare of a remorseless, single-minded will, but beyond that he could sense something else; a need like an endless hunger, a despairing need for something Rose couldn't even name. In anyone else, it would have been a need for love, friendship, companions; but such concepts were alien to Rose. She only knew… that she needed.
For Rose, it was like watching a flower unfold, showing new and endless possibilities. She'd never known that the world could be so large, that people could have such potential. Much of what she saw in Brett's mind was alien and confusing to her, like discovering new colors in the rainbow. Brett could feel her digging through his thoughts, trying to make sense of what she found there, and was frightened by a will so much more focused and icy cold than his own. He concentrated, clumsily manipulating his new abilities, and finally closed a mental door between them. And as suddenly as that they fell back into their own heads, two separate souls again. It had lasted only a moment, but in that endless time many things had changed, forever. Brett looked up at Rose, and she looked curiously down at him.
"That was… different," she said finally. "I never felt anything like that before. For a while there, you were as real to me as I was."
"Telepathy!" Finn said happily, clapping his hands together. "What did it feel like?"
"Shut up," said Rose, not looking around, and Finn did. Rose was still staring into Brett's eyes, as though trying to reestablish the connection between them. "There's so much inside you, Brett. Your mind… it's so busy, so cluttered, with thoughts and… things. Feelings…"
"And you're so alone," said Brett. "How can you stand to be so alone?"
"I thought everyone was like that," said Rose. "I didn't know… I had no idea… I'm going to have to think about this."
She hauled him roughly but efficiently to his feet, and dropped him into his chair again. Her face was cold as ever, her mouth as cruel, but Brett thought there was something new in her eyes. He looked away. He couldn't cope with anything but his own problems for the moment. He tugged a grubby handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the cold sweat from his face. His hands were still shaking. Rose sat down in her chair again, her gaze calm but far away. Finn studied them both, with a sardonic raised eyebrow.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear the two of you were bonding. You nave no idea how much the very idea revolts me."
Lewis Deathstalker stood on the edge of the main landing pad of Logres's biggest starport, and pulled his heavy cloak about him. There was a cold wind blowing. Normally, no one except essential staff was allowed out onto the pads, but Lewis had never let such petty technicalities stop him before when he was a Paragon, and certainly not now that he was the Champion. Back in the main terminal a few officious little jobsworths had tried to argue the point with him, only to go all uncertain and tongue-tied when Lewis gave them his best thoughtful stare. He was very proud of that stare. He'd put a lot of thought and effort into getting it just right, so that it suggested all kinds of imminent violence and unpleasantness, if not actual mayhem, and generally appalling possibilities. In the past, some villains had actually dropped their weapons and begged to be arrested, rather than have Lewis look at them in that particular thoughtful way.
It was a bright sunny afternoon, despite the chill, with a pale blue sky and not a cloud anywhere. The main landing pad was huge, bigger than some city blocks, and the docked starcruisers rose up before Lewis like so many steel mountains, the tops of their shimmering steel hulls lost to sight in the glare of the sun. The Hammer, The Highlander and The Hector were all in port, waiting for new crews or new equipment or just a little downtime between missions. There were dozens of other, smaller craft scattered across the pads stretching away before him, but Lewis only had eyes for the newly arrived Highlander, fresh in from Xanadu. Douglas's long-promised replacement as Paragon for Logres had finally arrived; the famous, or perhaps more properly infamous, Emma Steel.
Even among the inflated reputations of the Paragons, Emma Steel had almost more reputation than one person could comfortably bear. She'd been born and raised on Mistworld, which explained a lot. Mistworld, once the only rebel planet in Lionstone's Empire, was still a wild and woolly and largely uncivilized place, mostly because its inhabitants preferred it that way. They had no intention of going soft, just in case this whole Golden Age thing turned out to be nothing more than a passing fad. They kept themselves to themselves, discouraged tourists, tax collectors, and anyone else showing too much interest in their affairs. Emma was the first Paragon Mistworld had ever got around to producing, and she took her position and her responsibilties very seriously.
She was a tenacious tracker, specializing in pursuing the criminals who eluded everyone else. No one could hide from Emma Steel. They could change their names, their faces, and their whole damned bodies, purge their presence from every known computer, and jump from planet to planet in a freight ship, inside a packing crate marked MACHINE PARTS, and still Emma would sniff them out. She always brought her prey back, even if she had to do it in several small refrigerated containers.
It helped that she wasn't impressed by anybody and was always ready to browbeat, intimidate, and if necessary slap around any poor fool who thought his position gave him the authority to get in her way. Emma worked from the position that everyone was guilty of something, and it was a sad fact that she was right more often than she was wrong. She was the only Paragon not to attend Douglas's Coronation, because she'd been in the middle of a case, and Emma Steel didn't break off from the chase for anyone or anything. With anyone else that would have been treason, but this was Emma Steel, so everyone just shrugged and made allowances. Everyone made allowances for Emma Steel. Even King Douglas. He understood it was nothing personal. It was just Emma being Emma.
Either way, news of her new position on Logres had finally caught up with her, and she made arrangements for her latest catch to be sent home in irons, and hitched a ride on the closest ship. She'd sent word she'd be arriving today. Lewis checked the watchface embedded in his wrist again, and shrugged. It was well known that while Emma had many sterling qualities, punctuality wasn't one of them. Lewis sighed, folded his arms across his chest, and shifted his stance slightly. The black leather armor creaked loudly, and Lewis shook
his head exasperatedly. Douglas's personal tailors had had three goes at refitting the armor, and it still didn't feel comfortable. Lewis had taken to wearing his old Paragon's purple cloak over it, and that at least made him feel a little less conspicuous.
Anne had proved entirely unsympathetic when he raised the matter with her. It's important you look the part, she kept saying. That armor is designed to send a message. It's a style statement. Trust me, you look every inch a Champion. In return, Lewis has said something short and cutting, in which the words pratt and pimp featured strongly, and Anne had thrown her coffee cup at him, and then giggled till she got hiccups.
A figure came striding suddenly out of the shadows under The Highlander's hull, heading right for him, and Lewis straightened up to his full height. He wanted to make a good first impression. Of course he was the Champion, and she was just another Paragon, but still… this was Emma Steel. Voted scariest person in the Empire for the third year running. One magazine editor had offered a million credits for her to do a nude photo-shoot. Emma sent the editor a severed head in a box. Lewis studied Emma openly as she strode quickly towards him, her long legs eating up the distance between them. The official holos on her tribute site didn't do her justice. In person, Emma Steel radiated personality like a blast furnace.
She was tall and willowy and almost impossibly graceful in her every movement. Her skin was a dark coffee color, and she wore her flat black hair pulled back and tied in a tight bun on the back of her head. Striking rather than pretty, she was still utterly breathtaking. She carried her Paragon's armor well, and her purple cloak flapped about her like the wings of a bird of prey. Her long-fingered hands never moved far from the sword and gun on her hips.
She marched right up to Lewis, looked him up and down, nodded curtly and stuck out a hand for him to shake. When he took it, she gave his hand a brief knuckle-crushing shake, and then pulled him forward into a fierce embrace that drove half the breath out of him. She kissed him loudly on each cheek, rapped him on the armored chest with a knuckle, nodded at the sound it made, and then stepped back to nod approvingly at Lewis.
"Deathstalker!" she said loudly, in a deep thrilling contralto. "Good to meet you at last. Love the armor. Congratulations on your new post. You earned it. Would have liked to be there for the Coronation, but I had to chase that Hellfire creep over half of Xanadu before I finally ran him down. I did send a card, and a present."
"Ah yes," said Lewis. "The flower that eats insects. And small rodents. Douglas was… very impressed. Welcome to Logres, Emma. Your reputation precedes you."
"Don't believe a word of it," Emma said briskly. "No law-abiding citizen has anything to fear from me. It's just that I never seem to meet any." She looked around her, and suddenly she was grinning widely. It transformed her face, making her look a lot younger than her early thirties, and not nearly so daunting. "God, I love this place! Biggest starport in the Empire. I grew up around Mistworld's starport; my great grandfather used to run it. Romantic places, starports. Always people coming and going, dropping in from fabulous far-off places. Families parting and meeting… and more crimes and scams and generally dirty dealing than any other place you can name. Mind you; Customs and Immigration here are crap. No one's challenged me at all yet."
"They're probably still trying to find someone daft enough to try," said Lewis. "Do you have anything to declare?"
"Only my magnificence," Emma said, and then laughed loudly. "No media here today? There's usually half a dozen news crews waiting to greet me whenever I step off a starship."
"The King wants to keep your presence here under wraps, until he's had a chance to bring you up to speed," said Lewis. "Once the local bad guys find out you've arrived, they'll either go to ground or head for the hills. Besides; the situation here is… more complicated than you might think."
Emma shrugged easily. "Isn't it always? I never get the simple assignments. So; tell me all about the legendary Finn Durandal. I'm a fan of long standing. Studied all his major cases, and watched all five of the documentaries on him. It was because of him that I determined to become a Paragon. Mistworld's first. I'm really looking forward to working with him. You were his partner for years; what's he really like?"
"Ah," said Lewis. "That's part of the problem. Finn rather thought he was going to be chosen as Champion. In fact, he set his heart on it. He took it very hard when Douglas named me instead. As a result, Finn… isn't as focused on his work as he once was. In fact, no one's seen much of him at all since the Coronation."
Emma gave Lewis a hard look. "Are you tell me that he's sulking? That the legendary Finn Durandal is off sitting in a corner somewhere, pouting?"
"Well, basically; yes. I'm sure he'll get over it, in time. But until he does, you're going to have to take up the slack. And since Douglas is the King and I'm the Champion, that just leaves you to be Logres's Paragon. I hope you know how to hit the ground running."
"Wonderful," said Emma. She pursed her large mouth and spat on the ground, uncomfortably close to Lewis's boot. She glared at him as though it was all his fault, and then sniffed loudly, and shrugged. "I should have known it was too good to be true. I did wonder why they chose a wild card like me. Still; it's not the first time I've been dropped in the deep end with lead weights on my boots. Don't you worry, Deathstalker; I can hold my end up." She grinned suddenly, and once again looked almost girlish. "I can't wait to get stuck in. This is a major step up on the career ladder for me; defender of Humanity's homeworld. Back on Mistworld, I dreamed of coming here… A chance to show what I can really do! Face some real challenges at last. Screw the Durandal. Give me a year here, and people will have forgotten all about him. I'm going to take Logres by the scruff of the neck and shake it till all the filth drops off; you see if I don't."
Lewis had to smile. She reminded him irresistably of a younger, less cynical Lewis Deathstalker, from when he first came to Logres; so confident, so full of himself and all the great things he was going to do. His smile slowly faded as he considered how far he'd come from that naive and optimistic young man. He'd achieved a great many things in his time, done a good job… but at the end of the day the world still went as the world went. The Shadow Court was still out there somewhere, and the Hellfire Club. And the poisonous lies of Pure Humanity seemed to reach more receptive ears all the time… Lewis shrugged mentally. Maybe Emma Steel was just what they all needed; someone to shake them out of their complacency.
And then Lewis all but jumped out of his skin as Emma roared with a parade ground voice, right in his ear; "You! I see you! Stop that right now!"
She charged right past Lewis, racing across the landing pad, her long legs driving her at incredible speed, her sword and her gun already in her hands. Lewis chased after her, glaring about him for some sign of the enemy, doing his best not to fall too far behind. Surely the ELFs couldn't have struck again already, so soon after their debacle at the Arenas? Or maybe it was another Neuman suicide bomber? Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, as far as he could see, but he trusted Emma's instincts. He drew his sword and gun too, and pounded after her as she headed for the baggage area.
And that was where she finally skidded to a halt, gun aimed squarely at two terrified luggage handlers, who couldn't get their hands in the air fast enough. Lewis crashed to a halt beside her, and had to stop for a moment to get his breath back before he could speak. Emma wasn't even breathing hard.
"You're both under arrest!" she said crisply. "Hands on top of your heads, and don't even think about running or I'll blow your kneecaps out. Did you really think you could get away with this, right under my nose?"
"Get away with what?" said Lewis, just a little plaintively. "What's the problem? I thought we were after terrorists. They're luggage handlers. All right, there have been times when I've felt like shooting them too, when my trunk's ended up on a whole different planet, with all my spare clothes in it, but…"
"They're running a scam," said Emma. "And a pretty obvious one, at
that. They run the cases through that portable scanner there, detect the good stuff, and mark the cases with a secret sign that only shows up under ultraviolet. Someone at the other end will intercept the marked cases before they even reach the carousel inside the terminal, and then they'll all split the proceeds later. I told you, I grew up around a starport. There isn't a con or a dodge that I can't spot."
"And that's it? All this, for a couple of con men?" Lewis shook his head, and put away his gun. "Jesus, I nearly had a coronary. I haven't run that fast since that bomb disposal guy said oh shit and threw himself out the window. And you wouldn't believe where this leather's chafing me. Emma; this is peacekeeper work. Not something a Paragon needs to get involved with. Anything else you see; just contact port security, and let them handle it."
"Be your age, Deathstalker," said Emma. "Port security are part of the scam. That's how it works."
She rounded up her quivering charges and marched them at gunpoint to the starport brig, where she made sure they were officially charged and securely locked up before leaving, with a stern warning to everyone present that she would be back later to check on how the investigation was going. Lewis trailed after her, feeling distinctly superfluous.
"You really don't need to get this personally involved with low-level crime like that," he said later, after they'd picked up her very minimal luggage and left the terminal. "You're Logres's Paragon now. Which means you don't have to sweat over the small stuff. Or you'll have no time or energy left to deal with the real trouble when it breaks. You have to take a larger view."