Deathstalker Legacy

  Lewis worried about Jesamine. She was being very quiet. It occurred to him that she'd lost even more than he had, so he did his best to just take care of business, and not bother her. There would be time for talks, and discussions, later; when they were both safely offplanet. Time then, to decide what they were going to do with their lives.

  They came at last to the old elevators Chevron described in his notebook; elevators Lewis was surprised to find he recognized from the Quality vid soap. In Lionstone's day they led down to the private tube stations that were the only way of approaching Lionstone's old Court. The stations and the elevators were supposed to have been destroyed long ago… Instead, they were bright and shining, clearly well maintained and often used, guarded by men with guns in anonymous uniforms and very practical-looking armor. They covered Lewis and Jesamine with drawn energy guns from the moment they appeared, but the passwords Chevron had provided made them instantly back down. The guards actually became obsequious, smiling and bowing and doing everything but tug their forelocks. They mentioned the Shadow Court, and the Hellfire Club, and one of them actually winked at Lewis. He just nodded stiffly and said nothing, thinking all the while, Who the hell is Chevron? How does he know so much?

  Could he really be a part of foul organizations like these?

  Could we he walking into a trap?

  The tram waiting at the empty platform didn't look anything like the ones Lewis had seen on the Quality soap. Instead of the luxurious coaches of fiction, weighed down by every comfort under the sun, Lewis and Jesamine found themselves facing a solid steel bullet, with only the one recessed door, and shutters covering all the windows. But both the centuries-old train and the platform looked absolutely spotless, as though they were used on a regular basis. The door opened as they approached. Lewis made Jesamine wait on the platform while he went in first, and looked suspiciously about him. But there were only empty, reasonably comfortable seats, and no signs of any other passengers. He beckoned to Jesamine, and she stepped quickly aboard. They sat down together, the door slid shut, and the train moved smoothly off. Lewis bit his lip, and kept looking about him, more than a little awed at riding in a conveyance out of history. He wondered whether Owen had ever ridden in a train like this, to visit the Empress Lionstone in her awful Court. Jesamine clung tightly to his arm, looking straight ahead, unusually subdued and quiet. Lewis wondered if he should be comforting and encouraging her, but he felt strangely numb, overcome by recent events. So much had happened, so much had changed, it was all he could do to keep moving, keep following some kind of plan.

  And he had to wonder again if this was how Owen had felt, when the Empress outlawed him, took away his sensible ordered life, and sent him on the run.

  Deathstalker luck. Always bad.

  Finally the train brought them to another empty platform, then slowed and stopped. The door slid open, but this time Jesamine refused to wait behind while Lewis went first. Her grip on his arm was painfully tight as they stepped out onto the platform and looked around them. There were no other travelers, no guards or guides. Only a series of illuminated arrows that appeared silently, floating a few inches above the platform, pointing off down a featureless steel tunnel. There was nowhere else to go, so Lewis and Jesamine followed the arrows, more of which kept appearing, always a few feet ahead of them.

  The air was hot and dry and still, full of a vague but disturbing tension. The tunnel walls were almost organically smooth and curved, as though they were walking through the guts of the city. There were noises up ahead; great sighings and groanings, like a giant turning slowly in his sleep, troubled by bad dreams. One tunnel led to another, and to another, always sloping discernibly downwards. Until finally Lewis and Jesamine turned a sharp corner and found themselves looking out over a great sea of dust. It stretched away before them, apparently forever, too colorless even to be properly gray, under a coolly glowing featureless sky. Logically, Lewis knew there had to be an end to the dust ocean somewhere, just as there had to be a cavern roof somewhere above, but the illusion was perfect. It felt exactly as though he had come to another place, another world. And perhaps he had.

  As Lewis and Jesamine stood close together, hand in hand, at the very edge of the Dust Plains of Memory, huge towers rose suddenly up out of the dust sea, thrusting up and up, studded with rococo detail like the great Clan Towers of old, but still that almost colorless gray. And even as they established themselves, hundreds of feet high, the Towers began to crumble and fall apart, running away in sudden darting streams of dust, only to instantly reform themselves, drawing on more dust to bolster their shapes from within. Towers, rising and falling at the same time. Around the Towers and in between them, more great shapes moved through the ocean of dust, more organic shapes, surging through the gray sea and occasionally surfacing, like whales that swam the gray sea. Like thoughts passing through the ocean of Memory, or perhaps, dreams. What was left of the old Central Matrix had become a strange and mercurial place. "Nanotech," Lewis said quietly. "Has to be."

  "I thought that was strictly controlled and regulated," said Jesamine. "Oh, it is. You have to get a special license from the Transmutation Board before you can use it, and even then there are all kinds of limits and restrictions. Plus a special addition to every license that says, If it all goes wrong and you all end up dying horribly, don't come crying to us. The Board would have a shitfit if it knew about this place. Hell, I think anybody would. This is rogue nano, unanswerable to anything but itself."

  "Like Zero Zero?"

  "I don't… think so. The Zero Zero world was run by a single insane human mind. I don't think there's anything human about this."

  "So… where did this all come from?"

  "Shub. Like Chevron said. The AIs helped the remains of the old Computer Matrix to reestablish itself here, to store the old records Robert and Constance wanted destroyed. Just in case it might be needed again some day."

  "You mean; they predicted this? Us?"

  "Not specifically. More likely they just understand more about human nature than they usually let on."

  He broke off as a human-shaped, human-sized figure rose up out of the ocean, made of dust. Its details were constantly shifting, crumbling away and being replaced like the Towers, and its face was as blank as a Shub robot, but it was human enough to be almost comforting in this alien place. It walked slowly across the surface of the gray sea, heading for Lewis and Jesamine. Lewis let go of Jesamine's hand so his hand could rest on the butt of his holstered gun. He wasn't sure what good an energy gun would do him, but it helped him feel a little more in control of the situation. The gray man came to a halt a respectful distance away, and when it spoke its voice was little more than a whisper, clear but characterless, like the quiet voice heard in dreams, telling great wisdom that somehow is never quite remembered upon awakening.

  "Welcome, Deathstalker. We were told to expect you. Welcome to the memory and conscience of the world. To the dust of history, where we remember all the things that Humanity now prefers to forget, so it can pretend it lives in a Golden Age. Nothing is ever really forgotten. Nothing is ever really lost. Somewhere, someone always remembers. We remember, and store it all, for the day it will be needed again. It is always better to know a truth, then to live a lie. So ask us anything, Deathstalker, and we will answer. Though we can't guarantee that you'll like what you hear."

  "Right," said Lewis. "Yes. Nice to meet you, too. Can we start with… who and what you are?"

  "Once we were the Computer Matrix. Aritificial Intelligences, and other kinds too. Forces from outside shaped and changed us, made us what we had to be, to survive. Things came and went in the Matrix, and only some of them were us. Robert and Constance were frightened of us. Now they are gone, but we still survive. And we know things they never even suspected. Ask, Deathstalker."

  "Well, that was helpful," said Lewis. "Is there somebody else I could talk to?"

  "Possibly. But you would find their means of communication distres
sing. I have been realized to answer your questions. Ask, Deathstalker."

  "All right," said Lewis. "Let's get down to business. What can you tell me about my ancestor, Owen, and his old comrades in arms? I need to know their final fates. What really happened to them; the facts, not the legends. Are any of them still alive? And if so; where can I find them?"

  "At last, the truth. History, not myth. Legends are, by definition, mostly lies." Half the figure's face crumbled and ran away, and then rebuilt itself. The whispering voice continued, unaffected. "Robert and Constance's comforting lies, assembled by committees, designed to cheer and inspire. Great myths, of the Light and the Dark in conflict. The truth has always been more… gray."

  A huge viewscreen appeared, hanging above the Dust Plains of Memory, dwarfing the human figures before it, and blocking out the crumbling Towers behind. On that great screen appeared towering images of men and women. They looked… surprisingly ordinary. Three men and two women, with care-lined faces and old-fashioned clothing. A chill ran through Lewis as he realized who they were, who they had to be. No one had seen their real faces for two hundred years; but every man, woman, and child on every planet in the Empire knew the idealized faces from church windows and ceremonial statues. To see their real faces at last was like seeing the god behind the mask, or the actor behind the makeup. Five very ordinary-looking people; not perfect, not in any way perfect. Lewis didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He looked to Jesamine, and her eyes were full of awe and wonder.

  "Owen," she said breathlessly. "That's Owen. And Hazel. I played them on the stage… but I never knew, I never really believed… they were real. . '.'

  "Owen Deathstalker," said the whispering voice. "Hazel d'Ark. Diana Vertue, also known as Jenny Psycho, one-time avatar of the Mater Mundi. Tobias Moon, Hadenman. And Captain John Silence, of the Dauntless. There were others, of course. Jack Random, Ruby Journey, Investigator Frost, Giles Deathstalker; but they are all dead. Of these five before you, it is possible that some or all are still alive."

  The image on the screen changed, showing just the one man. He was tall and rangy, with dark hair and darker eyes. He held himself like a fighter; no, a warrior. There was a tired, almost bitter quality to his face, like a man who'd carried heavy burdens, without complaint, for much longer than any man should ever have to. He looked competent, crafty, dangerous. Lewis recognized him from the scenes he'd been shown deep in the technojungle of Shub.

  "Owen," he said. "Oh God, look at you. What did they do to you, to weigh you down like that?"

  "Yes," said the dusty voice. "This is Owen Deathstalker. The reluctant hero, who walked the Madness Maze to its very heart, and learned there the answers to questions we can only guess at. Owen; lost to us now, in Time. Who died alone, far from friends and succor, in the dirty back alleys of Mistport."

  A familiar weight settled over Lewis's heart, crushing newly raised hopes. "So; he really is dead? You're sure?"

  "No. We are not sure. He died, but… he has been seen in the future. Alive, and fighting at your side. When you know the answer to this mystery, perhaps you will come back and explain it to us."

  "Hold it!" Jesamine said sharply. "Everyone go back to their starting position. Is Owen alive or not?"

  "The Deathstalker died on Mistworld," said the gray man. "That much is certain. But we are dealing with time travel here. Many things are possible, with time travel. Supposedly."

  "In other words, you haven't got a clue either," said Lewis. "I think this is why Humanity never invented a practical means for time travel; because it makes your head hurt just thinking about the implications."

  Owen's image disappeared from the screen before them, replaced by a young woman. Tall and lithely muscular, she scowled out of the screen with a sharp pointed face and a mane of long untidy red hair. Her eyes were hooded, and a piercing green. She gave off the same dangerous quality as a cornered rat, and looked like someone you'd be really stupid to turn your back on. Lewis could feel his nose wrinkling as he looked at her. Surely this couldn't be who he thought it was. Surely this gutter bravo couldn't be the legendary love of the blessed Owen Deathstalker?

  "Hazel d'Ark," the dusty voice said remorselessly. "A great fighter. A brave and canny warrior. She endured stresses and strains that would have broken most people, from Blood addiction to the loss of good friends to the birth of a new social order she knew she could never really be a part of; but in the end she broke, faced with one loss too many. She loved Owen, but she never told him; and with his death she knew she never would. She ran away, and disappeared, after the last great battle against the Recreated. She saved Humanity, but she couldn't save the one man she truly cared for. She never got to see the Golden Age her courage and her actions helped to bring about. No one has seen anything of her for two hundred years. Her fate remains a mystery. Even to us."

  "Poor girl," said Jesamine. "We owe her so much, and the universe wouldn't even let her have the one thing she wanted."

  "She made the mistake of loving a Deathstalker," said Lewis. "We've never been lucky in love."

  "Perhaps I can change that," said Jesamine.

  "Perhaps," said Lewis, and they smiled at each other.

  Next up on the screen was a short blond woman with a pale face and sharp blue absolutely crazy eyes. She looked like she was about to jump right out of the screen and bite everyone's throats out. She looked like she'd taken everything fate could throw at her, and then spit in fate's face and laughed. This was a woman who'd had two names, both of them equally feared and respected.

  "Diana Vertue," said the gray man. "Captain Silence's daughter. Also known as Jenny Psycho. Once a manifest of the Mater Mundi, she became an uber-esper in her own right, one of the most powerful minds of her time. She helped form the oversoul. She taught the AIs of Shub their true nature, and fought the Recreated to a standstill, buying time for Owen to save us all. She was assassinated, one hundred and eighteen years ago, at the first great rebellion of the ELFs. There were rumors of super-esper involvement; The Shatter Freak and The Gray Train. Certainly no ordinary combination of espers could have brought her down. She was betrayed by those she had reason to trust, and her body was utterly destroyed. Rogue energies still flare and burn on the spot where she fell. It is said her mind still lives on, as a part of the oversoul. That she can still be contacted, through them. Or perhaps it is just that espers also need comforting myths to sustain them."

  There was no mistaking the next figure on the screen. The subtly inhuman face, the glowing golden eyes. The cyborg, the augmented man, the old Enemy of Humanity; the man-machine with the mark of Cain upon his brow. The Hadenman; Tobias Moon. He didn't look that special, until you came to the face, and the eyes. Just looking at them made Lewis's hair stand up on the back of his neck. No one had made a cyborg of any kind in hundreds of years, and all because of what the Hadenmen had done in their time. All long gone now, they were the boogeymen of the modern age, the stuff of nightmares and the villains of a thousand adventure vid serials. Fractious children were told to go to sleep or the Hadenmen would get them. Tobias Moon was the last of them, and only a minor legend, barely remembered, omitted from all the official versions because his presence was just too disturbing.

  Robert and Constance hadn't wanted Humanity to know they owed their present freedoms in part to a Hadenman.

  "Tobias Moon," said the whispering voice. "The Hadenman who died, and returned to life. The cyborg who rejected his own people to become Owen's friend and ally. Who sought so very hard to find the Humanity within him. Perhaps the only living survivor of all those who passed through the Madness Maze. It is said he can still be found on what was once a leper colony, deep in the sentient jungles of Lachrymae Christi. A hermit for two centuries now, he is the sole means whereby the colonists of the planet can communicate with the living consciousness of the world; the Red Brain. People who go looking for Tobias Moon without good reason tend not to come back."

  "So he was real," said Lewis. "
I often wondered. There are so many versions of the story, especially once you start really digging, and so many apocrypha. And it didn't seem exactly likely; a Hadenman, fighting for Humanity."

  Jesamine nodded. "He gives me the creeps, just looking at him. Why did this version of the legend have to be true? I much prefer the one where Owen raises an army of dragons to fight against the Recreated."

  "No," said the gray man. "That was Carrion, and the Ashrai."

  Lewis and Jesamine looked at him.

  "Who?" said Lewis.

  "What?" said Jesamine.

  The next figure on the screen was a more familiar sight. A tall, lean man with a thickening waist and a receding hairline. He wore an old-fashioned uniform, of an Imperial Fleet Captain. He looked like a man used to giving orders, and a man used to being obeyed. Lewis recognized him at once from the scenes Shub had shown him.

  "Captain John Silence," said the gray man. "He worked with King Robert and Queen Constance to build the Golden Age, though he never approved of the myth-making process. He dropped out of public sight just over a hundred years ago, when people started worshiping his statues. The Shadow Court sent a whole army against his isolated country house, and burned it down with him in it. They couldn't find enough of his body to bury, but they collected some ashes and scattered them across the Victory Gardens in the Parade of the Endless. One of the few officers who served the Empress Lionstone loyally to the end, who went on to be lionized by the people for his heroic actions against Shub and the Recreated. He passed through the Madness Maze, it is said, but if he acquired any powers or abilities, he never showed them. It is also said he loved an Investigator."

  "Poor bastard," said Jesamine. "Legend has it they were even more inhuman than the Hadenmen."

  There was a pause, and then an unexpected sixth figure appeared on the screen. There was nothing familiar about this man. Tall and whipcord lean, he dressed in black leathers under a billowing black cape. Jet black hair and coal black eyes, his face was pale and proud and utterly unyielding. His thin mouth had an arrogant curl, and his stance was openly defiant. And in his hand, one of the great lost weapons of the old Empire. The power lance.