There then followed a long series of news stories about things that Finn had ordered done, or was planning to have done, most of which were supposed to be strictly secret. Some of them even surprised Diana. More stories followed, about all the things that were going wrong because Finn couldn't be bothered with everyday problems, so his people didn't care either. And even more stories about the foul-ups and general ineptitude of Finn's rule. Diana was just starting to enjoy herself when Nina's face and voice were suddenly swept from the screen by the news station's superior tech. A message appeared, saying Service Will Be Resumed, so Diana set off for the Rookery again.
It was good to know Douglas Campbell had finally got off his regal arse, and was back in action again. She'd been wondering whether she'd have to jump-start his motivation for him, and some of the ideas she'd come up with had been particularly unpleasant. But then, as Diana Vertue or Jenny Psycho, she'd never hesitated to do the necessary thing—no matter how distasteful, or who might get hurt, including herself. She had learned her lessons well, in the old Empire torture cells of Silo Nine, also known as Worm-boy Hell.
The rebellion needed a figurehead, and she'd always known it couldn't be her. She might be an official legend, but people needed a leader they could feel comfortable around, and preferably one who didn't have the word Psycho as part of her name. No one ever doubted her abilities as a fighter, but she'd be the first to admit she'd never been a people person. No, Douglas would do fine. With the right backup and guidance.
She strode confidently over the border and into the Rookery, and the Church Militant guards on duty didn't even try to stop her. She dropped her aversion meme to allow herself to be seen, and her power crackled on the air around her. The guards couldn't run away fast enough. Some were even crossing themselves as they ran. Quite a few innocent citizens also took to their heels, on both sides of the border. Diana Vertue smiled. It was good to know she could still make an impression. She stopped and looked around her.
She needed to make a different kind of impression now. Something dramatic, to announce the return of an old legend. It took her only a moment to reach out with her mind and find a thrall, a nondescript little man lurking inconspicuously in a doorway. Diana walked right up to him, froze his legs when he tried to run, and then blasted the possessing esper right out of the thrall's mind. The ELF mind fled screaming, and the no-longer-possessed man fell forward onto his knees, shaking and sobbing but purely himself again. He tried to babble his thanks in between the tears running down his cheeks, but Diana had no time for that. More thralls were coming. She could feel them all around her, their thoughts buzzing like angry wasps from a disturbed nest. There were lots and lots of them, heading right for her. Diana smiled. She was just in the mood for a good workout.
Possessed men and women came running at her from all directions, their faces twisted with the rage and passions of the possessing minds. Some had edged weapons, some had only their bare hands, but they all had murder on their ELF minds. Diana Vertue was their oldest enemy, and they would stop at nothing to kill her again. They pushed other people out of their way, striking out blindly, their gaze fixed on Diana as she stood before them, smiling calmly. She waited till they were almost upon her, and then summoned up her power. Psionic energies surged and crackled in the street around her, and her presence flowered like a rose made up of thorns. She was Diana Vertue, Jenny Psycho, the first human uber-esper. She had touched the minds of the AIs of Shub and brought them back to sanity. She fought the Recreated to a standstill. She had been betrayed and murdered, lived on in the oversoul, and now was back again, to deal with unfinished business. Let the thralls come. Let them all come. She was Diana Vertue, her time come round again, and she would show these miserable new ELFs what power really was.
Only she never got the chance. The thralls came charging down the street, and boiled out of the side alleys to surround her. They called her name in angry vicious voices, and boasted of the terrible things they were going to do to her. Diana Vertue gathered up her power, and then stopped, astonished, as a dozen young women in brightly colored silks appeared out of nowhere. They materialized in a protective circle around Diana, lightning crackling in their hands. They wore black roses in their hair, and tribal patterns painted on their faces. They struck the same impressive pose and glared haughtily at the stunned thralls. They gestured grandly, and a psi storm of exploding energies roared up and down the street, picking up thralls and throwing them away, tossing the helpless bodies around like rag dolls. The ELF minds screamed with rage and fear, but they could not stand against the power of the newcomers. The twelve women gestured almost contemptuously, and the possessing minds were thrust out of their stolen bodies, and sent howling off into the night.
The psi storm slowly abated, and the air grew settled again. Up and down the long street, over a hundred men and women sat shaking and crying and holding each other, free at last. The air had that clean, focused feeling that follows a thunderstorm. The twelve young women turned as one to face Diana Vertue. They were all grinning broadly and looking very pleased with themselves. Diana nodded slowly.
"All right, I'm officially impressed. Now who the hell are you?"
One of the women stepped forward. "I am Alessandra Duquesne, and we are the Psycho Sluts! Defenders of the right, avengers of the downtrodden, and arse-kickers supreme! We modeled ourselves on your legend, and swore to do your name honor by performing feats of great glory!" She stopped for a moment to get her breath, and Diana cut in quickly. She knew a long speech coming when she heard one.
"Yes. I've heard of you. Headstrong young troublemakers, too impulsive to follow the ways of the oversoul, and far too powerful for your own good. I thought you all left with New Hope, in the Icarus Working, and were on your way to Mistworld?"
The Psycho Sluts exchanged smug glances, and sniggered amongst themselves. "We never really got on with the oversoul," said Alessandra. "We were always far too individual, and proud of it, to settle comfortably into the mass-mind. We left the oversoul to come to the Rookery, just before New Hope headed off into orbit and exile. We wanted to stay and fight. There's always been a rogue esper presence here; minds too crooked or strange for the mass-mind. We fit in just fine. We earn our keep sniffing out thralls and blasting them free, but we've never seen so many in one place before! They really do want you dead, don't they?"
"What do you want with me?" Diana said bluntly.
The Psycho Sluts look at each other, caught off guard. "Well," said Alessandra, "we want to be your army! We always worshiped your memory, your take-no-prisoners, kill-them-all-and-let-God-sort-them-out policy towards the bad guys, and once we learned you were back in the flesh, we've been waiting for you to come here. We want to work with you, to spread terror and destruction in your name! The rebellion starts here! Well, actually, it's already started, and Douglas Campbell is leading it, but of course now that you're back—"
"No," Diana said immediately. "The Campbell is King. He leads. I came here to support him, and if you want to work with me, so will you."
The Psycho Sluts considered this, and then shrugged, pretty much in unison. Diana looked from one eager young face to another. Had she ever been this young, this gung ho? She sighed quietly. She wasn't at all sure she needed or wanted the support of a bunch of wannabe loose cannons, but they'd probably do less damage to the cause in the long run if she kept them where she could keep an eye on them. So it seemed she had her own personal army, whether she wanted one or not. She wondered fleetingly if Owen ever had to cope with problems like this. Still, she was glad she had something to bring to Douglas, apart from her own rather controversial legend.
"We know where there are more thralls!" said Alessandra, almost jumping up and down on the spot in entirely unsuppressed excitement. "Let's kick some more ELF butt before we go to see Douglas!"
"Yes," said Diana. "The more people we can free from ELF possession, the better."
"That too!" said Alessandra.
And so, Diana and her newfound friends the Psycho Sluts went, eventually, to meet with King Douglas and his people. He wasn't an easy man to get to see, these days, and Diana had to perform a few minor miracles and wonders to get her due attention, but once people realized she really was who she said she was, they couldn't pass her on fast enough. Just as well. No one stopped Diana Vertue when she was on a roll. Douglas, Stuart, and Nina met with her in their hotel room, which had somehow become the center of rebel operations, despite its cramped size. The Psycho Sluts stood guard outside the door, putting the wind up the regular guards. Everyone had heard of the Psycho Sluts, who, when they really got going, could cause more property damage than an earthquake. There was talk of getting up a collection to send them to help out another planet. Any other planet.
Diana studied the three dubious faces sitting on the opposite side of the table, and smiled easily. "Hi, I'm Diana Vertue, and you need my help."
"Yes," said Douglas. "When Jenny Psycho appears on the scene, people usually do."
"I haven't used that name in well over a century," said Diana, giving him one of her best scowls. "And if you're wise, you won't either. In case you didn't know it, this whole area is infested with thralls, reporting everything you do to the Emperor. You don't have strong enough esper minds here to detect them, let alone deal with them. So, you need me."
Douglas nodded slowly. "And those awful young ladies currently lurking outside on the landing?"
"They call themselves the Psycho Sluts, in honor of me. And no, I didn't get a say in the matter. They're rogue espers. They mean well."
"Psycho Sluts," said Nina. "Doesn't the name alone just inspire confidence?"
"All the legends who could have returned to back me up, and I had to get Jenny Psycho," Douglas said heavily. "No offense… Diana. Tell you what, I've got to address an important rally in about an hour, Why don't you and your people tag along, and if you spot any thralls in the crowd, show me what you can do. All right?"
The look on Diana's face made it clear it wasn't all right in any shape or form, but she nodded briefly. Even legends had to prove themselves. She waited down in the lobby with the Psycho Sluts, who amused themselves playing rat croquet with their psychokinesis, until it was time for Douglas and his people to go to the rally. The Psycho Sluts nodded cheerfully to Douglas, who did his best to avoid their eye. They worried him. They moved to form a protective circle around him as they walked through the streets. People gathered along the way to cheer and wave, and Douglas smiled and waved royally back to them. Stuart watched the crowds warily, one hand always near his gun. Nina filmed it all with her floating camera, for later broadcast. Diana ignored the surroundings, conserving her strength. She knew the real trouble would start at the rally, where the ELFs could do the most damage.
The rally was being held in an open square, and a large crowd had gathered there to listen to Douglas Campbell. The Psycho Sluts opened up a corridor through the crowd for Douglas to make his entrance, and he strode briskly through the crowd and leapt up onto the simple wooden stage. The crowd cheered loudly, and Douglas stood proudly before them, looking every inch the King in exile. He didn't even wait for the cheers to die away before getting stuck in. He spoke well and fluently, haranguing the crowd and raising their spirits, inciting them to rebellion. He could talk of the poverty and harshness of the Rookery because he'd known them himself, and he could talk of the Emperor's treachery and evil because he'd known them too. His speech might not have had the ease and polish that Anne Barclay's writing would have given it, but no one doubted that everything he said came from the heart. They had to fight back, he said, they had to rebel. Because things were only going to get worse, because already far too many people were suffering unjustly, because it was their duty and their right. When your back's to the wall, there's nowhere to go but forward, he said, and the crowd roared his name like a battle cry. Soon they were applauding his every statement as though it were an article of faith.
The Psycho Sluts stood arrayed before and around the stage, defying anyone to get past them, while Diana moved unobtrusively through the crowd, quietly noting the location of each and every thrall without letting them know they'd been spotted. They were gradually infiltrating the crowd, in ones and twos, smiling and applauding so as not to seem out of place, but someone else looked out through their cold eyes. When they thought there were enough of them, they began interrupting Douglas's speech with boos and jeers and catcalls. A few tried to shout Douglas down with insults and obscenities. The crowd around them shifted uneasily, angry but not yet ready to act themselves. They looked to Douglas to see what he would do. And Douglas just raised his voice, silenced the heckles with his rough and ready wit, and kept on going. He'd suffered worse in Parliament.
The thralls fell silent, linked minds, and lashed out with a combined telepathic onslaught, catching everyone by surprise. The ELFs weren't usually strong enough to generate their power through their thralls. The crowd staggered back and forth, clutching at their heads as a razorstorm of unbearable thoughts roared in their minds. Vile sights and sensations overpowered their senses, plunging them into Hell, and the ELFs enjoyed every moment of it. A group of thralls nearest the stage seized the opportunity to attack Douglas directly, under cover of the confusion. They lunged at him with drawn swords, but Diana had seen enough. She lashed out with her mind, blanketing the whole square, and the telepathic attack shut off abruptly as every single thrall collapsed as one. Diana turned the thralls nearest the stage upside down and shook them, just for the show of it, before blasting out the occupying minds. The crowd quickly returned to normal, and looked around for their savior. Douglas grinned down at Diana from the stage.
"All right, you're hired."
The Emperor Finn Durandal was not at all happy about being roused from his sleep at such an early hour of the morning, but since the only people who had this particular private comm number were the ELF leaders, he supposed he'd better answer it. Somehow he just knew it wasn't going to be good news. He sat slumped on the side of his bed, yawning and rubbing at his eyes, and finally activated the viewscreen built into his bedside table.
"This had better be important," he growled.
The scowling face on the screen was unknown to him, but he expected that. The ELF leaders never showed their true faces; they only ever spoke through their thralls. Even after all this time, Finn had no idea who the ELF leaders really were—one of the many things that had been bothering him lately. The possessed face on the screen looked distinctly upset, which pleased Finn somewhat. If he wasn't having a good time, no one else should either.
"We have been attacked," the ELF leader said flatly. "A psychic assault of incredible power. Many of our people are still recovering."
"Who the hell could do that to you?" said Finn.
"Diana Vertue has appeared in the Rookery."
Finn blinked a few times. "That's a good trick," he said finally. "Considering she's been dead for over a century."
"That doesn't mean anything where she's concerned. She was an avatar of the Mater Mundi, and even the uber-espers were scared of that force. Diana Vertue is back, and she has sided with the Campbell. You should have let us kill him long ago."
"Possibly," said Finn. "But I did so want him to suffer first. Very well, kill him, if it will make you happy."
"We can't. He is protected by Diana Vertue and her army of rogue espers! Already they have cost us hundreds of thralls. Our presence in the Rookery has been almost wiped out! You have to do something!"
"I am doing something," said Finn, just a little testily. "I never thought you and your thralls would be enough to stop Douglas from putting together a rebellion, once he came out of his sulk. He always did have a way with words, along with that damned charismatic personality of his. So I've been preparing my own little army, to fight specifically in the Rookery. I always knew I'd have to deal with the ungrateful little bastards someday. The Rookery has finally become too dangerous to be al
lowed to exist. I've been reluctant to sign their death warrant… partly because there was always the chance that I'd need their special talents again someday, and partly because I'm a sentimental old softy, but… Get your remaining people out of the Rookery. I'm going to send in my very best fanatics, to cleanse the place with fire and steel. I will tear down the buildings, and raise a mountain of skulls."
"You'd better," said the ELF.
The viewscreen went blank. Finn stuck out his tongue at it. He sighed, stood up, and rang for his servants to come in and dress him. No point in trying to get back to sleep now. Not when he had slaughter and devastation to plan. He ordered a series of calls to his generals in the Church Militant. If he didn't sleep, no one else got to sleep either.
Pure Humanity and the Church Militant had become one church and one philosophy, under the benevolent guidance of the very practical Joseph Wallace. The shock troops of the Empire now worshiped Finn directly, and natural selection among the faithful, bolstered by numerous purges, had produced an army of implacable zealots and fanatical soldiers. They would die for Finn, though of course they would much rather kill for him. He was the Chosen One, the Defender of Humanity, their day and their night. And they were his attack dogs.
There were thousands of them, armed to the teeth, their heads boiling with battle drugs and virulent propaganda. They were the righteous, and mercy and compassion and all such weaknesses were not in them. They gathered at the boundaries of the Rookery and then marched in by all the entryways at once, singing their awful hymns, and killing everyone they saw. They shot down men, women, and children, and cut down those who didn't run away fast enough. They set fires and planted explosives in buildings. Their lord had said that not one stone should remain standing upon another, and not one heathen soul should be left alive to see the coming day. They did not care, or falter. They were doing God's work, and it felt fine, so fine.