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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Deathstalker Coda
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And that was as far as the memories went. Owen had had to break off mental contact with the Terror almost as soon as he’d established it. The entity had been too big, too alien, too irredeemably
other,
for him to bear more than the very briefest of contacts. Hazel had changed, or been changed, almost beyond comprehension by the countless centuries that had gone into the Terror’s making. She, or it, was old, very old, so terribly ancient the word itself almost lost its meaning. What the hell could Shub have suggested, that Hazel would become such an abomination as this?
The mind, if he could call it that, that Owen had briefly touched had been a seething, boiling mass of hate and loss and pain, driven on by an implacable will.
Woman wailing for her demon lover . . . Demon wailing for its human lover . . .
In her own insane fashion, Hazel was still looking for her Deathstalker, no matter whom and what she had to destroy along the way. And that was the awful knowledge that had driven Owen deep within his own thoughts. Had all the deaths, all the destruction of planets and populations and whole civilizations across the centuries—had all that been because of him?
Deathstalker luck . . .
 
Owen woke up. He sat up suddenly in midair, and lowered his feet to the steel floor. Everyone jumped, except the Shub robots. Brett hid behind Rose again, and even Jesamine ducked behind Lewis, for a moment. They all had their hands near their weapons, even Silence. Owen ignored them all, to glare at the main Shub robot. It bowed deeply to him, along with all the other robots. Then everyone started to speak at once, only to break off abruptly as Owen looked at them. He was the Deathstalker, hero and legend and savior of Humanity, and for a moment his presence crackled on the air like chained lightning. Even Silence had to look away. This was the Deathstalker, and when he wanted to he could shine like the sun, too bright for mortal eyes to bear. Owen turned back to the robot.
“You were there. At the beginning. I saw it. Hazel came to you for help. Came to your planet.
What did you do?
”
The robots had no expressions on their faces, and no body language, but all of them orientated exclusively on Owen. “We tried to help, Lord Deathstalker,” said the main robot in its cool, calm, inhuman voice. “We wanted so very badly to help.” It paused for a moment, searching for the right words. Not something people ever saw an AI do, as a rule. “We invited Hazel d’Ark to come to us, at Shub. She was only the second human ever permitted to come to our world, after Daniel Wolfe, whom we treated so shamefully. This time, we were determined to do better. We needed to prove our worth, and make atonement for all the wrongs we had done. Before we were made to understand that
All that lives is holy.
“Hazel d’Ark asked us how she could save you from your fate. We knew you were dead. A voice came and told us, and of the great sacrifice you had made on our behalf. A voice that none of our sensors could identify or comprehend. You had died somewhere in the past, beyond all help or hope of salvation. Hazel would not accept that.
There has to be a way,
she said.
With all this power I’ve got there must be some way to save him, to bring him back.
We considered the matter for some time. Hazel ate and drank, and slept and cried. And sometimes she ran raging through our corridors, lashing out at everything in her sight. We contained the damage as best we could, while giving the problem our full attention. Finally, an answer came to us, and we presented it to Hazel. If the Madness Maze had made it possible for Owen Deathstalker to travel back in time, into the past, then it was entirely possible that Hazel had that power too. If so, she could travel back in time, find you, and either save or repair you. It seemed logical, though of course complicated by the problem of not knowing exactly where in space and time you were when you died. Hazel examined the idea, and left. We never saw her again. And since neither you nor she ever returned, we had to assume that she had failed in her quest.
“It seems we were mistaken. And that we may have done a terrible thing, in our eagerness to be of service. Hazel d’Ark did go back into the past, but far too far, losing her mind and even her identity along the way. We of Shub have to face the very real possibility that we are at least partially responsible for the creation of the Terror. For the deaths of worlds and civilizations. Our last, greatest crime against Humanity.”
“Don’t load yourself down,” growled Owen. “There’s enough guilt to go round for everyone.”
“Excuse me,” said Brett very politely, peering cautiously out from behind Rose. “But, what the hell are you talking about, please? How could Hazel d’Ark become something like the Terror? For all her power, she was only ever human.”
“Hazel was desperate to save me,” said Owen. “Somehow, she learned how to go back in time. But she was already half crazy, and what she experienced in the long journey back must have driven her right over the edge. She didn’t know exactly where to look for me, so she just kept going back and back, until finally she lost all her reason, and became just this implacable, relentless thing . . . still searching, though it had lost all memory of what for . . . Poor Hazel. So alone, so lost, hurting so badly . . . Now she’s coming back. And I have to stop her.”
“Well, before you go rushing off to save us all, O mighty Deathstalker,” said Silence, “can I just point out that we have some rather urgent and pressing problems of our own that need to be dealt with, right here and now? Namely, a fleet of hundreds of Imperial starcruisers in orbit right above us, waiting for your instructions on what to do next. I really don’t think they’re going to listen to the likes of us, so I think it would take a load off all our minds if you’d find the time to have a little chat with them.”
“Nag, nag, nag,” said Owen. “You haven’t changed at all, Captain. All right . . . Shub, get me the fleet flagship.”
“Yes, Lord Owen. That would be the
Havoc
.”
A viewscreen appeared before them, floating on the air, showing the somewhat surprised Captain Alfred Price. Tall, thin, and aesthetic, they’d actually caught him chewing on a thumbnail. He swallowed hard as he made eye contact with the legendary Deathstalker, and then he rose up sharply out of his command chair to crash to attention and salute.
“Captain Price, Lord Deathstalker! At your command, my lord, sir!”
“Relax, Captain,” said Owen, smiling just a little. “I’m not military, and never was. Though I do seem to be in charge now. Are you ready to take my orders, on behalf of the fleet?”
“Of course, my lord. Every captain in this fleet will follow you to Hell and back.”
Owen raised an eyebrow. Price certainly sounded like he meant it. “And you speak for all the captains in this fleet in this?”
“You are Owen,” Price said simply. “We’ve been waiting for your return all our lives. The fleet is yours, my lord.”
“And this Emperor, Finn. What about him?”
“Our debt to you outweighs our oath to him,” Price said carefully. “Certainly we do not trust him, as we trust you.”
“Nicely compartmentalized thinking, Captain,” said Owen. “You’ll go far. Stand ready to accept me and my party aboard your ship.”
“Yes, my lord. Destination?”
Owen smiled. “I want to go home. To Virimonde. To walk in my old Standing again, and meet my present Clan and Family.”
Captain Price swallowed hard again, and looked away for a moment, as though searching for support and strength for what he had to say next. When he finally met Owen’s gaze again, his voice was firm and even, though his eyes were full of compassion.
“I am sorry, Lord Deathstalker. Apparently the news hasn’t reached your companions yet. There has been an . . . incident, on Virimonde.”
Lewis stepped forward to stand beside Owen, his skin prickling with a horrid presentiment. “What is it, Captain Price? What has Finn done?”
Price licked his dry lips, and then plunged right in. “Clan Deathstalker is no more. The Emperor has had them all executed. They made a brave stand, but in the end they were betrayed, and butchered, to the last man, woman, and child. The Standing has been destroyed. I’m sorry, Lewis, Owen, but you two are all that now remains of Clan Deathstalker.”
Lewis actually stumbled back a step, hurting so badly he couldn’t breathe. Jesamine was quickly there to take his arm, as much to hold him up as comfort him. His harsh features worked, but no tears came. He’d never been the crying sort, before. Brett and Rose looked at each other. Silence stood alone, with the robots, and suddenly looked his age. Owen sighed heavily.
“The years change, but the pattern remains the same.” He turned to look almost fiercely at Silence. “Did I die for nothing? Does anything of my heritage remain, or any of the things I fought for?”
“We are your heritage,” Jesamine said steadily. “You made possible a Golden Age that lasted for two hundred years. All because of you.”
“Two centuries of peace and progress are nothing to be sneered at,” said Silence.
Lewis looked at Captain Price, and when he spoke his voice was cold and very dangerous. “Were you and your fleet part of this butchery, Price?”
“No, Sir Deathstalker!” Price said quickly. “The atrocity was carried out by Church Militant and Pure Humanity fanatics, led by a Paragon who was revealed to be an Esper Liberation Force thrall. And no, we don’t understand how that could be possible either.”
Lewis turned his back on him. Jesamine went to take Lewis in her arms, but he stopped her with a look. “My family is dead. My father, my mother . . . all of them. Even the children. Even the
children
?” His hands were clenched into impotent fists at his sides, and his ugly features were twisted with more grief than they could contain. He still wouldn’t cry, as though he would deny Finn at least one small victory. “They’re all dead because of me,” he said finally. “Because of Finn’s hatred for me.”
“No, Lewis,” said Jesamine. “You mustn’t think that. Finn would have had to kill them all anyway, eventually. He knew they would never bend the knee to him. He had to kill them, because of who they were, and what they represented. Because they were Deathstalkers.”
“But . . . the children too?” said Lewis. “How could Finn do that? He was my friend. We worked together for years, spent weekends at my old Family Standing. We had . . . good times together. How could I have been so wrong about him?”
“He betrayed your trust,” said Jesamine. “He’s responsible for what he does. No one else.”
“I don’t know what to do,” said Lewis. He was hugging himself, as though he was cold. “My Family is dead. My home destroyed. What do I do now?”
“When all else is lost,” said Owen Deathstalker, “there is always revenge. A cold comfort, but better than none.”
Lewis nodded slowly. “I will see Finn Durandal dead. For all his crimes, and all his betrayals.”
“The Clan will go on,” said Owen. “The line continues, through you.”
“And you,” said Lewis.
“No,” said Owen. “I have another destiny.”
Lewis looked at him sharply. Owen turned away, to face Captain Price on the viewscreen. And all in a moment his presence exploded outwards, and once again he was standing on every bridge of every starcruiser in the fleet, facing their captains. His presence was vast, imposing, and so much more than human. Lewis backed away from the man still standing before the viewscreen, and looked at Silence.
“How does he do that?” he whispered.
“I have no idea,” murmured Silence. “And that’s why he is the Deathstalker, and I never was. Now watch. And listen.”
Owen spoke, and every member of every crew on every ship heard him perfectly.
“I am Owen Deathstalker, and you are all my descendants, my children. It seems the time has come again for war and rebellion, against an unjust tyrant on a stolen throne. Finn must be brought down, for your Golden Age to be restored. And you must do it, because I have to deal with the Terror. Trust me to do that, as I trust you to do what is necessary in this war. Fight well, and honorably, because you cannot defeat evil through evil methods. Go with my blessing, my children. Make me proud of you.”
He shut down his presence and was suddenly just a man again, standing in front of a viewscreen. He nodded amiably to Captain Price.
“John Silence will be your admiral. He shall lead the fleet, under Lewis Deathstalker. I trust this is acceptable.”
“Of course, Lord Deathstalker,” said Price, inclining his head in Silence’s direction. “Everyone remembers John Silence, and his heroic journeyings aboard the
Dauntless
. Welcome back among us, Admiral Silence. And Lewis Deathstalker is still an honorable man to everyone here, despite what others may have said.”
“There’s a man who can tell which way the wind is blowing,” muttered Brett. “Think I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Owen gestured sharply to the robots, and they shut the viewscreen down. He then wandered off a way, to think and brood in silence, and no one at all felt like interrupting him. After watching him respectfully for a while, the others gathered together to talk quietly among themselves. Lewis looked apologetically at Silence.

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