Deathstalker Honor (20 page)

“You wouldn’t be the first person to underestimate Saint Bea,” said Stephanie. “And most of those who did are dead, or wish they were.”

“She can’t live forever,” said Brendan. “And if she was to die suddenly, unexpectedly, the new Church would be thrown into utter chaos. Just the kind of situation that Blue Block has always best profited from. And the remnants of the old order, the Brotherhood of Steel, is still out there, though officially suppressed, just waiting for a chance to take control of the Church again. You’d be surprised how many of today’s movers and shakers bow down to the Brotherhood in private.”

“And Blue Block controls the Brotherhood of Steel,” said BB Chojiro. “Saint Bea may have won the populace’s heart for the moment, but they’re a fickle breed. They can always change their mind. Or have it changed for them.”

“And then Blue Block will run the Church as well as Parliament,” said Brendan.

“You don’t own Parliament yet,” said Stephanie. “In fact, they show distressing signs of developing a will of their own.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” said BB calmly. “Now, why don’t the two of you find something not too incriminating to talk about, while I take care of some personal business?”

She left them standing together, trading mutually suspicious looks, and made her way gracefully through the crowd to stand before Julian Skye. He saw her coming, and made as though to walk away, but in the end he stood his ground and waited for her. She stopped just out of arm’s reach and smiled up at him. Julian nodded curtly, his face impassive.

“Hello, Julian,” said BB in her sweetest voice. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you. You’re looking good.”

This last was a polite lie, and both of them knew it. Julian had never really recovered from the horrid injuries he suffered in the interrogation cells. The late Giles Deathstalker had worked something of a miracle cure in him on the nightmare world of Haceldama, but it didn’t last. Julian Skye hung on to what remained of his health through grim determination, and it showed.

“Hello, BB,” he said finally. “You look beautiful as always. Betrayed anyone interesting recently?”

BB shook her head. “You never did understand me, Julian. I had no choice. The moment you told me you were a rebel, my feelings for you were swept aside and my conditioning took over. I couldn’t even warn you they were coming. I cried afterward.”

“Yes,” said Julian. “And then you came to me in the interrogation cells to talk me into betraying my friends and my colleagues. You said I was scum, the lowest of the low. And then you walked away and left me to the torturers. And all the time I was screaming, I thought of you.”

“I had to say what I did. Others were listening.”

“What do you want, BB?” said Julian harshly.

“I wanted . . . to see if we could still talk to each other. I have missed you so much, Julian. Blue Block is my life and my purpose, but nothing ever touched my heart like you. A part of me died the day they took you away, and I want it back. I want things to be the way they used to be again.”

“You must think I’m mad! I know about Blue Block now. I know about you. You’d do anything, say anything, to serve your precious higher cause. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. You mean nothing to me anymore, BB. I cut you out of my heart, one inch at a time. It hurt like hell, but I felt so much better once you were gone.”

“Don’t. Please, don’t.” She reached out to him with both hands, but he shrank back rather than touch her. She dropped her hands, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Oh, Julian. My feelings for you were genuine then, though I couldn’t give in to them. Now things have changed. I’ve changed. Because of my position, Blue Block has given me more and more freedom and room for personal initiative. At last I’m free to follow where my heart leads. People can change; you must believe that. We could be together again, Julian. Like we used to be, only better. There are no secrets between us anymore.”

“There will always be secrets, as long as you still represent Blue Block.” Julian shook his head jerkily, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Go away, BB. Whatever game you’re playing, I don’t want any part of it. What we had, what I thought we had, was never more than a dream. And I’ve woken up now. It took me a long time to get over you, BB. I won’t put myself through that again. Just . . . go. Please.”

“I’ll go,” said BB. “I’ll walk away and never see you again. Just tell me you don’t love me anymore.”

“BB . . .”

“Tell me that and I’ll go. Even though I love you. Because I’d rather die than see you hurt again. Just say . . . you don’t love me.”

“I don’t love you.”

“Liar,” said BB Chojiro softly.

“Oh, God, of course I love you, BB. I’ll always love you.”

She reached up and placed her fingertips on his mouth. “You don’t have to say anymore, my darling. I know how difficult that must have been for you. But trust me, things will be different this time. I’m free now of many of my old constraints. Still, I think we’ve said enough for now. We have time . . . all the time we need. Goodbye, my love. For now.”

And she turned and walked away, back to Brendan and Stephanie and her advisers. Julian watched her go, and didn’t know what to say or think. She’d given every indication of being honest and genuine, but none of that mattered, because she was Blue Block. All he knew for sure was that his heart was beating again the way it used to, when he still knew what happiness was, when his love had been something more than just a road to damnation. Julian Skye watched her go, and cursed himself for a fool for still believing in happy endings.

 

Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn made the rounds of the Chamber, pressing the flesh with one and all. It seemed everyone wanted his approval, now he was head of Imperial News. He did on-the-spot interviews with practically everyone, and hoped to sort some gold out of the endless practiced sound bites in the editing suite later. Politicians were born with the ability to say much while committing themselves to as little as possible, but Toby had experience in getting them to confirm more than they meant, and say more than they realized. Until they saw it on the news later. Toby stayed much later than he meant to, simply because he was enjoying himself so much. This was real news gathering, bracing old friends and enemies with the same friendly smile while digging out the truth despite everything they could throw in his path.

Eventually the Members decided they were ready, struck their most impressive poses, and gave the order for the door to the Chamber to be flung open. Everyone in the Chamber then rushed forward into the House, trampling the slower moving underfoot. The two ranks of seats on either side of the open floor were packed with MPs, till they were practically sitting on each other’s laps. Previously, it had been a miracle if a quarter of the seats had been filled at any one time, but these days the Members were all desperate to be seen on the news. Most had upcoming elections to consider, by the new universal electorate, and needed to be at least seen to be doing something.

The floor of the House quickly filled with people, and the air was full of flying cameras trying to elbow each other aside for the best angles. The MPs sat carefully upright in their seats, looking down on everyone else. Their PR people had warned them on the dangers of slouching. It made them look undignified on camera. The MPs had also hired researchers to dig out old Parliamentary customs they could use, from the days when Parliament still meant something, but they hadn’t quite got the hang of most of them yet. For example, nowadays all MPs proudly wore the traditional black and scarlet gowns and powdered white periwigs, but so far no one had had the heart to point out that the gowns and wigs came from Parliaments centuries apart.

Their latest big idea had been to appoint an official Speaker of the House, someone who owed no allegiance to any particular party or cause, and could therefore keep order with utter impartiality. A good idea in principle. Unfortunately, they’d chosen Elias Gutman for the job. Supposedly because he’d been on so many sides at various times that he could truthfully be said to represent everyone’s interests. In fact, Gutman had been elected to the post because he bribed most of the MPs and intimidated the rest, a practice that had always done well for him in the past.

It was said that Elias Gutman had a hand in every dirty deal in the Empire, though people were careful how loudly they said it. Gutman’s Family had banished him from Golgotha in his disreputable youth, and sent him money regularly as long as he promised not to come home, an arrangement that suited both parties. Gutman had used that money and his new freedom to become the first-class villain he’d always known he had inside him. He had even helped fund the rebellion, just to hedge his bets.

But so many of his Family had died fighting on both sides on Golgotha that Elias found himself made the most senior member of his Family by default, and was invited to come home at last. He wasted no time in barging into the political process, sensing that this was where the real power and wealth would be in the new Empire. And now Elias Gutman was Speaker, with power to decide who was and who was not allowed to be heard in Parliament. Many MPs had been heard to ask how they got themselves in that position. But they were careful to say it very quietly.

Even more unfortunately for all concerned, Parliament had made this important appointment while Owen Deathstalker was off chasing Valentine Wolfe and his cronies. Everyone was waiting to see what his reaction was going to be, torn between a desire for the best seat and a very real need to keep their heads well down, or at the very least out of the range of fire. Owen didn’t disappoint them. The moment the Chamber doors opened, he surged furiously forward into the House, Hazel striding cheerfully along beside him. Owen ignored the plaintive cries of the stewards as they tried to steer him to the assigned public area, and headed straight for Gutman, sitting on a raised platform between the two ranks of seats.

Two armed guards moved forward to block his way. Owen punched out one, kicked the other in the groin, and just kept going. Hazel followed on behind, stepping gracefully over the groaning bodies on the floor. Gutman stirred just a little uneasily on his seat. He had arranged other, hidden protections, but suddenly face to face with the Deathstalker, he wasn’t quite as sure of their efficacy as he had been. Owen came to a halt directly beneath Gutman’s raised seat and glared up at him.

“All right, what mentally deficient bunch of dickless wonders elected this crook as Speaker? I turn my back on you for five minutes, and you throw open the doors and invite the fox into the henhouse. Why didn’t you hand over the crown jewels to him as well while you were at it? In fact, I think I’ll check them right after I leave here, and if just one piece is missing, someone is going to suffer, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. Why
Gutman,
of all people? If there’s any vile trade in the Empire that he hasn’t profited from, it’s only because he hasn’t found out about it yet. The man deals in death and suffering; God knows how much blood he has on his hands.”

“And how many have died at yours, sir Deathstalker?” said Gutman smoothly. “We’ve all had to do distressing things to get where we are today. But this is, after all, supposed to be a new order. A chance for everyone to remake themselves anew. To build new lives and careers, entirely separate from what their old history might have been. Or don’t you believe in second chances? In redemption?”

“Not where you’re concerned,” said Owen flatly. “Grendels will turn vegetarian before you reform. I know you, Gutman.”

“The fact remains,” Elias Gutman said easily, “that I have been freely elected to my position as Speaker of the House by these good men and women present. Or are you defying their authority?”

“Don’t try to twist this!” said Owen, his voice rising angrily in spite of himself. “I didn’t spend years on the run as an outlaw, and wade through blood and slaughter in the streets of Golgotha, just to see power handed over to such as you! I don’t know how you managed to escape the war trials, Gutman, but you won’t escape me. Now, come down off that seat or I’ll come up and get you.”

“You can’t touch me. I have the protection of Parliament. The people you yourself helped place in power. Have you no faith in your own creation?”

“Not when they screw up this badly.”

“So you place yourself above their authority? Just like the aristocrats you threw down because you said they abused their power. Can anyone spot the irony here? You’re not a hero anymore, Deathstalker, making up your own rules as you go along. You’re just another citizen of the Empire, subject to the authority of the people, as expressed through Parliament.”

“To hell with that! I never needed a Parliament to tell me what was right and wrong! Now, get down here or I’ll kill you where you sit!”

“You defy Parliament’s will!”

“To hell with them! I’ll tear down this whole House around your ears if that’s what it takes!”

Armed guards came running from all sides as the MPs broke into an excited babble. With anyone else, what they’d heard might just have been empty threats, but this was Owen Deathstalker. He might just do it. Gutman gripped the arms of his chair tightly, but kept his face calm. He’d manipulated the Deathstalker into losing his temper and undermining his heroic image. Now all he had to do was live through it.

“Typical Deathstalker threat,” he said steadily, making sure his voice was heard over the rising hubbub. “To hell with how many die as long as he gets his way. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. It was after all his ancestor, the first Deathstalker, who activated the Darkvoid Device and murdered untold billions of innocents.”

Hazel clung grimly to Owen’s arm so he couldn’t draw his disrupter. The surrounding guards looked on anxiously. Hazel grabbed Owen by the chin with one hand and forced his face around to meet hers. “Don’t, Owen. You’d have to kill a lot of innocent men before you got to Gutman.”