Deathstalker Honor (30 page)

“You will be our weapon of destruction,” said Jacob. “We will take you apart and rebuild you, and then infect you with preprogrammed nanotech. We will wipe your memory clean, and then send you back to Golgotha by teleport. As far as you’ll be concerned, you never got to Shub. None of this ever happened. But you will be our carrier, infecting everyone you come into contact with. Within days all of Golgotha will be infected. Within weeks it will have spread to every civilized world. Within months our nanotech will have spread throughout the entire Empire. And Humanity will have been so preoccupied with our distractions that they’ll never notice a thing.”

“Enough,” said Young Jack Random. “He’s worn the suit long enough for it to take all the readings necessary. We know all we need to know about the Wolfe’s body chemistry and tolerance levels. We can begin now.”

The tentacles holding Daniel grew razor-sharp edges and ripped the protective suit from him. Robot arms came down from above, slowly unfolding, ending in long scalpel blades. Daniel screamed.

“I’m not your daddy,” said the Ghost Warrior with his father’s face, and he and Young Jack Random turned and walked away as the scalpels dipped down toward Daniel Wolfe. Flesh opened, and blood spilled onto the steel floor. Daniel was still screaming as the scalpels opened him up, and other robot arms swung down to put things in him.

CHAPTER FOUR

The
Sunstrider II
dropped out of hyperspace a comfortably far distance away from Brahmin II, hidden behind every shield and cloaking device the small ship could generate. Brahmin II was currently occupied by the Hadenmen, and even the legendary hero Owen Deathstalker had enough sense to give Hadenmen plenty of room. He sat alone on the bridge of his ship, leaning tensely forward in his command chair, ready to give the order to get the hell out of Brahmin II’s space at a moment’s notice. But the moments slowly passed, and nothing of a sudden and extremely violent nature happened, and Owen finally relaxed a little and sank back into his chair, carefully studying the main viewscreen and sensor displays before him.

Brahmin II was currently surrounded by a dozen of the huge golden ships that had once waged war against the Empire, and had come uncomfortably close to winning. Under normal conditions a rich man’s toy like the yacht
Sunstrider II
wouldn’t have stood a snowball’s chance in hell, but the
Sunstrider II
was special. The bulk of the yacht had actually been rebuilt by the Hadenmen themselves, who hadn’t been able to resist adding their own little touches. Like the most powerful force screens ever seen on such a small craft. Owen still wasn’t entirely sure what powered them. In fact, there was a lot about the ship’s improved technology that he didn’t understand, but together with Ozymandius, he had established enough of a working knowledge to use the Hadenmen shields to fool Brahmin II’s Hadenmen sensors. At least theoretically.

So the
Sunstrider II
held its position, and Owen worried as he waited for some reaction from the golden ships, some sign they’d been spotted. Like massed disrupter fire. But all was quiet and remained quiet, and Owen let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He wouldn’t really have run, whatever the Hadenmen response. He couldn’t. He’d given Parliament his word that he’d do everything he could to save the colonists of Brahmin II from the occupying Hadenmen. Owen sighed quietly. Somedays a reputation as a hero could be a real pain in the ass.

“The Hadenmen ships seem to be entirely at their ease, Owen,” the AI Ozymandius murmured in his ear. “Weapon systems remain offline, and I’m detecting what appears to be only standard comm traffic. Though if pressed, I would have to admit that I cannot be one hundred percent sure of what they’re actually talking about. Their machine language is unbelievably complex.”

“Hardly surprising,” said Owen. “Hadenman tech always was cutting-edge. But I think if they were sounding any alarms, we’d have known about it by now. There’d be these large holes in our hull, fires everywhere, and this terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Just looking at that many golden ships in one place makes me feel like hiding under my chair. Run a full range of sensor scans on the planet below, Oz. But very carefully. Back off immediately if you even sniff any resistance to your scans.”

“I am not an amateur, Owen. Rest assured that at no time will they ever know we’re here. I shall move among them like a ghost in the night, peering over their electronic shoulders like a thing of mists and shadows.”

“You’ve been watching those ninja holodramas again. For an Artificial Intelligence, your viewing tastes have always tended toward the irredeemably vulgar.”

“So I like a little trash and sleaze now and again. Who doesn’t? It wouldn’t do you any harm to relax your precious standards once in a while.”

“Shut up and get on with it.”

“Oh, right away, my mighty lord and master. Your trouble is, you don’t appreciate me. I’ve a good mind to go sit in a corner and sulk.”

“Oz . . .”

“All right, all right. Lift that barge, tote that bale. I’ll get back to you when I’ve got something.”

Owen waited for some final cutting comment, but the AI seemed to have finished. Owen promised himself that one of these days he was going to find the programmer who’d given Oz his distinctive personality, and then rip out the man’s spleen and tap-dance on it.

Loud, heavy footsteps in the corridor outside announced Hazel’s imminent arrival. And from the sound of it, not in a particularly good mood.
So,
thought Owen.
No change there, then.
He put on his most pleasant face as the bridge door hissed open just in time to avoid Hazel crashing through it. She came to a halt right in front of Owen, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him.

“All right,” said Owen patiently. “What’s upset you this time? The food synthesizers still incapable of turning out a decent bottle of wine? Though I really don’t know why you keep tinkering with them. You know perfectly well you have no palate.”

“Don’t try to change the subject! You know very well why I’m upset. Why wasn’t I alerted the moment we arrived at Brahmin II?”

“Because you were fast asleep with a Do Not Disturb sign posted on the computer. I did try sending a wake-up call. Three times, in fact. The last time you smashed the comm unit, and I took that as a hint you weren’t really interested. Besides, there was nothing you could have done.”

Hazel scowled and threw herself into a chair opposite him. “God, I hate it when you go all smug. I was entitled to get my head down for a bit after everything we’ve been through recently.”

“Quite right. Now that you are rested, composed, and hopefully wide awake at last, perhaps you’d care for me to brief you?”

“Oh, go on. You live for moments like this, when you get to lecture people on things you know that they don’t. But keep it short and succinct, or I’ll throw things.”

“We are currently in the vicinity of the planet Brahmin II,” said Owen calmly. “Maintaining a safe distance from the planet and the twelve golden ships lying in orbit around it. Yes, twelve. Our shields seem to be working nicely. Brahmin II is occupied by our one-time allies, the newly revived Hadenmen. They have claimed the planet in the name of their Second Crusade of the Genetic Church. They bring the gift of transformation, from men into Hadenmen. Whether the men want it or not. Brahmin II has been renamed New Haden, and is now the new home and base of the augmented men.”

“I got all that at Parliament,” snapped Hazel. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Patience. I’m getting there. During the rebellion the Hadenmen took over a hundred and twenty thousand prisoners. These have since been transferred to New Haden to join the one and a half million colonists as captives. We have no idea of their current . . . condition. Parliament is demanding their release, but the Hadenmen didn’t even bother to reply after their initial statement. And since the Imperial Fleet currently consists of maybe a dozen starcruisers held together with baling wire and prayer, the Empire is helpless to do anything to save the colonists and prisoners from their fate.”

“So they sent us instead. Because we’re expendable.”

“Because we’re heroes. And because we have a better chance than most of actually achieving something. Besides, it’s my duty. I’m responsible for everything that’s happened here. I woke the augmented men from their Tomb. Brought them back into the worlds of men, to walk in all their nightmares once again.”

“We needed them,” said Hazel almost gently, the anger gone from her voice. “We couldn’t have won the rebellion without them.”

“Maybe. And maybe all we’ve done is exchange one evil for another. Before the rogue AIs escaped and built Shub, the Hadenmen were the official Enemies of Humanity, and with good reason. Hadenmen. The Slaughterers of Madraguda. The Butchers of Brahmin II. Defeated, thrown back, safely bottled up in their Tomb. Until I let them out.”

“You trusted them,” said Hazel. “They gave you their word. They called you Redeemer and swore an oath of allegiance to you. They betrayed you.”

“Of course they did. They know nothing of honor.” Owen’s head and shoulders bowed, as though weighed down by some great burden. “I never trusted them. But I needed them. So I let them out anyway.”

Hazel leaned forward, one hand lifting as though she might reach out to him. “Owen . . .”

He lifted his head sharply, and Hazel pulled back her hand. He didn’t notice. His face was calm and composed, and when he spoke his voice was all business. “You worked on Brahmin II once, before I met you, before the rebellion. What can you tell me about the place?”

“Not a lot,” said Hazel, taking her cue from Owen. If he wanted to change the subject, that was fine by her. “Dismal bloody place, all hard work and discipline and damn few comforts. Not really surprising after what the Hadenmen did to it the last time they were here. I thought you might ask, so I took the time to pull up the computer records of the first invasion. They’re pretty scrappy, mostly on-the-spot news coverage broadcast live, but it should give you some idea of how bad things were. You need to see this, Owen. I don’t want you going down there with thoughts of negotiating or making deals. Force is all these bastards have ever understood.”

She called up the records on the main viewscreen, and she and Owen sat side by side and watched history unfold before them. Golden ships filled the skies, shining brighter than the sun. Disrupter beams stabbed down, blowing apart buildings, starting fires that quickly raged out of control. The colonists had only a handful of attack ships for defense, and not one of them made it off the pads. The streets were choked with people, running and screaming, driven from what they’d thought were safe harbors by the unrelenting assault. Humanity routed, panicked, on the run.

And then came the ground troops. An army of Hadenmen hitting the streets, augmented, merciless warriors of the Genetic Church. They were tall and perfect, moving with inhuman grace, stalking the city streets unaffected by the heat and smoke, killing everything that moved that was not them. Steel angels flecked with blood, bearing the wrath of their cybernetic god. There was no pity in them and no hesitation, and they stepped calmly over the dead and the dying to get at those still running before them. They killed with guns and swords and their own augmented strength, ripping people apart, tearing their limbs away and smashing their heads against unyielding walls. The streets were full of screams, and blood ran thickly in the gutters, but none of that meant anything to the silent Hadenmen. They knew only logic and efficiency and the grim, unyielding destiny they brought to Brahmin II. The survivors would be transformed, and the dead harvested for raw material. Nothing would be wasted once they controlled the world. Men would become Hadenmen. Nothing else mattered.

The record tapes were often short and jerky, recorded by news cameramen on the run, trying to stay alive long enough to get their pictures out to the Empire. They were all dead now, but their testaments survived. And the scenes they had broadcast live had inspired a rage and a determination throughout the Empire to stop the Hadenmen and drive them back, whatever the cost. Brahmin II had been avenged. Eventually.

Owen frowned as the last of the tapes ran out and the viewscreen cleared. “I’dseen most of that before. When I was researching a paper, back in my historian days. But to see it all, added together . . . What happened to Brahmin II in the end?”

“When the Hadenmen knew they were losing the war, and they had no choice but to abandon Brahmin II, they paused just long enough to kill everyone they hadn’t transformed. Everyone they could find. When Imperial troops finally touched down, all they found were bodies piled in the streets and a handful of survivors: women and children, hiding, overlooked. From a colony of millions, only eighty-three survivors. Most of them quite mad from all they’d witnessed. And that’s what happened when the Hadenmen first came to Brahmin II.”

“Dear God, Hazel,” said Owen. “What have I done? What have I unleashed on the Empire?”

“We knew the dangers,” said Hazel. “There was always the chance they’d changed. That they’d learned something from their defeat. Everyone deserves a chance at atonement, even Hadenmen. Right?”

“We might have won the battle only to lose the war,” said Owen. “If we can’t stop the new Hadenmen Crusade right here.”

“Hold everything.
We
’re going to stop the new Crusade of the Genetic Church and a whole damn army of augmented men? Just you and me?”

“Sure,” said Owen. “We’re invincible heroes, remember? You saw the movie.”

“I have seen more realism in commercials by money-lenders,” said Hazel flatly, then sighed heavily. “All right, tell me your plan. Tell me you have a plan, at least.”

“I’ve been trying to come up with one all the way here,” Owen admitted. “So far without much success. I think our best bet may be a frontal approach. Just walk into the main city and demand to speak to whoever’s in charge. They claim to respect me as their Redeemer, since I opened their Tomb and brought them back to life. Maybe I can trade that against their need for this planet. Offer myself in place of the colonists. Or at least as many colonists as a Redeemer is worth.”