Deathstalker Honor (51 page)

“I’m Tarquil Vomak, MP for Graylake East in the Golgotha Parliament. I represent powerful and influential people. An insult to me is an insult to them.”

“How wonderfully time-saving,” said Valentine. “Be so good as to introduce your colleagues.”

Vomak sniffed, as though he felt the task was beneath him. “If I must. To my left is the lady Donna Silvestri. She speaks for Blue Block, who brought us together to meet with you. Opposite us are Matthew Tallon, ex-Planetary Controller for Loki, and the ex-Mayor, Terrence Jacks. And I’m sure you know our associate in the corner there, Kit SummerIsle.”

“Oh, yes,” said Valentine. “I know Kid Death.”

He let his gaze drift unhurriedly over the conspirators. The MP Vomak was a large, blocky man dressed in scarlet, possibly to match his cheeks. He was handsome enough in an undemanding way, the impression somewhat undermined by a sulky mouth. Donna Silvestri was vaguely known to him as one of the people who ran Clan Silvestri finances. She was round and broad and motherly, with faded blue eyes and a thick gray woollen cloak pulled about her, and possibly only Valentine would have noticed that her warm, maternal smile wasn’t in the least reflected in her eyes. If she spoke for Blue Block, she was where the power lay. Tallon and Jacks had the same stubborn, weatherbeaten look common to all who lived their lives in Loki’s tempestuous embrace. Tallon was the older and more solemn, Jacks the younger and more impatient. And finally, of course, there was Kit SummerIsle. Kid Death, the smiling killer. A slender figure in black and silver armor, with pale blond flyaway hair and icy blue eyes.

“Hello, Kit,” said Valentine. “Last I heard, you were a rebel hero and a pillar of the new establishment.”

“Hello, Valentine,” said the SummerIsle in his cold, implacable voice. “I never was one for philosophies. Civilized society got very boring. I’m a killer, so I go where the killing is. For the moment, Blue Block are providing me with necessary distractions.”

“I was sorry to hear about the loss of your friend David on Virimonde.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“All right, I wasn’t. I was just being polite, Kit. You really should try it sometime. What exactly is a notorious killer such as yourself doing here?”

“Blue Block said there would be work for me here. Treason and death have always been close bedfellows.”

“Of course,” said Valentine. He smiled at those seated around the table. “Perhaps someone here would be good enough to explain exactly what it is you wish me to pass on to Shub. What is it that brings us all together?”

“Necessity,” said Donna Silvestri. “Humanity has many enemies, of which the Recreated are just the latest. Our struggle with Shub draws away people and resources that could be better employed against more immediate threats. A temporary and strictly limited alliance with Shub is in everyone’s best interests. We don’t have to like each other to be able to work together against a common enemy. Afterward . . . perhaps we will have developed enough interests in common to make our previous antagonisms unnecessary.”

“Very logical,” said Valentine. “Why haven’t you presented this very sensible proposition to Parliament?”

“Because the short-sighted bastards virtually wet themselves if you just mention Shub!” snapped Vomak. “They can’t see past their current obsessions to the greater need. The new order is only concerned with remaking the Empire in their own image, and revenging the old hurts and prejudices. We won’t shrink from doing what needs to be done.”

“Indeed,” said Valentine. “And you’re asking Shub’s help to remove the rebels from power and replace them with your good selves, merely to help you better carry out these necessary actions?”

“They are wilfully blind to the dangers,” said Donna Silvestri. “They must therefore be pushed aside for the greater good of all. Blue Block has always taken the long view.”

“And what of the local connection?” said Valentine, turning to Tallon and Jacks. “Why are we meeting here, on Loki?”

“You people need a planetary base,” Tallon said brusquely. “A place to gather. Plan and build in secret. Somewhere far enough off the beaten track that you won’t be noticed. We’re offering. We’re the closest human planet to the Forbidden Sector, and Shub. That should make contact easier. And hopefully it’ll persuade Shub to put aside any plans about moving in and taking us over. The old Empire stationed starcruisers near here to protect us, but since Parliament took over, that’s been stopped. They say they haven’t enough ships. So we’ve been abandoned. An alliance with Shub is our only reasonable option.”

“Right,” said Jacks. “We have family here, jobs, land. We can’t just up and move somewhere safer. We paid for our land and holdings with blood and pain and the death of loved ones. Besides, running isn’t in our nature. We stand our ground and fight for what’s ours. Loki taught us that.”

“And sometimes you have to get your hands dirty,” said Tallon. “That’s why we’re willing to deal with you, Wolfe. We know your reputation. I’d as soon shoot you as look at you. But you’re probably the only one crazy enough to act as a go-between for us and Shub, so we’ll work with you.”

“How very uncalled for,” murmured Valentine. “Anyone would think I was some kind of monster.”

“You are,” said Kit SummerIsle.

“You should know,” said Valentine generously.

“I know lots of things,” said the SummerIsle, moving forward out of his corner for the first time. Everyone around the table stirred just a little uneasily. Kid Death stopped at the head of the table, his right hand resting on his belt near his sword. “I know, for example, that one of us here is a traitor.”

Valentine raised a painted eyebrow. “I thought we all were.”

“A traitor to this group and its intentions,” said the SummerIsle.

The four at the table looked at each other. None of them were obviously armed. “What makes you so sure?” said Tallon.

“I work with Blue Block,” said Kid Death. “They have access to all the best information. They know, for example, that Tarquil Vomak here has extensive gambling debts he couldn’t possibly pay off on an MP’s salary. So he sold his services to Golgotha security as a double agent. Isn’t that right, Vomak?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” said Vomak. “I don’t owe anyone a penny! It must be someone else in my family.” He rose to his feet, glaring at Donna Silvestri. “Tell your pet killer to back off! I’ll prove my credentials to Blue Block just as soon as we get back to Golgotha! Tell him he’s wrong!”

“Blue Block intelligence is never wrong,” said Donna Silvestri quite calmly. “We were only waiting for Valentine to arrive, so he could see how we deal with those who betray us.”

She nodded to Kid Death, and he drew his sword and cut off Vomak’s head, all in one blindingly swift movement. The two Loki men cried out as blood sprayed across them. The headless body stood upright for a horribly long moment, its hands clutching at nothing, blood fountaining from the stump of the neck, and then it fell to the ground and lay there twitching. Vomak’s wide-eyed head rolled slowly along the table, the mouth working silently, until it finally came to a halt before Donna Silvestri. She picked the head up by the hair and placed it on the ground by her chair, then smiled at Tallon and Jacks.

“I always like to bring home a little souvenir when I go traveling.”

The two Loki men produced handkerchiefs and began cleaning sprayed blood from their faces. No emotion showed in their faces, but their hands weren’t as steady as they might have been. Valentine bowed slightly to Donna Silvestri, in acknowledgment of the point made. Kid Death cleaned his blade with a rag and then sheathed the sword. His face was impassive save for a slight smile.

“Time for another election in Graylake East,” he said lightly.

Donna Silvestri smiled at Valentine Wolfe. “I hope we understand each other.”

“Oh, we do,” said Valentine. “I’m just glad I’m working with professionals for once.”

 

Julian Skye sat locked away in his bedroom again, staring at his reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite. He looked like shit. His body slumped in the oversized chair like a battered toy discarded by a child who played too rough. For once Julian wasn’t thinking about his once love, BB Chojiro. He had more immediate concerns.

He’d just been fired from his own holo show. Ever since the rebellion ended, and he discovered to his great surprise that he was still alive and on the winning side for once, he’d been making a good living starring as himself in a weekly holo series featuring his many exploits as a dashing, devil-may-care agent of the rebellion. Such shows were very popular right now, but his was the only one featuring the actual person concerned. His acting was frankly average, but the emphasis of the show had always been on stunts, explosions, and last-minute escapes, so he got by.

Only now they’d fired him. Replaced him with a look-alike actor, because Julian didn’t look like himself anymore. He’d been ill for some time, the continuing side effects of his incarceration in Lionstone’s interrogation cells. They came and went, so he learned to live with them and got on with his life. But just recently he’d been getting worse. A lot worse. He thought he’d hidden it by not giving in to it, and working just as hard as always, but apparently you can’t fool the camera.

The show’s executives had called him into their luxurious office, sat him down, made sure he had a large drink in his hand, and then showed him footage of himself as he used to be and as he was now. Julian was shocked by the difference. He’d become painfully thin, his face gaunt and hollowed, with dark shadows under the eyes. He looked twenty years older. The executives said they were very sorry to have to let him go, but makeup could only do so much. They assured him they’d be happy to take him back again once he was better, but everyone in the room knew that was a crock. He wasn’t going to get any better.

Those white-gowned bastards in the interrogation cells had killed him, after all. It just took a while for his death to catch up with him.

So he’d gone home. Home was the old Sky Family house. Not a Tower. Not even in the same neighborhood. The Skyes had never been more than a very minor Family. And soon they wouldn’t be a Family at all. Both of Julian’s parents were dead, and all his grandparents. Wars and politics and duels. His uncles and aunts, knowing a sinking ship when they were on one, married into greater Families, and took those Families’ names as their own. There were a few minor cousins, of various removes, but for all practical purposes, Auric and Julian had been the last generation of Skye. And they never had children.

Now Julian Skye was the last of his line, and when he died the name would die with him. He couldn’t really bring himself to care much. He’d never given a damn for being an aristocrat, not least because he was at the bottom of the pile, and looked down on by every other Clan. And he was an esper, which should have been impossible in the carefully controlled bloodlines and intermarriages of the Families. Espers weren’t people. They were property.

But somewhere along the line a Skye had gone to bed with someone they shouldn’t have, and the esper gene had gone skinny-dipping in the Skye gene pool and emerged in Julian. If his parents had found out, they would have had him quietly killed. But as soon as Julian’s powers started emerging, his older brother, Auric, was right there with him, calming his terror and helping him hide what he was from his Family and the world. No one ever knew. Till Auric died and Julian gave his life to the rebellion.

And now here he was, back home again, living alone in an empty great house with most of the rooms shut up and only a few old Family retainers for company. They stayed out of loyalty, out of memory for the way things had been, rather than the money. Which was just as well. Julian had made a great deal of money as a holo star, but tended to spend it as fast as it came in. If the bank hadn’t been so scared of him, they’d probably be sending him threatening letters by now. He would have worried how he was going to support himself in the future, if he’d thought he had a future.

He hurt pretty much all the time now. There were painkillers, of course, but the only ones strong enough to deal with the pain left him sleeping all day or stumbling dimly around like a zombie. He preferred to spend whatever time he had left in his right mind. He was pretty sure he was going to die this time.

He’d come close to dying on Haceldama, but Giles Deathstalker had used his powers to work a cure. Only like so many things with Giles, the appearance hadn’t been reality. The cure hadn’t lasted. And now Giles was dead, and the four remaining Maze survivors were all off-world somewhere on unknown missions. Even if he could have tracked them down, and brought himself to beg, he doubted very much they could get back to Golgotha in time to do him any good. And besides, he’d never been any good at begging. That was one of the things that had made him a rebel in the first place.

Julian looked back over his early rebel days with a rueful smile. He’d been so young, so sure, ready to take on any mission, any risk, as long as it was for the cause. In retrospect, he had to admit he did it mostly for the thrills and the action. For the kicks. But he did a lot of good along the way, and saved as many lives as he took. The new government had wanted to give him all kinds of medals, but he’d politely turned them down. He never really felt he’d earned them, because it had all been such a good time.

Until the Empire caught him, and put him in the interrogation cells, and gave him to the torturers. All because his one true love BB Chojiro betrayed him. She broke his heart, and they broke his spirit, and even though Finlay Campbell rescued him, he was never the same afterward.

He sighed and did his best to push the old, bitter thoughts aside. If he was going to die, he was determined to make the most of what was left of his life. Have some fun while he still could. Do all the things he’d meant to do but never had because the rebellion intervened. He’d enjoyed his time as a rebel, had his fair share of adventures and more, but it had quickly taken over his life. There was never time to relax, let his guard down, have a good time with a few friends. The rebellion had been his life.