Deathstalker (55 page)

Hazel moved over to the controls, and everyone drew a gun or a blade, according to their nature. They looked tired and tense, but prepared. Owen wished he’d had some armor and heavy-duty weaponry put on board at some point, but he’d never seen the need in a pleasure yacht. Assuming he got out of this mess alive and reasonably intact, it was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. The universe was not a friendly place. He hefted the disrupter in his hand and looked back at the others.

“Everybody ready? Right. Remember, no rushing outside the moment the hatch opens. We’re going to take this slow and steady and very carefully, until we know the lay of the land.”

“Is he always like this?” Ruby said to Hazel.

“Mostly,” said Hazel. “He used to be a lord. I think he inherited the pompousness along with the big ears.”

Owen decided he hadn’t heard that. “Hazel, open the hatch.”

There was a worryingly long grinding noise, and then the hatch slid open. Bright crimson light spilled into the airlock, along with the heavy humid air of the jungle. It smelled of rotting meat. And then everything in the world tried to get through the hatch at once. There were huge ferocious shapes with teeth and claws and glaring eyes, fighting each other for the chance to get in. There were smaller things that seemed to be all teeth and claws pouring over the lower edge of the airlock in waves. There were flying things and lashing tendrils of vegetation with vicious spines and barbs, and it all wanted to get in. There were screams and roars and ululating howls, echoing deafeningly in the confined space of the airlock.

A long tentacled thing surged toward Owen, and he shot it automatically. The energy blast hit the beast at point-blank range, and its head exploded, showering him with foul-smelling blood. Something with huge clawed hands and a mouth bigger than Owen’s head hauled the tentacled body out of the way and hurled itself at Owen. He met it with his sword, and more blood spurted as he cut deep into the leathery flesh.

“Shut the hatch!” he screamed. “Shut the bloody hatch!”

Everyone was firing their guns at once, but the creatures kept coming, slavering in their eagerness to get at new prey. The airlock was full of awful life, and swords swung viciously
Hazel fought to get back to the control panels. A long tentacle whipped through the air, snatched up Moon, and hauled him bodily out the hatch and into the surging chaos outside.

“Don’t shut the hatch!” yelled Owen. “They’ve got Moon! Somebody help him!”

“Somebody else help him,” snapped Random, cutting doggedly at a slimy creature that was apparently too stupid to know it should have been dead by now. “I’ve got my own problems.”

Hazel managed to hit the control button with her elbow, and the hatch began to close. The heavy steel weight moved remorselessly forward, cutting slowly but firmly through everything that got in its way. Gradually the hatchway grew smaller, and the larger creatures were forced outside. The hatch finally slammed shut, and the remaining smaller creatures were trapped in the airlock. Owen and Random fought back to back, cutting down the vicious alien life as it struggled to get at them. Random fought well, Owen thought, for an old man. Hazel and Ruby were also fighting back-to-back, and making a bloody mess of anything that came within reach. The horrors fell, one after the other, large and small, until finally it was over. Owen slowly lowered his sword and leaned against the bulkhead wall, panting for breath. It seemed very quiet in the airlock now, though the air was thick with the stench of blood and death. There were bodies everywhere, and blood dripped from every surface. Behind Owen, Random was coughing up something large and juicy. Hazel and Ruby were leaning on each other for support and glaring about them, swords still at the ready.

“Moon,” Owen said harshly. “He’s still out there.”

“Then he’s dead,” said Hazel. “And so would we be, if we were stupid enough to go out after him.”

“Not necessarily,” said Ruby. “He is a Hadenman, after all.”

They all looked up sharply as the sound of energy guns firing came dimly to them from somewhere close at hand.

“Could the Empire have found us already?” said Hazel.

“It’s not the Empire,” said Owen. “Oz said we were alone down here. I think those are our guns;
Sunstrider’s
guns. That’s why we can hear them, even with the hatch closed.”

“But who’s firing them?” said Random. “Your computer
is supposed to be shut down. Have you been keeping something from us, Deathstalker?”

“Oz, is that you?” Owen waited, but there was no reply. The guns suddenly stopped firing, and it was very quiet in the airlock. “I’m going to look outside,” said Owen.

“Is this wise?” said Hazel. “After what happened the last time I opened the hatch?”

“The guns should have cleared some space around the ship,” said Owen.

“And if they haven’t?”

“I don’t give a damn. Moon’s out there. A Deathstalker doesn’t abandon his people.”

He hit the hatch controls before anyone could raise further objections, and they all turned their guns on the opening hatch. Crimson light spilled into the airlock again, along with the charnel stench of the jungle.
Even the light’s the color of blood
, thought Owen.
What kind of place have I brought us to?

Everyone braced themselves against another invasion of bloodthirsty creatures, but all was still and quiet. The hatch ground to a halt at its furthest extension, and Owen peered wearily out. There were dead aliens everywhere, torn and tattered and piled up around the ship, but no signs of life or movement anywhere. The surrounding jungle was a mass of conflicting vibrant colors, predominately scarlet. The sky was mostly hidden by a thick canopy of branches overhead. There were huge towering trees and gushing vegetable shapes everywhere, all spines and barbs and overripe flowers. And then something moved among the heaps of the dead, and Owen snapped his gun to bear before he recognized who it was. It was Moon, standing at the side of the ship, hip deep in carnage, covered with alien blood and looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Owen jumped down from the airlock and made his way toward the Hadenman, clambering awkwardly over the heaps of bodies. The creatures ranged in size from gossamer insects the size of his hand to huge forms easily twenty feet long. None of them looked in very good shape. The ship’s energy guns had torn them literally limb from limb. At such close range they never stood a chance, but Owen couldn’t bring himself to feel any sympathy. The smell was appalling, and he did his best to breathe through his mouth. He reached the Hadenman, and Moon nodded to him calmly.

“About time I had a decent workout. I think I’m going to like it here.”

“All right,” said Owen. “What the hell happened out here?”

“I tapped into the ship’s systems through my commlink, overrode the computers and took control of the fire systems. Then I had them blast everything that moved, while I sheltered among the bodies. Quite simple, really.”

Owen looked at him. “That shouldn’t have been possible. Even with Oz off-line, the security codes should have kept you out of the systems.”

“I overrode them,” said Moon. “It wasn’t difficult. I’m a Hadenman.”

“I didn’t know you could do things like that.”

“There are lots of things about me you don’t know.”

Owen didn’t have any answer to that, so he turned and gestured for the others to come and join him. They made slow progress through the heaps of the dead, keeping a constant wary eye on the surrounding jungle. Owen didn’t blame them. He could feel the pressure of uncounted unseen eyes following his every move. The ship’s guns had taught the creatures caution, but there was no telling how long that would last.

“What did you say this hellhole was called?” said Hazel.

“Shandrakor,” Owen said absently, still looking around him. “This is where my ancestor fled when the Empire turned on him and sent the Shadow Men after him.”

“Who were they?” said Random, still trying to get his breath back after clambering over the bodies.

“No one knows anymore,” said Owen. “People apparently didn’t talk about them much back then, if they knew what was good for them. The Shadow Men were the Emperor’s hounds: unstoppable, quite deadly and never once defeated. Basically, pretty nasty and proud of it. They tracked my ancestor here, to the very edge of the Empire, and then nothing more was heard of them or him. No one ever came back from Shandrakor, no matter how large a force the Emperor sent. Eventually he turned his face away from the planet, and Shandrakor was not spoken of by anyone. Its coordinates became lost, its nature forgotten, and the name Shandrakor only survived as the battlecry of my Clan. Even then, we walked our own path. For a long time now, Shandrakor has been nothing but a legend, hidden away out
here on the very edge of the Rim. Forgotten by everyone save obsessive historians like myself. We’re about as far from the Empire now as you can get without passing into the Darkvoid.”

“Once I would have found that comforting,” said Hazel, “but not anymore. This is a vicious place you’ve brought us to, Deathstalker. Humans don’t belong here.”

“I like it,” said Ruby. “It’s got style.”

“We should head for the Standing while things are still quiet,” said Random. “Do you have any force shields aboard, Owen?”

“Just a portable screen. It’s got enough range to cover us all while we walk, but as I recall the power cells are pretty depleted.”

“You’re just full of good news, aren’t you?” said Ruby. “Will it last long enough for us to reach the Standing?”

Owen shrugged unhappily. “Unknown. It’s only half a mile, but who knows how long that’ll take through this jungle. It might last, or it might cut out at any time.”

Moon smiled. “Good. More exercise.”

Owen gave him a hard look. He had an unnerving feeling the Hadenman meant it. What with him and Ruby Journey, Owen was beginning to feel decidedly outclassed. He was also beginning to feel like the only sane person in the group. “I’ll get the screen, and then we’d better make a start. This ship is still going to explode eventually, and on top of that, we don’t know how long the days are here. I have a strong feeling it would be a really bad idea for us to be lost in the jungle when darkness falls. I hate to think what kind of creatures go on the prowl during the night.”

“Maybe everything just goes to sleep,” said Hazel.

Owen raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

The little light that did filter through the canopy was a dull brick red, as though the air itself was glowing from the rising heat of the day. Sweat poured off Owen as he cut a rough path through the close-set trees of the Shandrakor jungle. He could have just hung back and let the Hadenman do it. Moon didn’t seem at all bothered by the heat, and his sword arm rose and fell as tirelessly as a machine. But Owen had his pride and insisted on taking his turn. He was beginning to feel like the weak link of the group. Everyone else was either an amazing fighter, a psychopath or a legend. Or
any combination of the above. Owen was used to being the best there was. He’d been trained and raised to dominate any situation, to be the leader and inspiration of any group. But none of his aristocratic upbringing had prepared him for life as an outlaw on the run. So he ignored the heat and the sweat and his aching arm and persevered, hacking a path through the thick vegetation with his sword, and tried not to think what that was doing to the blade’s edge.

Everyone else stayed close behind him. Ruby and Hazel carried their swords at the ready. Random had a gun in each hand. And the Hadenman brought up the rear, strolling coolly along as though this was nothing more than a pleasant walk in the park. Owen’s mouth twitched grudgingly. For Moon, maybe it was. They all kept a careful eye on the surrounding jungle. They could hear things moving along with them, hidden from sight, keeping a respectful distance. The portable screen saw to that. It wasn’t as powerful or impenetrable as a force shield, but its energy field established a perimeter around the group and administered a nasty shock to anything that tried to cross the line. The creatures learned quickly from the first few deaths, but still every now and again something would lurch suddenly forward from the dark between the trees to test the screen again. It happened just often enough to get on everyone’s nerves and keep them jumpy, and their tempers were growing short. Innocent remarks took on insulting tones, with the result they stopped talking to each other for anything but the absolutely necessary, which suited Owen just fine. He didn’t have the breath or the inclination for conversation, and he had a lot to think about.

There wasn’t much about the original Deathstalker in the Family archives. A great fighter and better statesman, Warrior Prime to the Empire, and inventor of the Darkvoid Device: the enigmatic machine that put out a thousand suns in a moment, leaving their planets turning slowly in an unending night. The Darkvoid. The darkness beyond the Rim.

The Deathstalker took the device and all his notes with him when he fled, and when it disappeared along with him, everyone breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Nobody wanted that threat hanging over their heads all the time. It would have made the Emperor altogether too powerful. But there had been nothing in the archives to suggest what kind of man the Deathstalker had been. Brave, certainly; honorable, apparently;
but what kind of man could have created a horror like the Darkvoid Device? And what happened to the friends, Family and supporters he’d left behind when he ran, left to the mercy of a furious Emperor? There was no record of what had happened to them, but Owen thought he could make a damn good guess.

So, assuming the Deathstalker was still held in stasis somewhere in the Last Standing, and assuming they could wake him, what would he be like? Would they be able to persuade him to join their rebellion against the Empire; an Empire probably very different from the one he remembered? And if he still had the Device, would they have the determination to use it again and cause the death of untold billions of innocents a second time …?

Owen attacked the vegetation before him with new anger. His head was aching, and it wasn’t just from the heat. The jungle stretched away before him, thick and dense and unforgiving. He would have liked to use his disrupter to blast open a path, but he didn’t want to risk starting a fire. There was no telling how easily the trees would burn, or which way a wind might carry that fire, and it would be a pretty nasty and stupid way to die.