Deathstalker (67 page)

Finlay could dimly hear distant screams from the surrounding espers in their cells, goaded to action by the spur in their brains. They were killing their only hope, and they knew it. He almost lost track of himself in the vast sea of minds, but slowly, bit by bit, he curled in upon himself, shutting out everything else, drawing upon the ingrained disciplines of a fighter in the Arena, where to lose concentration even for a moment could mean your death. He pulled
back from the brink, but still he was helpless in the grip of such power. They were all helpless, alone in the dark with Wormboy.

And then something wonderful happened. One of those minds exploded in a searing blast of light that threw back the darkness. One mind, pure and potent, reached out and gathered all the captive minds into its fold, and pulled them together in a single vast cry of outrage. Once Jenny Psycho, now fully Mater Mundi, she gave them hope and strength and bound them in a single gestalt mind, fully the equal of the Empire’s greatest esper creation. But only the equal. Thousands of minds swept this way and that in the gestalt, torn between Mater Mundi’s sheer power and the controlling worms hotwired directly into their brains. The prisoners were literally fighting themselves.

Finlay was there, too, snatched up into the gestalt by the sheer power of what was happening. He could feel Evangeline there beside him, somehow always just out of reach. Wormboy’s power beat around him like the thunder of huge wings, grasping for him but unable to make contact. He had no worm in his brain, and more importantly he was not one man, one mind, but two. Even as Wormboy’s thoughts curled around Finlay, pulling him in, the Masked Gladiator remained free, unnoticed, waiting. Finlay plunged deep into Wormboy’s mind, seemingly just another small victory over Mater Mundi, another spark guttering in the darkness, but the moment Wormboy clamped down on Finlay Campbell, the Masked Gladiator was released. He sprang free, arrayed as always in his familiar armor and featureless steel helm, his sword Morgana in his hands. Wormboy sensed something was wrong, and tried to recoil, but he had already brought his killer deep into his own mind. The Masked Gladiator saw the single shining light in the middle of everything that was Wormboy’s private self, his inner being, his soul, and it seemed a very small thing indeed. It was the easiest thing in the world for the Masked Gladiator to step forward, take off his helm and blow it out like a candle.

Darkness slammed down as Wormboy died, and his last fading scream was drowned out by the roar of triumph as the prisoners of Silo Nine burst out of his grasp, free at last. Finlay Campbell, complete again, watched them go, waited to be sure no one was left behind, and then strolled casually out into the light to take his bows.

*     *     *

Only when he dropped back into his own head, opened his eyes and looked around, he found himself in the middle of utter chaos. People were running everywhere, shouting and screaming, and the lights were flashing on and off. Evangeline was clinging to his arm, shouting in his ear, and Pindar was staring wildly about him. Finlay shook his head and made himself concentrate on what Evangeline was trying to tell him.

“Finlay, we have to get out of here! The prisoners have all broken free, and Mater Mundi is blasting a way out of the prison. The authorities have panicked and called in the Imperial Guards. Thousands of them are fighting it out with thousands of espers and clones. The guards are getting their ass kicked, but there’s so many of them. They’re everywhere! They’ll be here soon. We have to get out of here, Finlay, while we still can.”

“All right,” said Finlay. “I’m back. How many of us are there?”

“Just us three. The others are off fighting. The Stevie Blues are in their element. Half of Silo Nine must be burning by now.”

“So what’s the problem? We’ll just go back the way we came and get out under cover of the fighting.”

“You don’t understand,” said Pindar. “They’re bringing in esp-blockers. Hundreds of them. Our people will be helpless. Unarmed. The guards will slaughter them.”

Finlay raised a hand to interrupt him and thought hard. They couldn’t have come this far, achieved so much, just to fail now.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said finally. “I have an implant, a very tricky piece of quality tech, that enables me to sneak past security systems without being noticed. We’ll patch it into the prison’s systems via my comm implant, knock out the surveillance, and then everyone makes a run for it. A lot of people won’t make it, but most should. It’s not much of a plan, but it’s the best chance we’ve got.”

“Do it,” said Pindar. “I’ll pass the word to the others.”

He turned away, and both of them concentrated in their separate ways.

Finlay and Evangeline made it out. Pindar didn’t. Gut shot by a guard he never saw. Finlay killed the guard, but it
didn’t make any difference. They carried Pindar as far as they could and left him where he died. They never did find Evangeline’s friend, the one she’d gone in specially to look for. The Stevie Blues got out, riding a wall of flame. More than half the prisoners managed to escape in the end, streaming out under the unseeing eyes of the security cameras, before the esp-blockers could be deployed. But hundreds of espers and clones died anyway, and more were captured. They were led away in restraints, neutered by the esp-blockers. Many suicided rather than be taken again.

The man who used to be called Hood walked unhurriedly through Silo Nine’s corridors, his cowl pushed well back to reveal himself as the Lord High Dram. Some of the underground prisoners spat at him, before the guards clubbed them down, but Dram just smiled. There were bodies everywhere, and he had to step over and around them. Parts of the prison were still burning. And Wormboy was dead. On the whole, he had to admit his operation to crush the underground had not been as successful as he’d hoped.

But, a great many espers and clones were dead, and the guards had captured as many as had escaped. The underground’s plan to break out all the prisoners had been foiled. The prison could be repaired, and they could always grow another Wormboy. Eventually. More importantly, Mater Mundi had been forced to reveal herself, and the extent of her powers. And that was worth a great many dead guards. She’d find it a lot harder to find a bushel to hide her light under now. The underground would be scattered again, thanks to his knowledge of their inner workings. His people were already raiding the appropriate locations. It would take the underground years to recover and regroup.

As Hood, he could identify many names and faces, including Finlay Campbell, Evangeline Shreck and Valentine Wolfe. Finlay didn’t matter anymore, but the other knowledge should give him great power over the Shrecks and the Wolfes. They would be only too willing to bow to him to prevent their names becoming a scandal. Power like that was worth a lot.

The Empress would take steps to see that this operation was regarded by everyone as a great success, playing up the gains and turning a blind eye to the losses. It should be more than enough to justify her making him her official consort. And he even had some captured cyberats to give to
Lionstone to help her with her problems in the Matrix. They’d cooperate rather than face conditioning. And finally, the captured clones and espers would make fine subjects for his experiments with the esper drug. As official consort, no one would be able to deny him access to the prisoners, or ask what became of them afterward.

Dram smiled and smiled as he walked, and the guards gave him plenty of room, especially when he started to chuckle aloud.

It was black as the deepest pit of hell, and not a light anywhere. Once there had been stars, burning bright in the darkness, but they were gone. No suns shone in the Darkvoid, and its frozen planets sailed silently in a night without end. The Last Standing of the original Deathstalker dropped out of hyperspace without a murmur and drifted into orbit around the lifeless rock of the Wolfling World, also known as lost Haden. The castle hung above the planet in a halo of its own light, a huge stone structure with towers and battlements, looking down over an endless abyss. The light didn’t travel far, as though the darkness resented it, but some of it touched the Wolfling World, gleaming gently on the frozen atmosphere. There was no sign of life on the planet; all its mysteries were deep underground, safely concealed in the hidden heart of lost Haden.

Inside the Standing, the small group of rebels stood before a wide viewscreen that showed what it could of the planet below. Owen Deathstalker, outlawed Lord of Virimonde, who still thought himself a historian rather than a warrior. Hazel d’Ark, pirate, bon vivant and reluctant rebel. Jack Random the professional rebel and Ruby Journey the bounty hunter. Tobias Moon, the augmented man, come home at last. And Giles, the original Deathstalker, creator of the Darkvoid. They looked at the darkness he had brought about by the snuffing of a thousand suns and felt a little of the long night’s chill seep into their bones. There were still stars on the far side of the Rim, outside the Darkvoid, but something in the void’s essential nature prevented any light from
entering. Owen found his hand had fallen instinctively to the sword at his hip. There was something dangerous, even threatening, about such absolute darkness.

“Welcome to the Wolfling World,” said Giles. He was still wrapped in his battered, greasy furs and was gnawing on his third protein cube. Apparently being kept in stasis for over nine centuries had given him something of an appetite. Owen had tried one of the protein cubes earlier, on learning it was the only kind of food the castle could currently produce, and had decided very definitely that he’d rather go hungry. Giles wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and studied the Darkvoid with enigmatic eyes.

“This is the first light that planet has seen in nine hundred and forty-three years. I suppose it’s only fitting that I should be the one to bring back the light, since I was the one who took it away. Sometimes I wonder if there are things living in the dark places between the planets, dark creatures, thriving in the endless night I brought about in a moment of fury and weakness.

“The last time I was here, this was a living world, brimming with life. There were oceans and continents, beasts of the earth and of the air, cities and people. There were beautiful birds with tails of fire, and tourists flew through the Sighing Mountains on chartered gravity sleds. All gone now, crushed under the weight of a frozen atmosphere. All that remains are the Madness Maze and the Hall of the Fallen, and the cities and laboratories of lost Haden, quarried deep in the heart of the planet. Undisturbed for so long, waiting for us to awaken them.”

“Tell us about the Wolflings,” said Hazel. She kept her eyes on the viewscreen, her hands automatically polishing her sword blade with a dirty rag that also served as a handkerchief, “You said they were created here.”

“Yes. Born and died here, all but one. They were the Empire’s first try at creating genetically engineered soldiers. A pinch of man, a pinch of wolf, and a few special ingredients. It took them a while to get the mix just right, but finally they ended up with a perfect hunting and killing machine, unparalled in human evolution. The Wolfling.”

“So what went wrong?” said Ruby. She was watching Giles with her usual impassive face, her pale features almost ghostly above her black leathers. Owen couldn’t help noticing that she had her hand resting near her sword, too.

“Nothing went wrong with the Wolflings,” said Giles. “They were everything they were supposed to be, and more besides. It was the more that upset the scientists. The Wolflings were smart, far smarter than their human masters. Faster, stronger, more savage—and smarter too? The scientists saw the possible shape of things to come and panicked. They called in the Imperial forces, lured the Wolflings to an arranged meeting and shot them down from ambush. Of course, the Wolflings fought back. Killed a lot of men before they finally went down. Some got away and had to be hunted down. The Empire lost a lot more soldiers doing that, but eventually they got them all. Except for one. The best of the best, and the most cunning. He evaded capture and all the traps they set. He was still here when the Empire finally gave up, and the Imperial forces went home. Sightings grew less and less, until finally he became just another myth, a legend, a story to tell newcomers. Of course he wasn’t really dead. He’d gone underground.

“He was still here when the Darkvoid fell, and everyone but he died.

“He was still here when the scientists of lost Haden ventured into the Darkvoid in search of a safe place to hide their laboratories. He watched as they experimented upon themselves, designing ever more intricate hybrids of man and machine. The Hadenmen. He was there when they went out to conquer the Empire, and when they came limping back, defeated, to hide themselves away in their tomb and wait for a better time. He’s down there now, watching and waiting, impossibly old, incredibly powerful, standing guard over the Madness Maze and the Hall of the Fallen.”

“How do you know so much about it?” said Random. “You were in stasis on Shandrakor while most of this was going on.”