Deathstalker Rebellion (25 page)

He stalked down the corridor, throwing open the cell doors one by one, freeing those prisoners he could. He killed the others. Some of them begged him to do it. The survivors spilled out into the corridor, milling about him, trying to thank him with voices grown raw from screaming. Finlay armed some of the sturdier ones with weapons from the guards he’d killed and then left them to their own devices. At least, that was the plan.

There was the sound of running feet and then a full company of armed guards rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor, and came charging toward him. Finlay smiled. This was more like it. And then there was the sound of running feet behind him, and he turned to see another company of armed guards approaching from the other end of the corridor. The freed prisoners crowded in close around Finlay. He sighed regretfully. It would have been an interesting fight, but he knew his limitations. Besides, he had to think of the prisoners. He pulled the mindhomb from his pocket and pressed the big red button.

The guards before and behind him stumbled to a halt, clutching at their heads and screaming. Their thoughts shattered and fragmented, their minds scrambled beyond sense or meaning, and in a moment they had changed from an organized army into a crazed, panic-stricken mob. Finlay and the freed prisoners watched, impressed, protected by their immediate proximity to the mindbomb device. Finlay turned it off and left the prisoners to deal with the still shrieking mob, while he went on about his business. A long delayed revenge filled the corridor, and blood spattered the shining steel walls. Finlay carried on opening doors and freeing prisoners, until finally he came to the cell with Julian Skye in it, and he stopped in the doorway, held by the shock of what he was seeing.

The young esper lay on his back on another of the damned steel tables, held firmly in place by restraining straps. The back of his head had been shaved and cut open, and a section of the skull removed. Dozens of colorful wires disappeared into the exposed brain tissue, leading back into an ugly piece of machinery beside the table. Two mind techs, in their familiar white gowns, looked up from what they were
doing and smiled pleasantly at Finlay as he hesitated in the doorway. They both had disrupters holstered on their hips, but neither made any move to draw them. Finlay moved slowly forward into the cell, ignoring the growing chaos of screams and pain and fury in the corridor outside. There were no guards in the cell, no obvious protection or booby traps. The mind techs eyed the blood dripping from his sword and smiled briefly at each other. They were both tall and slender men, with pale aesthetic faces like monks, one clearly older than the other. The elder looked back at Finlay and smiled again.

“Welcome, dear boy. We’ve been expecting you. Or someone like you. I’m afraid if you came to rescue dear Julian, you’re a little too late. Any attempt to move him now would undoubtably kill him. We’re using an esp-blocker to restrain his talents, and its function cancels out the effects of the mindbomb you used. Nasty little device, but quite ineffective in here. And you might as well put that sword away. I only have to touch this control under my hands, and dear Julian will experience pain beyond your capability to imagine. Put the sword away, please. Now.”

Finlay sheathed his sword, but his eyes didn’t waver. “What are you doing to him?” he said finally, and his voice came out cold and harsh and very deadly. The mind tech smiled, unmoved.

“We’re invading his thoughts. Not that long ago, we would have used one of Wormboy’s little pets, but thanks to your terrorist friends we are obliged to use older, more direct methods. It’s essentially a simple and very effective mind probe, electronically stimulating the areas of the brain we’re interested in. This one, for example, is tied directly into the pleasure-pain center. Guess which part we’re interested in. The procedure itself is surprisingly painless. I imagine he felt some discomfort from the original invasive procedures, but the brain itself has no pain sensors. It makes our job so much easier, to be able to inflict pain only as needed. And what pain he feels then …

“These other wires are concerned with short- and long-term memory. We can play back his memories on that screen on the wall in as much detail as we require. Soon we’ll have everything we want, regardless of the patient’s wishes. The procedure is, unfortunately, quite destructive to the brain tissues in the long run, but the health or even life of this pa
tient is of no concern to anyone once we have what we want. Except, of course, you. The guards will be here soon, to take you away. In the meantime, please refrain from any violent action, or you can listen to your friend screaming.”

It had grown quiet in the corridor outside. Finlay frowned. Either the prisoners had run out of guards to kill, or the guards had succeeded in restoring order. He had no way of knowing which. He should just kill the mind techs, and then kill Skye. But as long as there was still a chance of getting the poor bastard out alive, he couldn’t do that. He needed the techs to remove the wires, but he didn’t know how to make them do that. Kill one, and the other could take a very nasty revenge on Skye. But he couldn’t just hang around waiting while the mind techs stalled; sooner or later the guards would come for him. He looked across at Skye’s face, pale and sweating, and the esper’s eyes met his. His mouth worked.

“Please …” he said faintly, fighting to get the word out.

“You see?” said the mind tech. “He understands the reality of the situation.”

“Please,” said Julian Skye. “Kill me …”

The mind tech looked down at him sharply. Finlay laughed softly, and there was no humor in the sound at all. “No,
doctor
, he understands the reality of the situation completely. My mission is to put him beyond your reach, one way or the other.”

He drew his disrupter in one swift movement, and shot the mind tech with his hands by the controls. The younger tech lunged for the controls. Finlay drew a dagger from his sleeve and put it expertly through the technician’s eye. He fell backward, clutching at his face with both hands, and then hit the floor hard and lay still. Finlay nodded once, satisfied, put his disrupter away, and moved forward to lean over Skye. The esper looked up at him and tried to smile. The marks of a recent bad beating were still clear on his face, but his gaze was clear.

“Knew they’d send someone. If I could just hold out long enough.”

“What do I do?” said Finlay. “I don’t understand this machinery. Is there any way I can get this stuff out of your head?”

“No. But I can now.”

Skye closed his eyes and concentrated. For a long moment
nothing happened, and then one by one the colored wires began to squirm and wriggle their way out of the exposed brain tissues. They fell to coil harmlessly on the floor, like so many dead snakes, and when the last one finally worked its way free, Skye relaxed so utterly that Finlay was worried that the esper was dead. He checked the pulse in Skye’s neck, but it was strong and regular. He set about undoing the restraints, working as fast as he could. The guards had to be on their way by now. He sat Skye up on the table and blood ran down the esper’s neck from the ugly wound in the back of his head. Finlay gingerly pulled the flaps of cut skin together to cover the exposed brain, and held them in place with a handkerchief wrapped around the esper’s shaved head. Luckily, it was a clean one. Skye’s eyes opened suddenly, as though he’d just been thinking. He looked at his reflection in the steel wall and smiled.

“Nice work. I look like a pirate. But this doesn’t change anything. There’s no way you can get me out of here, and I won’t let them take me again. So kill me.”

“That’s not an option,” said Finlay.

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t part of your orders. My silence is what matters. I know how the underground works.”

“Dying is easy. Anyone can do it. But if you give up, if you choose to die rather than fight for a chance at life and freedom, then the mind techs will have won. They’ll have broken you. Stay alive, break free, and get your revenge on the bastards who ordered this done to you. That’s what the underground and the rebellion are all about. Now if I can get you out of range of the esp-blocker, can you find us a way out of here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Julian smiled weakly. “It’s worth a try. They had to turn the esp-blockers influence way down, to avoid damaging my brain while they were working on it. And being this close to a mindbomb did the blocker some damage. That’s how I was able to get those wires out of my head. If you can get me a few corridors away, the rest of my esp should return. And then I’ll show you some real fireworks.”

Finlay grinned. “A man after my own heart. Let’s go.”

He helped the young esper down from the table and supported him for a moment till his legs got their strength back. Although he did his best to hide it, Finlay was concerned about Skye’s condition. The Empire had clearly beaten the
hell out of him before they started tinkering with his brain. If it came to a fight, or even a prolonged chase, they could be in real trouble. He decided he’d think about that when he had to, and not before, and led the way out of the interrogation cell. Dead guards and espers lay scattered the length of the corridor, but everyone else had gone. The fight had moved on, deeper into the heart of the complex. Finlay wondered who was winning. Skye looked up and down the corridor, and then moved forward to take the lead.

“The layout of these places is pretty standardized,” he said brusquely, stepping gingerly over the bodies. “I did a study on the Empire’s interrogation centers for the under-ground a while back. We were planning rescue missions with telepaths and mindbombs. But that was before the scattering. If I remember correctly, these corridors should all eventually tie in to a central rotunda. From that I should be able to find us a way to the main flyer station. Then all we have to do is fight our way past a dozen guards, hot-wire a flyer without setting off all the explosive booby traps, and then get the hell out of here before they crank up the esp-blockers and knock out my powers again.”

“No problem,” said Finlay.

“There’s going to be a lot of guards between us and there.”

“I’ve still got the mindbomb.”

“Save it. It’s only good for half a dozen blasts or so, and then the brain tissue burns up.”

“We can do without it,” said Finlay. “You’ve got me.”

Skye looked at him. “Are you always this confident?”

“Of course. Why do you think the underground chose me for this mission? So stop worrying. It’ll give you ulcers. You stick with me, and I’ll get you out of here.”

Skye smiled genuinely for the first time. “You just might, at that.”

He led the way down one corridor after another, never hesitating at a turn or a blind corner. The corridors all looked the same to Finlay, but he trusted Skye. The young esper was standing straighter now, though the pain in his head clearly bothered him. His eyes were brighter, and there were two spots of color in his pale cheeks. He still looked as though a strong wind would blow him away, but his confidence was returning. And then they turned a corner, and Skye stopped dead in his tracks, his head cocked slightly to
one side, as though listening. Finlay looked quickly about him, but the corridor was deserted.

“Talk to me, Skye. What is it?”

“We’re in trouble.”

“I guessed that. Be specific.”

“When we were all held in Silo Nine, Wormboy allowed mind techs and other scientists to experiment on the inmates. Most died. They were the lucky ones. The survivors were monsters, changed in body and mind, no longer human. A few escaped during the underground assault, but most were too securely confined. After Wormboy was killed during the assault, the monsters were transferred here, in the hope of finding some new way of controlling them. The authorities must really not want us escaping. They’ve released a dozen of the monsters into the corridors. They’re insane with rage and pain. They’ll attack anything that moves. And they’re heading right for us.”

Finlay looked quickly around him again, but all seemed quiet for the moment. “How’s your esp? Is it back yet?”

“Some. But even a full psistorm wouldn’t stop minds like these.”

“Any chance you could contact the underground and get us a teleport out of here?”

“No. This whole place is surrounded by esp-blockers. You got in only because they let you in. We either find our own way out, or the monsters will be picking what’s left of us out of their back teeth.”

Finlay thought hard. “What about maintenance tunnels, air ducts, that sort of thing?”

“All securely locked off and guarded. This is a prison, remember? Brace yourself. They’re coming.”

Finlay took up a stance between Skye and the direction he’d indicated, sword in one hand, gun in the other. The first sounds of approaching feet reached him, loud and uneven. He could hear roars and howls and sounds that had no place in a human throat. The sounds drew nearer, and Finlay took aim with his disrupter. And then the monsters surged around the corner at the end of the corridor, and all Finlay could do was stare. Some had bulging brains that had broken apart their skulls from the inside and thrust out through the cracks. Some had bony thorns thrusting out through their flesh. Others had white, livid flesh, already rotting away from their bones. High tech had been grafted onto and into that flesh,
replacing body parts with augmentations until hardly any of their humanity was left. Just flesh in metal cages. Some still looked mostly human, but rippled the walls of the corridor as they passed, as though reality itself was shifting around them, disturbed by their inhuman and uncontrolled esp.

Finlay breathed heavily. There were bad odds, and then there were bad odds, and this was both. He switched his gun from one target to another, but whichever he took out, the others would get him long before the gun could recharge for another shot. And for once it didn’t matter a damn how good a swordsman he was. Cold steel was no match for esp. He looked at Skye.

“You know these things better than I do. Is there any way we can reach them? You’re an esper, damn it, you must still have something in common with them!”