Deathstalker Rebellion (4 page)

“Do you have a reason for thinking Giles might be a Fury?” Hazel said finally.

“Nothing specific. It just seemed a little odd to me that with so many factions appearing to take part in the rebellion, Shub is the only one we haven’t heard from. Not that I’d
give them the time of day if they had, but if I was them, I’d have an agent or two planted in the Court and the underground. Shub has a vested interest in knowing when the Empire is weak.”

“You’re right,” said Hazel. “That is a disturbing thought. If you have any more like that, feel free to keep them to yourself. I have enough to be paranoid about as it is. If you’re that worried, why haven’t you said anything before?”

“I haven’t any proof. And besides I wasn’t entirely sure of who might be listening. Or who I could trust. Personally, I think Giles is exactly who he says he is.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to trust someone.”

“Yeah,” said Hazel. “That’s what’s been bothering me.”

Owen sighed. “Life never used to be this complicated. There was a time when my most arduous decision of the day was which wine to have with my meal.”

Hazel smiled suddenly. “And you want to give up all this excitement, just to go back to that, and your dusty books?”

“Damn right I do. I want my old life back. I was perfectly happy being a minor historian, of no importance to anyone but myself. The best wines, first-class meals, every whim indulged and waited on hand and foot every minute of the day and night. No worries, no responsibilities I couldn’t safely delegate to somebody else, and absolutely no chance of being suddenly and nastily killed. I’d go back like a shot, if I could.”

“And leave behind all your friends? And what about me?” Hazel batted her eyes at him coquettishly. Owen winced.

“Please don’t do that. It looks almost unnatural when you do it. You needn’t worry that I’ll abandon you, or the others. I’ve seen too much of the suffering and injustice the Empire is built on to be able to turn a blind eye to it anymore. Millions of people bled and died and were enslaved, so that I and a few others like me could have our lives of comfort. I have sworn upon my blood and upon my honor to put an end to that, and I will see it through or die trying. I just don’t have any illusions about myself or how I came to be doing this. I’m nobody’s hero, Hazel. Just another poor soul caught between a rock and a hard place. Let us change the subject yet again. Was there anything new from Mistworld before we left?”

“Nothing helpful. Ruby and I knew a few useful people in
Mistport, and Jack Random came up with a few more names, but they’re all still very suspicious of us. We didn’t make any friends on our last visit, and they’ve learned the hard way down the years to trust no one but themselves. They’re waiting for us to commit ourselves first. They want a sign; something bold and audacious, and above all, successful.”

“Fair enough,” said Owen. “This first strike against Golgotha should impress the hell out of them. Assuming nothing goes wrong and we don’t foul up. We only have one chance at this, and we’ve had no chance to practice. I have done my best to stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong; it just makes my head hurt and does terrible things to my bladder. I was never meant to be a warrior, no matter what my father wanted.”

Hazel looked at him for a moment. “Owen, you think about your father too much. You’ve told me how he tried to manipulate you all your life, through his schemes and intrigues and hidden agendas, but he’s dead now. It’s all over now. Let it go. You’re your own man these days.”

“Am I? He’s still pulling my strings, even from the grave! This is just the kind of magnificent heroic gesture he always believed in! I’m becoming exactly the kind of man he wanted, the kind of man I’ve struggled all my life not to be: a bully with a sword.”

Hazel sighed inwardly and wondered how many times they were going to have to change the subject before they could find something they could both safely talk about. There had to be something. “This Stevie Blue, who’s supposed to be meeting us dirtside; know anything about him?”

“You read the same reports I did. Apparently, he’s an esper clone, in fairly high standing in the Golgotha underground. Assuming we manage to get together, he’ll come back with us to be the underground’s voice in our planning sessions. Reading between the lines, I get the feeling he’s a bit of an anarchist, but it takes all sorts to make an Empire. Or a rebellion.”

“What do you expect to happen after we’ve won, and it’s all over?” Hazel said suddenly. “We’ve never really discussed this, any of us. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about bringing Lionstone down, but none at all discussing what we’re going to replace her with.”

“It’s all rather moot at the moment,” said Owen. “The
odds are stacked against us surviving, let alone winning. But if we do depose her … Well, I suppose Parliament and the Company of Lords will put forward suitable candidates, and together we’ll choose someone new to become Emperor and begin a program of reforms. Clean up the corruption, work in a little more democracy here and there, and of course a pardon for all rebels past and present. Then we can all get back to leading normal lives again.”

“To hell with that!” Hazel said hotly. “We’re not going through all this just to settle for the same old same old, with some pretty new window dressing! The whole system is corrupt from top to bottom, and our only chance for real justice is to tear it all down and start again. No more Emperor, no more Lords, liberation for all clones and espers, full democracy and freedom for everyone!”

“Everyone?” said Owen aghast. “Clones, aliens, espers … everyone?”

“Damn right. It has to be for everyone. That’s what freedom means.”

“Sounds more like anarchy to me. Not to mention total bloody chaos. If no one knows their place, how can you achieve anything?”

“I have never known my place, and I’ve achieved quite a lot. You’d be surprised what people can do, given a chance.”

Owen looked at her thoughtfully. “Hazel d’Ark. The d’Arks used to be nobility, not all that long ago. Do I detect just a little overreaction here? By someone just a little ashamed of their aristocratic roots? Surely, Hazel, you must feel some loyalty to the Iron Throne?”

“Not one damned bit. The only soft spot I’ve got for the nobility would be a massive quicksand big enough to swallow the whole lot of them. I was never an aristo. I wasn’t born a d’Ark; I stole the name when I was on the run and needed some false papers in a hurry. Mainly, because I liked the sound of it. I didn’t want to risk my family finding me again or being sent back to them if I was rounded up.”

“You never talk about your family,” said Owen. “Don’t you ever miss them?”

“No I bloody don’t,” said Hazel. “If I never hear from them again, that will suit me just fine.”

Owen chose his words carefully. “Did they … abuse you in any way?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. They were just so bloody bor
ing and nice I couldn’t stand them. Their idea of a wild party was a wine and cheese tasting where you spit the wine out. I had to get away, see the universe, taste some life before I got old and gray like them. You know how it is.”

“Yes,” said Owen. “I suppose I do. But I never had a chance to leave my Family. Too many duties and responsibilities. In the end they all left me, dying one after the other while I just stood by helplessly and watched it happen. There was never anything I could have done, but it didn’t stop me feeling I should have done something.

“The boost killed a lot of them while they were still children. Only a few in every generation survive its first onslaught. The price of our genetic gift. Which is why I am all the sons and daughters of my father’s line. I’m pretty much all that’s left of the Clan now. Apparently, they found some distant cousin to take over the Lordship in my place, but I’m the last of the direct line. When I die, my line dies with me. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Seems to me we did as much harm as good down the years, but then I suppose that’s true of most of the Families. And above it all, my father, sacrificing me and everyone else in his endless schemes and intrigues … I never had a life of my own, ever since I was a small child. This mission is the nearest I’ve come to running away, to doing what I want to do instead of what my father planned. It feels very … liberating.”

He smiled suddenly. “You’re right. I do tend to lecture people, don’t I? One of the more socially acceptable vices of the scholar, I’m afraid. What were we talking about? Oh, yes, universal suffrage, even for the non-people. I really don’t think you’ve been thinking this through, Hazel. If all the clones and espers were to be freed and enfranchised, the Empire itself would collapse. Its whole economy is based on the exploitation of clones and espers. They turn the wheels that keep things moving. Without them, everything would just fall apart. Food and power distribution would be disrupted, businesses would be in chaos … Civilization itself could be threatened. Billions of innocents would suffer.”

“No one’s really innocent, if their lives of comfort are based on the suffering of others. If we have to tear civilization apart in order to put it back together again in a more just form, then that’s what we’ll do. Remember how horrified you were at how people lived on Mistworld? The ap
palling conditions and short brutal lives? Think how bad the lives of clones and espers in the Empire must be, if they’re prepared to risk their lives just for a chance to flee to Mistworld. They’re not second-class citizens, they’re not even slaves. They’re just property. Worked till they dropped, because there are always more to replace them. When I said tear it all down, I wasn’t kidding. Anything would be better than what we’ve got now.”

“I can’t argue with that,” said Owen. “I spent most of my life ignoring things I didn’t want to see; I won’t do that anymore. But there’s still the problem of the aliens. There are at least two new alien species Out There somewhere, not counting whatever created the Madness Maze, all of them at least equal to our own level of technology. Weaken the Empire too much, and they might just walk in and wipe us out.”

Hazel shrugged. “We can’t afford to think about all the possibilities, or we’d go mad. There’d always be some good reason why we should put things off. Lionstone has to fall if the people are to be free, and if you and I are to live in safety. AH we can do is take things one step at a time. We’ll worry about the aliens as and when they make an appearance. They don’t have to be enemies, you know. And anyway, you’re a fine one to talk; you’re the one who woke a whole army of Hadenmen from their Tomb. The only reason the Hadenmen aren’t still the official Enemies of Humanity is because the AIs on Shub are worse. I suppose you’ll be suggesting we team up with them next.”

“I would rather cut off my head with a rusty saw,” Owen said firmly. “The Hadenmen are a calculated risk. Shub, on the other hand, will settle for nothing less than the extermination of the human species. I may be reckless, but I am not stupid.”

They both looked up sharply as one of the augmented men approached them. Hazel surreptitiously turned her reassembled projectile weapon so that it tracked the Hadenman’s progress. Owen let his hand drift casually closer to his disrupter. The augmented man loomed over them, his movements inhumanly graceful, his eyes blazing so brightly Owen and Hazel couldn’t look at them directly. His face held nothing that could be recognized as a human emotion, and when he spoke his voice was a harsh, grotesque buzzing.

“We have left hyperspace and are currently in orbit over
Golgotha. The ship’s computers have made contact with the orbiting security satellites and persuaded them that our presence here is entirely natural and unthreatening. Our cloaking device will conceal us from passing ships and planet-based sensors as we descend toward the surface. There will be no difficulties. You may prepare yourselves for the drop.”

“Thank you,” said Owen politely, but the Hadenman was already walking away. They weren’t much for small talk. Hazel pulled a face at the Hadenman’s departing back and then looked at Owen.

“So, are you ready for the drop or do you need to disappear into the toilet again?”

“I don’t think you could get another drop out of me if you used a siphon. Let’s get down to the cargo bay. It’s time to get this show on the road.”

“Damn right,” said Hazel.

They made their way back through the hulking alien machinery, climbing carefully over it when there was no clear path around it. The gleaming metals felt uncomfortably cold, and some of it shimmered uncertainly, as though it wasn’t always there. Owen and Hazel gave the machinery as much room as they could, kept their hands strictly to themselves, and descended floor by floor to the empty cargo bay. The vast steel cavern was lined with thick-ribbed cables that curled around and over each other in eye-numbing confusion, but the only equipment set out in all the empty space were two standard gravity sleds and a small package of carefully prepared code discs to be fed into the Tax and Tithe computers. Owen and Hazel checked the sleds over thoroughly, just in case, and then settled down to wait. It wouldn’t be long now.

The sleds were really nothing more than a flat surface disturbingly like a coffin lid with an antigrav motor, a set of controls, two built-in disrupters, and a force shield to protect the rider from the wind. Pretty basic, but all they’d need. If nothing went wrong.

Owen hefted the computer codes in his hand. A very small package to do so much potential damage. Rather like Hazel, in fact. He smiled at the thought and looked across at her. She had her sword out and was polishing the blade with a filthy piece of rag. Owen was never entirely sure how he felt about her at any given time. He respected her, certainly,
and admired her skill with weapons … She was one of the finest fighters he’d ever fought beside. And he certainly respected the fire in her voice when she spoke of freedom and justice, even if he didn’t always agree with her solutions. She’d come barging into his life like a runaway horse, saving him from almost certain death, and then proceeded to shake up and question everything he thought he believed in. And somewhere along the line, quite against his will, he’d fallen in love with her.