Deathstalker War (55 page)

It wasn’t much more than a bolt-hole, really—a single wide room with boarded-up windows and only the one exit. Guns and rifles lay stacked along one wall, along with open cases of ammunition. A dozen heavily armed men and women were staring out through cracks in the boarded-up windows. They barely spared Toby and Flynn a glance. The air was thick and close, and smelled of sweat and tension. Stevie One had a muttered conversation with one of the rebels, while Stevie Three found a gun she liked and started loading it. Toby found a chair and helped Flynn onto it. The cameraman was looking better, but was increasingly distressed at the state of his clothes.

“I mean, these were my best lacy set,” he said bitterly. “I knew I shouldn’t have risked wearing them down here.”

“Damn right,” said Toby. “They very nearly got both of us killed.”

Flynn sniffed. “Marines have no fashion sense.” The camera perched on his shoulder seemed to nod agreement.

Toby turned to Stevie Three. “What is this place?”

“What’s left of a rebel cell, fairly low on the chain of command, which is probably why the troops haven’t found it yet. We’re using it as a check-in point, for rebels who got scattered when the invasion hit. We’re waiting for orders, but I don’t even know if there are any traces of the underground’s organization left in this town. We’ve been hit hard. Communications have gone to hell, and there are hardly any espers here. You’re lucky my sister and I were out looking for strays; we’d already decided it was the last run we were going to make. This town has fallen; it just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Have you got time for an interview?” said Toby. “Seeing as we’ve got nothing to do for the moment. There’s always the chance someone’s watching.”

He gestured to Flynn, who nodded that his camera was still running. He settled it comfortably on his shoulder, and the camera turned its glowing, unblinking eye on Stevie Three.

“Not much to tell,” the esper clone said quietly. “The invasion took us all by surprise. The chain of command among the rebels was shattered almost immediately. We have no idea how things are going in any of the main cities. Some of the rebels tried to surrender when they saw how bad things were going, but the Empire forces aren’t interested in taking prisoners. My sister and I did what we could to help, taking out some of the smaller war machines with our fire, preying on troops that got separated from the main forces, but there were just so many of them . . . We’re all tired. So many of us are dead. Our ammunition’s getting low. Maybe all that’s left to us is to die well. And take as many of the bastards with us as we can.”

“They’re here!” yelled Stevie One, glaring out one of the slits in the windows. Everyone pushed their guns through the cracks between the boards and opened fire on the advancing troops. The noise of so many projectile weapons firing in a confined space was deafening. Toby and Flynn clapped their hands to their ears. Smoke and the stench of cordite filled the air. And then an energy beam punched right through the solid wooden door, passing on through the body of the rebel standing guard behind it, before exiting through the far wall.

“War wagon!” yelled Stevie One. “It’s got disrupter cannon!”

And then energy beams were hitting the room from all directions. They came slamming through the walls, catching most of the rebels before they could drop to the floor for cover. The beams filled the room with blinding light, crisscrossing like some glaring luminous spider’s web. Most of the rebels were holed and blown apart in the first few seconds, their charred and scattered parts falling to lie twitching on the floor. One man’s head was blown clean away, and his body managed half a dozen faltering steps before another beam took its legs out, and it fell.

Toby tried to burrow into the stone floor, his hands over his head. He’d grabbed Flynn and hit the deck the moment Stevie One yelled her first warning. He wasn’t a fighter. The beams kept coming, riddling the walls with endless holes, filling the room with the stench of ionized air. A few people were crying out, in fear or shock or suffering, but that didn’t last long. Finally the beams stopped, and all was quiet, save for quiet creaking noises from the weakened walls. Early-morning light streamed through the hundreds of holes in the walls, diffused by the drifting smoke. Toby slowly lifted his head and looked around him. The dead were everywhere. Torn apart and broken, like so many dolls deserted by angry children who didn’t want to play anymore. Flynn was lying beside Toby, cradling his precious camera in his arms. He nodded to Toby to show he was okay, but made no move to get up. Stevie One and Stevie Three lay together, and only one of them was moving.

Stevie Three sat up slowly. Half her hair and half her face had been burned away from her head where an energy beam had touched her in passing, but otherwise she seemed unhurt. Stevie One had fared less well. She’d been hit several times, and her left arm had been shot away, the steaming wound roughly cauterized just above the elbow. Stevie Three cradled her in her arms. Stevie One groaned, and her eyes flickered open.

“Damn,” she said thickly. “I think the odds just got worse.”

“Shut up,” said Stevie Three. “Rest. Save your strength.”

“What for? It’s over, love. The Empire’s won.”

“It’s not over till we say it’s over,” said Stevie Three fiercely. “Don’t you dare die and leave me alone. We lived together and we’ll die together, and we’ll do it on our feet. Get up, damn you. Come on, love. One last spit in the Empress’s eye.”

Stevie One smiled. “Right.”

Stevie Three got them both on their feet, holding Stevie One up till her legs firmed. They looked around for other survivors, and saw Toby and Flynn looking up at them. Stevie Three smiled.

“I might have known. Good men and women die, but reporters go on forever. Stay down, boys. This isn’t your fight.”

“What are you going to do?” said Toby.

Stevie Three looked at the door before her, and Toby knew she was seeing the enemy massed outside. When she spoke, her voice was almost calm, matter of fact. “Once there were four of us. Clones, sisters, lovers; a closer relationship than you can ever imagine. Two died, fighting the Empire that created them, and now it’s our turn. We’ve always known we were born to burn. All that’s left is one last gesture of defiance.”

“What are you going to do?” said Toby. “What can you do?”

“Die well,” said Stevie One, and Stevie Three nodded.

“Sometimes, that’s all there is.”

“No,” said Toby, his voice roughened by unfamiliar emotions. “There’s got to be another way. There’s always another way.”

“No,” said Stevie Three, almost kindly. “Not always. Every road comes to its end eventually. Get your camera ready. We’re going out.”

She hauled her sister over to the door, carefully undid the locks, and pulled back the bolts one by one. Flynn’s camera rose from his shoulder to get a better view. Stevie Three yanked the door open and slammed it back against the wall. The esper clones stood framed in the doorway a moment, looking out at the men and machines arrayed against them. From somewhere deep inside, Stevie One found the strength to stand alone. Stevie Three glanced back over her shoulder, and showed her teeth in a smile.

“See you in Hell, boys.”

She turned back to stare out the doorway, and both the Stevie Blues burst into flames. Bright blue fires burned around them, strengthening and consuming them as they focused all their last strength and rage into a final act of defiance. They ran forward, yelling their war cry, fire blazing from three outstretched hands to incinerate men and machines alike. The Imperial marines opened fire. Disrupter beams punched through the Stevie Blues again and again, shaking them like a dog shakes a rat. They fell together, and their flames went out, and there were no more Stevie Blues, anywhere at all.

Flynn got it all on film. Toby couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

A marine Sergeant came forward, and calmly stirred the dead espers with his boot, to make sure they were dead. He nodded, satisfied, and then walked unhurriedly forward to look through the door at Toby and Flynn. Toby waited to die. He had nowhere to go, and wouldn’t have known what to do with a weapon if he’d had one. He felt strangely unconcerned, as though it felt wrong he should still be alive, when everyone else was dead. He glared up at the Sergeant unflinchingly, and hoped Flynn would keep filming to the last. The Sergeant stood over him and smiled.

“You’re a lucky boy, Shreck. Turns out the Empress is something of a fan of yours. She’s followed everything you’ve done recently. Think how surprised and delighted she was when the
Elegance
picked up your signal. So, you’re coming with us. You and your cameraman are now official Imperial reporters, and the Empress wants you covering the fall of the Deathstalker Standing. And no, you don’t get a choice. So hurry up, or you’ll miss it.”

He hauled Toby up onto his feet and slapped some of the dust off him. Flynn got up unaided. The Sergeant looked at him and winced.

“We’d better find you a cloak. Even reporters are supposed to have some standards. Come along, lads. The Empress wants the whole Empire to see what happens to people who dare rebel against her wise and just rule. Do a really good job, and maybe she won’t have you executed afterward for fraternizing with the enemy. Now move it!”

Toby and Flynn walked unsteadily out of the room of death and into the waiting arms of the Empire.

In the ancient Standing of his Clan, David Deathstalker sat on the edge of his bed, watching his planet die on the viewscreen before him. He clicked through channel after channel, but the scene was always the same. His people, fighting and dying. Fighting ground troops or combat androids or war machines, but always dying. The villages and the towns and the cities burned, and the countryside was full of refugees being rounded up by Imperial troops. One in ten would be executed later, as an example. Lionstone was very keen on tradition.

David turned off the viewscreen, and the bedchamber was suddenly quiet. He hugged himself as tightly as he could stand, trying to hold himself together, despite the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his middle. The pain came and went now. He didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not. When it was very bad all he could do was sit very still, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t call out, and wait for the pain to pass so he could think again. He felt hot and cold by turns, and sweat was dripping off his face. He tried desperately to think of something he could do to save the situation. His surrender had been turned down, and he couldn’t get a signal offworld to call on the underground for help. Down below, the few staff still loyal to him or the rebellion were fighting to keep the Imperial forces out of the Standing. They wouldn’t last long. Kit SummerIsle came through the open door, and David knew his news from his face.

“Captain Silence and the Investigator are leading a strike force against the main door. There’s no way our people are going to be able to keep them out.”

David nodded slowly. “They were never more than a holding action.” He struggled to get up off the bed and onto his feet. Kit hurried over to help him. David hung on to him. His legs-felt like they might go at any moment, but he wouldn’t give in to them. He forced them straight and smiled at his friend.

“This is it, Kit. Once the Standing falls, the rebellion here is over. I think I finally understand what it means, to be a Deathstalker. To fight the good fight, to put it all on the line, even when you know you can’t win.” He gestured at the old holoportrait of the original Deathstalker, on the wall at the foot of his bed. “Look at him. Like some bad old barbarian mercenary, in his leathers and scalplock. Giles, my ancestor. I wonder what he would think of me. We never really had a chance to talk. And then there’s Owen. I think I understand him a little better now. He tried to warn me, and I wouldn’t listen. He said I’d never be able to hold Virimonde, and he was right. The Empress gives and the Empress takes away. God damn the Empress.”

“You’re feverish,” said Kit. “Sit down again.”

“No. If I sit down now, I’ll never find the strength to get up again. Time we were leaving, I think.”

Kit looked at him. “The Standing’s surrounded, David. They have all the exits blocked.”

“There’s one they don’t know about.” David lurched over to the holoportrait and hit a hidden switch, and the portrait swung sideways, revealing a narrow passage. Lights came on, showing the passage stretching down into darkness. David smiled tiredly as he saw new hope rise in Kit’s eyes. “Secret passage. Owen told me about it. Saved his ass when they came for him. Finishes up in the flyer bay, in the caves below the Standing. We’ll grab a flyer, shove the throttle to max, and get the hell out of here before they know what’s happening. I can’t die yet, Kit. My people need me. If I can’t save them, maybe I can arrange for them to be avenged. You know, Kit, it’s taken a long time, but I think I’ve finally found my honor and my duty.”

“You are feverish,” said Kit. “Let’s go.”

They made their way slowly down the secret passage, David leaning heavily on Kit. Blood was running freely down his side now, and when he coughed, as he sometimes had to despite the pain, blood sprayed from his mouth along with the sound. But he kept going. He wouldn’t give up. A Deathstalker never gives up. His head swam sickly, and sometimes he thought it was Owen there in the passage with him, and sometimes it was Giles. But when his head cleared, Kit was always there with him, the only real friend he’d ever had.

They reached the end of the passage, and came to a stop while Kit peered cautiously out into the flyer bay. He snapped his head back in immediately, and a disrupter beam hit the top of the tunnel mouth, blasting debris from the stone ceiling. David was caught off-balance and fell heavily to the floor, pulling Kit down with him. They lay together on the stone floor, breathing heavily. Kit fired his gun blindly out the passage mouth, to discourage anyone from coming in after them. He looked for David’s gun, and found he didn’t have one.

“David,” he said urgently. “Where’s your gun?”

“I gave it to Alice, just before we crashed. She’s still got it.” David spit blood onto the floor, and pulled a face. “Kit, I just tried to boost, and nothing happened. There’s nothing left in me. No more fight. This is as far as I go.”