Simon R. Green - Deathstalker - 4 - Deathstalker Honor

Simon R. Green - Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

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Deathstalker Honor by

Simon R. Green

They were, after all, official heroes of the great rebellion.

Owen Deathstalker; outlawed aristocrat and reluctant warrior.

Hazel d'Ark; ex-clonelegger and ex-pirate.

Jack Random; the legendary professional rebel.

Ruby Journey; the infamous female bounty hunter.

Together, they fought impossible odds in the name of freedom and justice, and

triumphed time and time again. They gathered an army of the bold and the valiant, the

downtrodden and the desperate, and led them to victory. And in the great steel and brass

Palace of the homeworld Golgotha, they threw down the Empress Lionstone XIV and

destroyed the Iron Throne of Empire forever.

They should have been feted and honored, raised to the heights and celebrated

throughout the civilized worlds.

They should have lived happily ever after.

Unfortunately, life isn't like that.

CHAPTER ONE

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Charnel House

On the good ship Sunstrider II;

"Bounty hunters!" said Hazel d'Ark disgustedly. "After all we've done, after all we've

been through, we end up as nothing more than glorified bounty hunters!"

"Beats our previous occupation," Owen said mildly. Tall and rangy, with dark hair and

darker eyes, he lounged bonelessly in the lounge's most comfortable chair. "Chasing

down war criminals is important work. I don't know about you, but I find being the

hunter rather than the hunted much easier on the nerves. Besides, must be a nice change

for you, being legitimate."

"It's the principle of the thing!" snapped Hazel. "We used to be somebody! We led

armies! We overthrew the Empire! Risked getting our asses shot off time after time, and

all so we could end up doing Parliament's dirty work. Makes me want to puke."

Owen was thrown for a moment. He would have been prepared to bet good money

Hazel wouldn't recognize a principle if she fell over it on her way back from the toilet.

But he rallied gamely and closed the discussion with an accurate if not entirely tactful

point of order.

"As I recall, this was all your idea anyway."

Hazel glared at him, and then turned away to glower at the nearest bulkhead. She was in

one of her moods again, and not about to be swayed by mere logic. Owen sighed, but

had the sense to do it very quietly. Truth be told, he found bounty hunting something of

a comedown too, but all the alternatives had been worse. When he was fighting the

rebellion, he'd never really thought about what he'd do when it was all over. Mostly

because he was usually too busy trying to keep himself from being killed, but also

because he'd never seriously expected to see an end to the rebellion in his lifetime. Most

people who stood up to oppose the Empress Lionstone XIV, also known as the Iron

Bitch, tended to end up in early graves. Often with bits missing. But then, nothing in his

life had ever turned out the way he expected.

Looking back, he seemed to have spent most of his time stumbling from one crisis to

another, acted upon as often as acting from his own plans and wishes. There had been

schemes and conspiracies all around him, most of which he knew only by the brief

shadows they cast across his life in passing. And in the end it seemed to him that for all

his intentions and bold companions, and the mysterious powers he'd acquired from the

Madness Maze, he had finally come to stand defiantly before the Iron Throne through

his own sheer stubbornness, and a refusal to be beaten by odds that would have

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frightened off a more sensible man.

He'd ended up a hero and a savior of Humanity, and no one had been more surprised

than him.

He'd expected to fail. Expected to die, and die horribly. Instead, he'd overthrown an

empire that had lasted well over a millennium, deposed its ruler and destroyed her

throne, and seen the end of practically every social and political structure he believed

in. And that was when the problems had really begun.

Lionstone's body was barely cold before the vultures began descending. Even while the

last battles were being fought, the various parts of the rebel force had begun arguing

fiercely with each other over what exactly should replace the old system. Even those

few who'd been there at the end couldn't bring themselves to agree. Owen had wanted

things to stay much as they were, with some political reforms and injustices punished.

Hazel had wanted it all torn down, with war trials for all the Families, for crimes

against Humanity. Jack Random insisted on democracy for all, including all clones and

espers and other unpeople. Ruby Journey wanted the loot she'd been promised.

They were soon joined in the Court by representatives of the clone and esper

undergrounds, fringe political groups of all shapes and shades, and more religious

factions than you could shake a stick at. All of them intent on having their own way.

Luckily, they were all too tired to start another war just yet. The argument became a

deadlock, and everyone stamped off in different directions to plot and plan anew. For

the moment Parliament was running the day-to-day business of Empire, on the grounds

that somebody had to, and they at least had some experience in the area. No one trusted

them an inch, but there was nothing new there.

Men and women who had once been allies, sworn to defend each other to the death and

beyond, now fought each other viciously over points of dogma and precedence. Owen

supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. He was a historian, after all. All the various

rebel factions had ever really had in common was a shared enemy. And though they all

bandied around words like justice and liberty, they meant very different things to

different people.

And then there was the deal Random had made, in the midst of the most desperate

fighting, to depose but not destroy the aristocratic Families. Faced with an increasingly

victorious army calling for their collective blood, the great Houses had banded together

and offered to step down from power and privilege, in return for being allowed to

survive as purely economic forces. That was the carrot. The stick was their threat to

destroy the economic base of the whole Empire, and crash every civilized world back to

barbarism. No one doubted they were quite capable of doing it. And so Random had

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made the deal, to save the lives of billions, but no one thanked him for it. The man in

the street was cheated of his revenge, the rebels accused their beloved hero of selling

out his political convictions, and the Families hated him for the loss of their precious

nobility. Afterward, Random had to hire a secretary just to deal with all the hate mail

and death threats.

As if the situation wasn't complicated enough, Blue Block had emerged from the

shadows to unite and control the Families and scare the crap out of everyone else. Blue

Block had been the Families' secret weapon, a last-ditch defense to be used against the

Empress if she ever seriously threatened the Clans' power and status. The youngest sons

and daughters of each House were given to Blue Block, trained and conditioned to be

loyal to the Families to the death and beyond. Unfortunately, Blue Block turned out to

have an agenda of its own.

In their hidden schools, faceless and nameless instructors taught the younger sons and

daughters, none of whom would have inherited title or wealth anyway, that the Families

as a class were far more important than any one House. And that loyalty to Blue Block

therefore superceded any loyalty to individual Clans. They taught their charges other

things too, some of them unspeakable, but that still remained a secret. For the moment.

They were the ones who had come up with the deal to put to Jack Random, and now

that they had emerged unblinking into the harsh light of public view, they were the ones

who enforced it. The Clans saw what they had unknowingly created and were afraid.

And so they all bowed down to Blue Block, and kept their rage and plans for bloody

revenge to themselves.

Owen, Hazel, Jack, and Ruby were united in their horror of the Pandora's box of

troubles they'd opened, but couldn't decide what to do about it. Random rushed from

one meeting to another, desperately trying to keep a lid on things. It helped that most

people were at least willing to listen to him. Everyone respected the legendary Jack

Random. Even if they hated his guts. He spent the rest of his time trying to rebuild the

very armed forces he'd just finished fighting, in case of attacks by the Empire's many

enemies. The rogue AIs of Shub, the reborn Hadenmen, and any number of potential

alien threats were all quite capable of launching an attack upon an Empire distracted by

internal divisions.

Ruby Journey meanwhile took every opportunity to loot anyone weaker than her,

including several corporations, and lost no time in setting herself up in the kind of

luxury she'd always wanted to become accustomed to. She had no interest in politics. If

you couldn't hit or rob something, Ruby was mostly lost for an alternative. So she

stayed out of the ongoing negotiations, and everyone else heaved a great sigh of relief.

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And Owen and Hazel had become bounty hunters, tracking down escaped war

criminals. Officially, they were supposed to bring the villains back to face public trial,

but privately it had been agreed on all sides it would be better if certain parties were

killed while trying to escape. Owen and Hazel had nodded solemnly when this was

explained to them, and decided they'd make up their own minds on the subject, as and

when necessary. If there was ever to be any hope of stability in the new order Jack was

trying to hammer together, the truly evil had to be punished, and seen to be punished.

People like Valentine Wolfe, for example, despised right hand of the Empress and

butcher of Virimonde. You couldn't send just anybody after a dangerous and subtle

villain like the Wolfe, so that was where Owen Deathstalker and Hazel d'Ark came in.

They were, after all, the most dangerous people the Empire had ever seen.

All Owen had ever really wanted was his old life back, but almost from the moment the

rebellion was officially declared triumphant, it seemed to him that everyone and his

brother had begun fighting for a chance to grab a piece of the legendary Deathstalker

hero. Every political party wanted him as its figurehead. Every cause sent

representatives requiring he attach his name and his blade to their demands. Sometimes

they even fought duels outside his quarters over who got to speak to him first.

Then there were the holo news networks wanting endless interviews, and agents

wanting to buy exclusive rights to his life story. They all wanted pictures and quotes

and answers to increasingly personal questions. Not to mention product endorsements

and book deals and merchandising rights. Hell, one company even wanted to

manufacture a line of action figures based on him and Hazel and Jack and Ruby. Owen

just wanted to be left alone, and said so increasingly loudly, but no one listened. So in

the end he had fled Golgotha on the Sunstrider II, on what turned out to be the first of

many missions as a glorified bounty hunter, licensed and paid by Parliament to clear up

the Empire's more dangerous messes.

Hazel was there too. She said she had just come along to get a little action to keep

herself from getting soft, but Owen liked to think she was just bored spitless without an

enemy to fight. Though it had to be said she'd never been one to sit around and

contemplate the lilies of the field, and settling down to a peaceful and productive life

was exactly what she'd become an outlaw to avoid. She couldn't even get drunk and

start fights in bars anymore. Everyone knew who she was, and was scared witless to say

anything that might upset her. So when Random had offered her a commission to track

down and possibly execute missing war criminals, she'd jumped at the chance, and

wasted no time in persuading Owen to join her. Even if she seemed to remember it the

other way around. But then, that was Hazel for you. Never happier than when she could

lay the blame on someone else.

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"We just dropped out of hyperspace over Virimonde," murmured the AI Ozymandius in

Owen's ear. "Currently maintaining high orbit and all shields. I really don't know why

you wanted to come back here, Owen. I mean, it's not as if you have any friends here

anymore. In fact, I would have to say that the likelihood of our all ending up riddled

with holes increases geometrically with every second we are dumb enough to stay

here."

"Nag, nag, nag," said Owen, subvocalizing so Hazel wouldn't hear. She didn't approve

of him talking to an AI that was supposed to be dead and no one else could hear. "You

never want to go anywhere fun, Oz. This is where our current quarry has gone to

ground, so here we are too. Right now Valentine Wolfe is down there somewhere,

along with certain aristocratic cronies, all of whom the current authorities would dearly

like to see standing in a dock or hanging from a rope. And preferably both. Besides… I

always said that one day I'd come home to Virimonde."

There had been a time when Owen Deathstalker had been Lord of the whole planet of

Virimonde. And then the Empress Lionstone had outlawed him and taken it all away.

His own security people had tried to kill him for the reward on his head, and he'd had to

flee for his life. He nearly hadn't made it. But Hazel had arrived at just the right

moment to save his aristocratic ass, as she never tired of reminding him, and they'd

been together ever since. He fell in love with her. He still wasn't sure how she felt about

him. His cousin David had been made Lord in his absence, but he died not long after,

trying to defend the planet from Lionstone's troops, led by Valentine Wolfe. The Wolfe

had overseen the murder of millions of defenseless people, and the utter destruction of

what had been a beautiful rural paradise.

And now Valentine had returned, like a criminal to the scene of his crime, or a dog to

its own droppings, and Owen had come back too, to bring belated justice to the

destroyer of Virimonde. One way or another.

He sighed quietly to himself. Through all his rebel wanderings, he'd always clung to the

secret hope that someday he would be able to return home and take up his old life again

as a minor historian of no real importance to anyone but himself. But he'd changed so

much, in so many ways, till he wasn't sure, he recognized himself anymore. And given

the reports he'd seen of the utter devastation awaiting him below, he wasn't even sure

there was a home left to return to.

"Run sensor scan," he subvocalized to his AI. "Locate my old Standing and see what

kind of force they've got protecting it."

"Way ahead of you as usual," sniffed the AI. "There's a fair-sized army surrounding the

castle, which according to the comm traffic I'm picking up, Valentine and his associates

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are currently occupying. Typical. Nothing but the best for dear Valentine. And

according to the information we were given before we left Golgotha, which I'll wager

good money you haven't even looked at, there's also a hell of a lot of scientific

equipment down there, along with scientists to run it. Though no one seems to know

what or why."

"Don't get uppity, Oz. Just tell me what I need to know."

"Bully."

Owen wasn't quite sure where he stood with Oz. The original Ozymandius had been the

Family AI, handed down to Owen from his deceased father. It turned out to contain

hidden Empire programming, and had acted as a spy for Lionstone before finally

turning on Owen and trying to enslave him with control words it had placed in his

subconscious. Owen had had no choice but to use his Maze-given powers to destroy the

AI. Only sometime later Oz came back. Or a voice in his head that only he could hear,

claiming to be the AI Ozymandius. Certainly it was just as knowledgeable and irritating

as the original. Owen had accepted the situation for the time being, for as long as the AI

remained useful. And because he hadn't the faintest idea how to get rid of the voice

anyway.

Besides, he'd missed Oz.

"So, do I start the descent or not?" said Oz briskly. "We're fully cloaked, but there's no

telling how long even Hadenman shields will hold up against the security systems

Valentine's installed here. What used to be standard weather-control satellites have been

upgraded with really heavy-duty sensors and more weaponry than your average Fleet

cruiser. When the Wolfe says Do Not Disturb, he means it."

"Maintain orbit," Owen said firmly. "I want a really good idea of what to expect

dirtside before I commit us to a landing. Scan the area surrounding the Standing, ten-

mile radius, and report on the local population's situation."

"Owen… I've already done that. There is no local population anymore."

"What?"

"I've scanned the surrounding areas to the limit of my sensors. There isn't a single living

soul outside of the Standing for hundreds of miles. I'm sorry, Owen."

Owen shook his head slowly. He'd read the reports on Valentine's destruction of

Virimonde, watched Toby Shreck's filmed coverage, seen interviews with the few

survivors to get off-planet, but he'd always assumed they were exaggerated. No one

could oversee the murder of a whole planet's population just for the fun of it. Not even

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Valentine Wolfe. Deep down, part of him had desperately wanted to return home to the

cheers of his people, overjoyed to have their rightful Lord back at last. He'd wanted to

apologize for not being there to protect them. Wanted to promise them that things

would be different now he was back. He'd keep them safe, protect them, guard them

from all harm. They'd never be hurt again because he was off somewhere else being a

hero of the rebellion. There was so much he'd wanted, needed, to say. He hadn't wanted

to believe that all his people were dead.

"What's the matter?" said Hazel. "Is there a problem?"

"No," said Owen. "I was just thinking. About the way things used to be here."

"Don't," said Hazel. "That's always been your problem, Deathstalker. Always living in

the past."

"I understand the past," said Owen. "Things were simpler then. I understood my world

and my Empire and my place in it. Or I thought I did. Since then I've seen the

destruction of everything I ever believed in, lost everything I ever cared for, and now to

top it all, I find I can't go home again. Because Valentine Wolfe burned it all down and

pissed on the ashes. Virimonde is dead."

"We can't know that for sure till we get down there and check for ourselves," said

Hazel. "Reports can be exaggerated; sensors can be mistaken. It's a big world, Owen.

He can't have killed everything."

"And if he has? If he's done everything he's supposed to have done?"

"Then we cut his black heart out, throw it on the ground, and stamp on it. And the same

for everyone with him."

Owen had to smile slightly. "Life's always been so simple for you, hasn't it. Hazel?

Good guys and bad guys, and a direct, forceful answer to every problem. But you heard

the man at the briefing. There are still powers that be who want Valentine brought back

alive for a show trial. If only because they could sell holo rights for a small fortune."

"I keep up with things," said Hazel. "And for every faction that wants the Wolfe

brought back alive, I'll bet I can name ten who'd very much rather he came back with

flies buzzing around him. Not least the clone and esper undergrounds. If word ever gets

out that Valentine Wolfe had once been an active part and supporter of the

undergrounds, they'd lose what little public support and popularity they have. And on

top of that, there are any number of people who struck questionable deals with him in

the past, and don't want it coming out now they've re-created themselves as pure-

hearted supporters of the rebellion."

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"And that's why we're going to bring the bastard back alive," Owen said firmly. "Not

necessarily in one piece, but definitely alive. I'm no man's puppet, and no organization's

either. I need to send a signal that no one pressures me. And I won't kill him just

because I want to."

"You and your damned conscience," said Hazel. "All right, so we try to take him alive.

What about his supporters?"

"Massacre the lot, for all I care."

"Now you're talking," said Hazel.

Owen leaned back in his chair, interlocked his fingers before him, and stared at them

thoughtfully. "He wasn't always a monster, you know. Valentine. We were children

together, moved in the same circles, went to the same parties. He seemed quite…

normal then. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign then of the psychopath he became.

Just another kid, perhaps a little quieter than most. Much like me. We were never

actually friends, but I can remember good times we had together. And then we went our

different ways, to be trained as a Wolfe and a Deathstalker, and I didn't see him again

for years. And sometimes I find myself wondering how two such similar children

became such different adults."

"People change," said Hazel. "Whether they want to or not. Life writes our scripts, and

we just get to ad lib now and again."

Owen looked at her. "Why, Hazel, that was almost profound."

"Don't you patronize me, Deathstalker. I have a mind. I have read the occasional book

in my time. When there was nothing else to do. I just meant that even while we're busy

changing the universe, it's busy changing us. Look at you; you're not the person you

used to be, even a few years ago. Thank God. The Owen Deathstalker I saved from

certain death down below is a very different man from the official hero who toppled an

empire."

"I know," said Owen. "That bothers me."

"Don't worry about it," said Hazel. "He really was a stuck-up little prig."

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you stick with him?"

Hazel smiled. "I thought I saw potential in him."

Owen's mouth twitched. "I thought much the same about you." And then he frowned

again.

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"Oh, hell, Owen, now what? I swear, you know more ways to depress yourself than

anyone I've ever met."

"I was just thinking about Finlay Campbell. We should have included him on this trip."

"We've been through this, Owen. The man is obsessed. He's sworn a vendetta against

Valentine. Sworn to kill the man, on his blood and on his honor. If we're to keep our

options open down there, we can't afford to have the Campbell anywhere near us. He's

always been… erratic. They tried using him as a bounty hunter, but he always brought

them back dead. Sometimes in pieces. Last I heard, his girlfriend, Evangeline, was

trying to get him interested in politics. God help Parliament, that's all I have to say."

"He fought beside us. He was a hero of the rebellion, just like us. And Valentine wiped

out his whole Family. It doesn't feel right, keeping this from him."

"Owen, we hardly know the man. You're the one who wants to bring Valentine in alive.

If the Campbell were here…"

"Yes, I know. But if we're keeping secrets from people who are supposed to be our

comrades, what might they be keeping from us?"

"Hell," said Hazel lightly. "Everyone's got secrets."

She realized how that sounded only after she'd said it, and she held her breath a moment

before Owen grunted and turned away to study the sensor readings on the main display

screen. Hazel let her breath out slowly, so Owen wouldn't hear it, and tried to relax.

There were still things she was keeping from Owen, partly because she didn't want him

getting upset, and partly because she still believed in keeping her own business to

herself. Ever since she'd first passed through the Madness Maze on the Wolfling World

and been changed forever, she'd been having problems with dreams. To begin with,

they had been just disturbing images, but more and more these days the dreams

persisted into her waking world, and she couldn't push aside the thought that they meant

something. Something important. She was dreaming every night now, clear and

distinct, and she couldn't tell if she was seeing the past or the future. It was as though

Time was unraveling in her head, in the darkest hours of the night, when her defenses

were at their weakest. Something in her mind was showing her things, and wouldn't let

her look away.

While on Mistworld, she'd dreamed of the Empire invasion hours before it actually

happened.

Last night there had been three dreams, one after the other. First she dreamed of the

Blood Runners, the evil inhabitants of the dark Obeah worlds, far out on the Rim where

no one ever went, who'd once tried to kidnap her for their never ending experiments

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