Simon R. Green - Deathstalker - 5 - Deathstalker Destiny

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Simon R. Green - Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny
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Deathstalker Destiny by Simon
R. Green
Owen Deathstalker: "I've always known I've been living on borrowed time."
Hazel d'Ark: "I never said I loved you, Owen."
Jack Randon: "Politicians. They're all dirty. Hang them all."
Ruby Journey: "Peace was just a dream."
Prophecy of a young esper: "I see you, Deathstalker. Destiny has you in its clutches, struggle how you
may. You will tumble an Empire, see the end of everything you ever believed in, and you'll do it all for a
love you'll never know. And when it's over, you'll die alone, far from friends and succour."
This is the end of the story. And it starts now.
CHAPTER ONE
Blood Debt
It was still raining on Lachrymae Christi. The tears of God. Owen Deathstalker hadn't shed a single tear
since the Blood Runners abducted Hazel d'Ark. To cry would be to give in to his fear and desperation,
and he couldn't afford to be weak. He had to be strong, ready to seize any chance that might get him off
this damned planet and onto Hazel's trail. He had to be strong, for her. So he put a lid on his despair, and
clamped it down hard with never-ending work, and never once allowed himself to entertain the possibility
that Hazel d'Ark might already be dead.
It had been two weeks since Hazel was taken, and Owen had hardly slept since. He sat exhausted on the
bare ground of the Mission compound, head hanging forward, sweat dripping off his face. He'd been
working hard since first light, distracting himself with the simple everyday problems of rebuilding the
devastated Mission, but he was only human, these days, and his body would only take so much
punishment before forcing him to rest. And then he would sit, and brood, and squeeze his eyes shut
against the visions his mind conjured up of what the Blood Runners might be doing to Hazel, until he
couldn't stand it anymore, and would dive back into the distraction of work, whether he was ready or not.
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A leper approached him hesitantly, anonymous in the usual gray cloak and pulled-forward hood. He
offered Owen a cup of wine, in a gray gloved hand that only shook a little. Owen accepted it with a nod,
and the leper backed quickly away, bowing respectfully. The Mission's surviving lepers had seen Owen
blow away an army of attacking Grendels, like leaves in a scorching breeze, all by the power of his mind.
They had seen him stand against overwhelming forces, and refuse to retreat. He was their savior, and they
were all very much in awe of him.
They didn't know he was only human now. They didn't know he'd burned out all his Maze-given powers,
to save them.
"You've got to slow down, Owen," Oz murmured softly in his ear. The AI sounded distinctly worried.
"You can't keep pushing yourself like this. You're killing yourself."
"The work has to be done," said Owen, subvocalizing so those still working around him wouldn't hear.
"The Hadenmen and the Grendels knocked the shit out of this place. Half the wall's down, most of the
buildings are leaning on each other for support, and the roofs leaking in a hundred places. The lepers can't
do it on their own. A lot of them belong in sickbeds anyway."
"That's not why you're doing it," said Oz. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. All this hard work and
toil, working till you drop; it's not for them, for the Mission. You're punishing yourself, for letting the
Blood Runners take Hazel."
"I wasn't there, when she needed me," said Owen, staring at the ground between his feet. "If I had been,
maybe I could have done… something…"
"You'd lost your powers. You were just a man. There was nothing you could have done."
"Work is good," said Owen. "Simple problems, with simple solutions. It keeps me from thinking, from
remembering. If I stop to think and remember, I'll go mad."
"Owen…"
"They've had her two weeks now. Fourteen days and nights, in the Obeah Systems, on the other side of
the Empire, to torture and torment her as it pleases them. And I'm trapped here, with no powers, and not
even a hope of a ship to get me offplanet so I can go after her. They could have done a lot, in fourteen
days and nights."
When the Blood Runners first took Hazel, Owen did go crazy, for a while. He wouldn't eat or sleep for
days, stalking blindly round the ruined Mission as the terrorized lepers scattered to get out of his way. He
screamed and ranted and called Hazel's name, making horrible threats and howling like an animal in pain.
In the end, he grew weak enough that Sister Marion was able to wrestle him to the ground and hold him
down, while Mother Beatrice injected him with industrial-strength sedatives. His dreams then were vague,
horrible things, and when he woke up, they'd strapped him to a bed in the Mission infirmary.
He'd worn out his voice with screaming and ranting, but he still cursed them all in a harsh, rasping voice,
while Moon sat quietly at his side, giving what comfort he could. It was some time before Owen got
control of himself again, exhausted physically and emotionally. But he never cried. Mother Beatrice came
to see him often, and offered him the comfort of her God, but he wouldn't take it. There was no room in
his cold heart now for anything but rescue or revenge.
When they finally let him up again, he spent the best part of a day in the Mission comm center, calling for
a ship to come and pick him up. Any ship. He used every bit of authority he had, pulled every string,
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called in every favor he could think of, threatened and pleaded and bribed, and none of it did any good.
There was a war on. Actually, there were several wars, going on simultaneously. The Empire was under
attack by the Hadenmen, Shub, Grendels, the insect aliens, and the threat of the Recreated. Owen just
wasn't important enough anymore to be worth diverting a precious ship to far-off Lachrymae Christi. He'd
just have to wait.
Owen would have wrecked the whole damned comm center, if Mother Beatrice hadn't been there, her
eyes full of compassion. So instead, he stalked out and buried himself in the rebuilding of the Mission. It
helped that there was a lot that needed doing. He made himself eat and drink at regular intervals, because
if he didn't Mother Beatrice or Sister Marion stood over him till he did. When it grew too dark to work, he
lay down on his bed and pretended to sleep, waiting with empty heart for it to be light again.
The rebuilding was slow and hard work now that his powers were gone, burned out in his last stand
against the Grendels. He was no stronger or faster than any other man now, and all his other abilities were
lost to him, like the words of an old song he could no longer quite recall. Sometimes, in the long endless
hours of the night, it seemed to him that something was stirring deep within him, but it never surfaced,
and when morning finally came, it found him still just a man.
So he spent his days working alongside the more able-bodied lepers, raising the high wall again segment
by segment, and in its way the work comforted him, working as a man among men again, a part of
Humanity instead of someone thrust outside it. To be just a part of a group, instead of its leader. It felt
good to lose himself in mindless, repetitious work, and to have achieved something definite by the end of
the day. But most of the real work was coming to an end. A few more days, and the Mission would be
complete again, and all that would be left was scrabbling about on the sloping roof fixing leaks, and other
small stuff. Owen didn't know what he'd do then.
He drank the wine the leper had brought him, too tired even to grimace at the bitter taste. They'd been
putting strychnine in it again, to give it a bit more bite.
"She could be anywhere," he said quietly, knowing he was tormenting himself, but unable to stop.
"Anywhere in the Obeah Systems. I've never been there. Don't know anyone who has. I don't even know
which planet they've got her on. They could be doing anything to her. Everyone knows the Blood
Runners' reputation. They've made an art of suffering and a science of slaughter. She could be dying, right
now, and there's nothing the great and almighty Owen Deathstalker can do to save her."
"This isn't doing you any good, Owen," said Oz. "She's dead. She must be, by now. Grieve, and let her
go—"
"I can't."
"Then be patient. A ship will come, eventually."
"I love her, Oz. I would have died, to save her from them."
"Of course you would have."
"Oh, God…"
"Hush, Owen. Hush."
Sudden screams jerked Owen's head up, and he was up and on his feet in a moment, casting the wine cup
aside, as he saw one section of the newly erected wall break free from its ties and lean ponderously
forward, over the dozen or so lepers beneath it. The segment weighed several tons, and the safety ropes
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that should have stopped or slowed its fall were snapping one after the other, like a series of firecrackers.
The lepers turned to run, but it was obvious they weren't going to make it out from under the wall before
the segment came crashing down like a hammer.
Owen subvocalized his old code word boost, and new strength and speed burned in his muscles as he
raced toward the falling wall. Everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion as the gengineered
gift of the Deathstalker Clan kicked in, making Owen briefly superhuman again. He reached the falling
wall in seconds, and grasped the last intact safety rope with both hands. His fingers closed like steel
clamps around the thick cable and held it firmly as it snapped taut. The lepers ran slowly past Owen as he
held the rope, snarling furiously as the rough hemp tore slowly through his grasp, ripping away the flesh
of his palms and fingers. Blood ran down his wrists. And then the rope snapped, like all the others.
Owen could have jumped back and saved himself. Most of the lepers were out. But some were still caught
in the wall's growing shadow. Owen looked around and spotted a half tree-trunk lying on its side, waiting
to be trimmed into planks. It had to weigh at least half a ton, but Owen lifted it off the ground with one
explosive grunt, swung it around and moved steadily forward to block the end against the falling wall
segment. The weight hit the trunk hard, splitting it halfway down its length, but the improvised wedge
held, and the wall segment stopped. Its weight pressed on, driving the tree trunk into the soft earth of the
compound floor, and the split lengthened inch by inch. Owen threw his arms around the tree trunk and
hugged it to him, holding it together despite all the weight of the wall could do. His arms shrieked with
pain, and he was fighting for breath, but still he held the wedge together.
Sweat poured down his face again. His back was ablaze with the pain of abused muscles. He risked a look
over his shoulder, and saw that the last few lepers were almost clear. He only had to hang on for a few
more seconds. The splitting wood twisted in his grip like a live thing, spiteful and resentful, the rough
bark scraping and tearing his skin. And then Moon called to him that the last of the lepers were clear, and
Owen let go the tree trunk and ran for his life. The trunk split in half in a second, and the wall segment
came down like the crack of doom, missing Owen's departing heels by inches.
He staggered on a few more steps and then sat down suddenly, all his strength and his breath going out of
him as he shut down the boost. Time crashed back to normal about him, and suddenly lepers were running
at him from all directions, cheering his last-minute rescue. The Hadenman Moon was quickly there at
Owen's side to protect him from being overwhelmed, but for a moment it seemed hands were coming at
him from everywhere at once, clapping him on the back or trying to shake his hand. He smiled and
nodded, and tried to look as though it had been nothing. They didn't know he wasn't a superhuman
anymore. No one did for sure, except Moon, who still had all his powers.
Eventually the lepers grew tired of telling Owen how great he was, and they drifted back to work again. A
squad of the hardier workers set about raising the collapsed wall segment back into place again, and
hammered long nails in from every angle to make sure the bloody thing stayed put this time. Moon sat
down beside Owen.
"You know, I could have got there in time. And my augmented muscles were far better suited to
supporting such a weight."
"But you didn't get there. Besides, I like to feel useful."
"How are your hands and arms?"
Owen carefully didn't look at them. "They hurt like hell, but they're already healing. Part of the boost's
benefits."
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"You can't keep pretending you're still superhuman, Owen. Boost can only do so much. And you know
what the aftereffects do to you."
"I can't just stand by, Tobias. I never could."
"Even if it kills you?"
"Don't you have some work to do, Moon?"
"Are you going to be all right?"
"Go away, Tobias. Please."
The Hadenman nodded once, rose smoothly to his feet, and walked unhurriedly away. Owen sighed,
slowly. No one must know how far he'd fallen, from what he was. He couldn't have coped with pity, on
top of everything else. And Owen Deathstalker had made a great many enemies in his time. He couldn't
afford word to get out that he was… vulnerable.
"Moon's right, you know," said Oz.
"And you can shut up too."
"Watch your temper. And your language. Saint Bea's coming over."
Owen raised his aching head, and his heart sank just a little more as he saw Mother Superior Beatrice
bearing down on him, her simple nun's robes flapping about her like a ship under full sail. Saint Bea
meant well, she always did, but he was in no mood for a lecture, however compassionate. He started to
get up, but Mother Beatrice waved him back with an imperious gesture, and Owen's muscles obeyed
before he realized what he was doing. Saint Bea had that effect on people. She gathered up her robes and
sat down beside him, and then surprised Owen by not immediately tearing into him. Instead, she sat
quietly beside him for a while, looking at nothing in particular, humming something vague and wistful
half under her breath. Owen found himself relaxing a little, in spite of himself.
"You know," she said finally, "you really do look like shit, Deathstalker. I spend my days nursing the sick
and the dying, and I know shit when I see it. Your weight's way down, and your face shows more bone
than anything else. And your eyes are so deep set they look like piss holes in the snow. I'm worried about
you, Owen. There are dying men here who look better than you."
Owen smiled slightly. "Don't hold back, Bea. Tell me what you really think."
Mother Beatrice shook her head slowly. "You're like a child, Owen; you know that? You don't hear a
damned thing you don't want to. Still, you did look really impressive just then. Thanks for being the hero,
one more time. Now why not take a few hours off? Get some rest."
"I can't rest," said Owen.
"Do you sleep, at all?"
"Sometimes. I have bad dreams."
"I could give you something to make you sleep."
"I have bad dreams."
Mother Beatrice changed tack. "I have some good news for you, at last. The comm center just reported
contact with an Imperial courier ship on its way here. They commandeered our Church supply ship, just to
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get to you. Somebody out there still believes in you. Try and hold yourself together till they arrive. I don't
want this Mission to be remembered as the place where the great Owen Deathstalker moped himself to
death."
Owen smiled briefly. "I promise. I've been waiting for a ship."
"Hazel may already be dead," Mother Beatrice said quietly. "You have to consider the possibility, Owen."
"No I don't."
"Even if you find where the Blood Runners took her, there may be nothing left for you to do."
"There's always revenge," said Owen.
Something in his voice made Saint Bea shiver despite herself. She nodded briefly, got to her feet with a
grunt, and walked away. There were some things even a saint had no answers for. Owen watched her go,
and behind his composed features his mind was churning. A courier ship meant a message from
Parliament. They must need him for something urgent. Something too difficult or too dangerous for
anyone else. But once he was on a ship, and safely offplanet, he was heading straight for the Obeah
Systems, and to hell with whatever Parliament wanted. His mental abilities were gone, including his link
with Hazel, but he still knew where to go to find the Obeah Systems. Once before, he'd reached out across
uncountable space, to mentally locate and kill the Blood Runner called Scour, and he still remembered
where his mind had gone. He only had to concentrate and he could feel the path to the Blood Runner
homeworld stretching away before him, calling him on. All he needed was a ship. If Hazel was still alive,
he would rescue her, and he would make the Blood Runners pay in blood and fire for taking her. And if
she was dead…
He would set the whole damned Obeah Systems afire, to blaze forever in the dark as Hazel's funeral pyre.
Outside the Mission, the scarlet and crimson jungle flourished. Black-barked trees rose up from a sea of
constantly moving vegetation, all of it blushing various shades of red, from shining purples to
disturbingly organic pinks. The jungle on Lachrymae Christi was more than usually alive, and varyingly
sentient, and spent most of its time warring on itself (except in the rutting season), but all the barbs and
thorns drew back as Tobias Moon walked among them. He was their one true beloved and friend, the only
one in the Mission who could make mental contact with the single great consciousness of the whole
planet's ecosystem: the Red Brain. Which would have been enough to make practically anyone somewhat
big-headed; but Moon was a Hadenman, and a survivor of the Madness Maze, and so he took it in his
stride. If he thought about it at all, he thought of himself as a gardener, on a somewhat larger than usual
scale.
At the moment, he was overseeing the felling of trees, to provide much needed lumber for the Mission
repairs. The Red Brain had given the human community permission to take what was needed, and did
what it could to make the job easier by pulling back the more dangerous and obstructive vegetation in the
area. Moon oversaw as much of the felling as possible, just in case of misunderstandings, but so far
everything was going smoothly. He consulted with the Red Brain, gave the orders on where the trees were
to be taken from, and Sister Marion stalked stiff-leggedly back and forth, making sure his instructions
were followed to the letter. No one argued with Sister Marion. A Sister of Glory, a warrior nun, and a
complete bloody psychopath, her stick-thin figure was seemingly everywhere at once. Striding about in
her long black dress of tatters and emerald evening gloves, she made a formidable figure, and she knew it.
Her face was hidden under stark white makeup, with rouged cheeks and emerald lips, and she topped it all
off with a tall black witch's hat, complete with flapping purple streamers. Let a leper shirk his work, or try
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to sneak off for a quiet sit-down and a crafty smoke, and within seconds Sister Marion's harsh voice
would be blaring right in his ear, driving him back to work with terrible oaths and blasphemies. Somehow
they sounded so much more convincing when they came from a nun.
Felling the tall wide trees took a lot of time and hard work, made even more miserable by the constant
falling rain, but the great dark trees still went crashing to the ground with slow regularity. No one knew if
the Grendels or the Hadenmen might come again, but everyone knew they'd all feel much more secure
when the Mission was whole again. So the lepers toiled in the pouring rain, day after day, and the trees
came crashing down. The red-leafed branches were laboriously cut away, and then the surrounding
vegetation would move in to pick up and transport the massively heavy tree trunks to where they were
needed. The Red Brain was almost pathetically eager to be of use to its new friends. It had been alone for
so very long, until Moon established contact with it.
Owen made his way through the scarlet and crimson jungle to join Moon. He looked intent and thoughtful
and didn't seem to even notice the pouring rain. The lepers nodded and bowed as he passed, and turned to
watch him go. There was new strength and purpose in him, and they could sense it. So could Moon. He
fixed Owen with his faintly glowing golden eyes and raised a single eyebrow.
"I take it a ship of some sort is on its way?"
"Got it in one, Tobias. Be here early tomorrow. I need you to do something for me."
"If I can. What did you have in mind?"
"Go back through the jungle to where we first crash-landed, find the wreck of the Sunstrider II, remove
the stardrive, and bring it back here."
Moon lowered his eyebrow, and thought about this. "You have a use for a disconnected stardrive?"
"Oh yes. The Sunstrider II was fitted with the new alien-derived stardrive. Whatever ship I put that drive
into will be one of the fastest ships in the Empire. And I'm going to need that edge, to get to Hazel in
time. Do it for me, Tobias. I need this."
"When do you want me to start out?"
"Right now would be good."
Moon considered the matter. All work had stopped as the lepers listened to see what he would say. Moon
finally shrugged. He hadn't quite got the gesture right yet, but it was recognizable. "The tree felling is
pretty much finished. My people can finish up on their own. Very well; I'll put together a small party, and
go get you your stardrive, Owen. But please understand; when you leave here, you go alone. I share your
concern for Hazel, but I cannot abandon the people here. I am their only link with the Red Brain, at
present. I have… responsibilities here."
"It's all right," said Owen. "I understand. I've always understood duty."
They smiled at each other, both understanding this might be the last time they were ever together. The
lepers slowly got back to work, for once not driven by a tongue lashing from Sister Marion. Owen looked
about for her, and finally discovered her sitting on a tree stump, staring tiredly down at the ground, her
hands neatly together in her lap. Her shoulders were bowed as though by some great weight, and her head
hung down as though it were too heavy for her neck muscles to support. Even the ribbons from her hat
were hanging limply down.
"She doesn't look too good," said Owen.
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"She's dying," said Moon. "She's in the last stages of the disease, and her strength is leaking out of her day
by day."
"I didn't know," said Owen, honestly shocked. It was hard to think of the invincible warrior nun being
beaten by anything less than a sword thrust or a disrupter bolt. He knew she was a leper, but he'd always
vaguely thought she was too stubborn to give in to it. "How long has she been like this?"
"Some time now. Don't feel bad for not noticing. You had your own problems. There was nothing you
could have done, anyway. It's just her time. Leprosy is a one hundred percent fatal disease. No one gets
out alive. She insists on helping out here, making the most of what's left of her life before she has to be
confined to the infirmary for her last days. She'll hate that. Just lying around, unable to interfere in
everyone else's life. I asked her if she'd made her peace with God, and she just laughed, and said We never
quarreled. I think I'll take her with me, when we go to get the Sunstrider II. One last adventure for her."
"Why, Tobias," said Owen. "I do believe you're growing sentimental."
"I'm working on it," said the Hadenman.
The trip through the jungle to the crashed starship went much more easily than the original trip from the
crash to the Mission. This time the crimson vegetation writhed back out of their way, forming a wide path
for Moon and Sister Marion, and the half dozen lepers they'd brought along to fetch and carry as
necessary. The rain was coming straight down and hard, soaking the lepers' gray robes, and plastering
Sister Marion's purple streamers to the side of her hat. Moon wasn't bothered at all by the constant
lukewarm rain, but had enough sense by now to keep such comments to himself. He linked briefly with
the Red Brain, and wide purple palm leaves stretched out over the trail to deflect some of the rain. The
ground squelched underfoot, and collecting rainwater squelched inside everyone's boots. Nobody had
much to say. If the Deathstalker himself hadn't asked for this expedition, even the presence of Moon and
Sister Marion couldn't have kept the lepers from rebelling and turning back, but the lepers would do
anything for Owen.
Owen himself was back at the Mission. He wanted to be there on the landing pad the moment the courier
ship touched down.
Sister Marion lurched suddenly as the muddy ground gave under her boots. Moon put out a helping hand,
and then quickly withdrew it as the Sister glared at him, mopping at her face for the hundredth time with a
tattered handkerchief from her tattered sleeve.
"Hate the jungle. Trees black as coal and plants the color of blood and organs. And it stinks too."
"Rotting vegetation on the ground produces the mulch from which new life arises," said Moon.
Sister Marion snorted. "Yeah. Even the prettiest rose has its roots in shit. I've always known that. Rain
and stink and a jungle that looks like a living abattoir. No wonder we were sent here; no one else would
have wanted this place."
"We're almost at the crash site," said Moon. "Not much further now."
"Did I ask?" snapped Sister Marion.
"I thought you might like to know. It's in the clearing, right ahead."
"Hate the rain," growled the nun, looking at the ground. "Never liked rain."
When they finally entered the clearing, everyone stopped just inside the boundary. After a certain amount
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of confused peering about, the lepers turned a hard look on Moon. The clearing was just like all the others
they'd already slogged through, overrun with crimson and scarlet vegetation, with no sign anywhere of a
crashed starship. Sister Marion turned ominously, slowly to Moon.
"If you're about to announce that you're lost, I may find it necessary to kick your augmented backside up
around your ears till your insides rattle, for the good of your soul."
"No need to put yourself out," said Moon. "This is the place. We cannot see the ship because the jungle
has swallowed it."
"Let's just hope it hasn't bloody digested it as well." Sister Marion broke off suddenly. She started to raise
a hand to her head, and then stopped herself deliberately. The gloved hand was clearly shaking, but no
one commented.
"It's going to take a while to retrieve the ship," said Moon carefully. "Why don't you find somewhere
relatively dry and sit down for a while, Sister? You're tired."
"I'm dying, Hadenman. I'm always tired." She shook her head slowly, and sat down carefully on a half-
rotten tree trunk. Moon gestured at the other lepers, and they moved away to give him and the Sister a
little privacy. The nun sighed quietly. "What is the world coming to when the only person I've got to talk
to is a bloody Hadenman? Mother Beatrice is too busy, the Deathstalker's got his own problems, and the
other lepers… are too afraid of me. So that just leaves you."
"You can always talk to me," said Moon. "All the information I have been programmed with is at your
disposal."
Sister Marion stared out into the clearing for a long time, the rain pattering loudly on and around her. "I
know I shouldn't be bitter," she said finally. "But I can't help it. So much left to do here, and I won't be
around to see things get done properly. Who'll look after Bea when I'm gone, and stop her working herself
to death?"
"I'll be here," said Moon. "I'll watch over her. But you mustn't give in, Sister. You're a fighter. A Sister of
Glory."
"I'm a leper. And I've always known that's a death sentence. I just thought… I'd have more time. We're all
dying here, Moon. You mustn't feel guilty that you can't save us, the way you saved our Mission."
"I don't feel guilty," said Moon. "That's Owen's job."
They both managed a small smile at that.
"It doesn't seem fair," said Moon. "We fought off armies of Hadenmen and Grendels, but we can't save
you from a stupid disease."
"Yeah, well, that's life. Or rather death. God sends us out, and he calls us home. Get on with it, Moon;
find your damned ship. Be useful."
Moon paused uncertainly. He wanted to comfort her, but didn't really know how. Owen would have told
him to follow his instincts, but Moon wasn't sure he had any. So rather than say the wrong thing, he just
nodded and turned away to survey the great open clearing before him. He knew exactly where the
Sunstrider II had made its final violent landing. Moon remembered everything, and was never wrong.
Unlike humans, he was unable to forget anything. Though sometimes he thought there were things he
might choose not to remember if he could.
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Simon R. Green - Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny
He put the thought aside for later contemplation, reached out with his Maze-enlarged mind, and made
contact with the overconsciousness called the Red Brain. It was like plunging into a vast cool ocean, alive
with endless points of light, a billion plants fused into a single mind larger than even Moon was
comfortable dealing with. Once, he had been part of the Hadenmen mass-mind, but the Red Brain was
larger and wilder and almost terrifyingly free, and only its glacially slow plant thoughts enabled Moon to
deal with it without being swamped. Moon and the Red Brain moved together, linked but still separate,
like a single whale singing its songs to a sentient sea. And when the Hadenman asked the Red Brain to
return the Sunstrider II, it was happy to oblige.
Moon dropped back into his own body, and not for the first time was struck by how small and fragile it
seemed. He had a feeling he was growing out of it, like a set of children's clothes. He put that thought
aside too, as the clearing before him began to shake and shudder. The ground rumbled under his feet, and
the scarlet and crimson plants waved wildly. Moon calmly called the lepers back to join him and Sister
Marion, and they wasted no time in obeying. The ground in the center of the clearing bulged suddenly
upward, cracking raggedly apart. Plants were torn up by the roots and thrown aside, displaced by the
upthrusting earth beneath, but they were only small parts of the massmind, and easily sacrificed. The earth
growled and rumbled as something buried deep below was slowly forced to the surface again. Those
plants in the clearing mobile enough did their best to get out of the way as the great rent in the earth
bulged open, forced apart by the sudden rebirth of the Sunstrider II. It lurched to a halt, buoyed up by the
thrusting earth and vegetation beneath it, and slowly settled into its new berth. The earth settled down, the
plants came to rest again, and everything in the clearing grew still. Moon looked the crashed starship over
critically. It looked like hell.
But then, it had been one hell of a hard landing. The mud-smeared outer hull was split open in several
places, and the rear assembly was mostly ripped away. There were signs of extensive fire damage, outside
and in, and most of the sensor spikes were gone. Which was precisely why Owen had only sent him to
retrieve the star-drive; the only part of the ship likely to have survived intact. Moon thought of the
approaching courier ship. Someone was in for a surprise. Moon smiled slightly, and turned his attention
back to the crashed ship. It only took a few moments to call up the blueprints, and locate a reasonably
wide crack in the outer hull, not too far from the engine section. With a little luck, and a certain amount of
brute force, he should be able to reach the stardrive fairly easily. He looked back at Sister Marion.
"I'll enter the ship alone. Make sure everyone else keeps their distance unless I call for them. The stardrive
is based on poorly understood alien technology, and radiates forces and energies that are highly inimical
to human tissues. The drive should be safely contained within its casing, and therefore theoretically safe,
but there's no telling how much the casing may have suffered in the crash."
"What if the casing's cracked, and the drive's compromised?" said Sister Marion.
"Prolonged exposure would be quite deadly. In which case… we will have to abandon it. The jungle can
bury it again, deep enough to keep it safe from any risk of exposure. But let us think positively. Owen
needs that drive."
"If the emanations are that dangerous, you shouldn't be going in at all," said Sister Marion sharply.
"I am a Hadenman," said Moon. "And I have been through the Madness Maze. That makes me very
difficult to kill."
"And too bloody cocky for your own good. You watch yourself in there."
"Yes, Sister. If anything should go wrong, you and your people are not to come in after me. Whatever the
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SimonR.Green-Deathstalker05-DeathstalkerDestinyScannedbyHighroller.ProofedbyMorrigan.v1.1Proofedbybillbo196MadeprettierbyuseofEBookDesignGroupStylesheet.DeathstalkerDestinybySimonR.GreenOwenDeathstalker:"I'vealwaysknownI'vebeenlivingonborrowedtime.\"Hazeld'Ark:"IneversaidIlovedyou,Owen."JackRandon:"...

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