Deathstalker Destiny

by Simon R. Green

  “You asked to be advised of any other human ship in the vicinity, Captain. Sensors are picking up what could be a small craft, also in low orbit.”

  “Put it on the screen,” said Silence. He studied the ship as its image replaced the Recreated, and nodded thoughtfully. “Looks like it was bolted together from half a dozen different vessels, but the general shape’s familiar. That’s a Sunstrider. The Deathstalker got here before us. Damn. Hemdall; scan the ship for life readings.”

  “None detected, Captain. The ship appears to be entirely deserted.”

  Silence frowned, and then rose sharply to his feet. “That means he’s already gone down, into the interior of the planet. Probably already making plans with the Wolfing.”

  Carrion moved forward to stand beside him. “Does it matter that he got here first? He is Humanity’s hero. What could he have to say to the Wolfing that might worry us?”

  “Who knows?” said Silence. “He’s a Deathstalker. I never believed he was really dead. Owen’s always had his own agenda.”

  “Unlike us,” suggested Carrion.

  Silence glared at him. “We are following Parliament’s orders. After Jack Random went crazy, I don’t trust any of the Maze people anymore.”

  “You went into the Maze,” said Carrion, his voice entirely unjudgmental. Silence shrugged uneasily.

  “I never went all the way through. Never ... changed, the way they did. I’m still human. And Humanity needs the Darkvoid Device. If we can work with the Deathstalker, so well and good. If not ...”

  “Yes?”

  “Damned if I know. There haven’t been many who could make Owen Deathstalker do a single damned thing he didn’t want to. All I can realistically do is appeal to his sense of honor and duty. In his own way, Owen has always been an honorable man. But he’s also a wild card, in a game where the wrong move could spell death for the whole of the Empire. Owen has never understood or cared for the practical realities.”

  “Unlike you, Captain?”

  “Oh, I’ve always been a practical man, Sean. That’s why the Deathstalker’s the official hero of the Empire, and I’m still just a Captain. But in the end, I was the one Parliament trusted with its orders; trusted to save Humanity. They know I’ll get the job done, no matter what.”

  “And Hazel d‘Ark?”

  Silence winced. “Let’s not talk about her. I have my orders. No one is to be allowed to interfere with this mission.”

  “You never change, Captain,” said Carrion.

  And then they both suddenly vanished from the bridge, plucked away by powerful forces in the depths of the planet below, teleported down into the cold heart of the Wolfing World.

  They all arrived together, in the same moment, four human figures materializing in the midst of a great green forest. The surrounding trees stood tall and proud, draped in heavy swaths of summer greenery. Angled shafts of golden sunlight dropped down through the canopy of interlocking branches high overhead. Dust motes swirled lazily in the glimmering light. The air was full of the rich scents of earth and mulch and leaves and growing things. But for all its grandeur the forest was still and silent, with not a sound anywhere. This was not a real wood, not a natural thing. The Wolfings had created the forest long and long ago, so they could have somewhere to run and play and hunt. Now they were all gone, save for Wulf, the last of his kind, but the forest remained.

  Owen and Hazel looked at Silence and Carrion, who looked right back at them. After a moment that seemed to stretch and stretch, Owen and Silence straightened up a little, and ostentatiously moved their hands away from their guns. They nodded slightly to each other, as close as two such old rivals could ever come to bowing. Respect had never been a problem between them; only politics. And very different ideas of duty. Hazel sniffed loudly, and moved her hand from her gun to her belt. Carrion leaned casually on his power lance.

  “Well,” said Owen finally. “It’s been a long time since we last met, hasn’t it, Captain?”

  “Not since Lionstone’s last Court,” said Silence. “Just as well really. We never did have anything in common, except the things we fought over.”

  “Who’s your friend in black?” said Hazel.

  “I am Carrion; a traitor and destroyer of worlds. I bring bad luck.”

  Hazel looked him over, unimpressed. “Fancies himself, doesn’t he?”

  Silence and Owen exchanged an understanding look, acknowledging a shared history of having to make allowances for their companions. Hazel and Carrion caught the look, but didn’t understand it, which was probably just as well. To avoid having to say anything else for a moment, they all looked around them, and the silent forest looked back. The continuing quiet was eerie, disturbing.

  “We’ve all come a long way,” Owen said finally, as much to break the quiet as anything. “Is this where you thought your life would lead you, Captain? Is this the future you saw for yourself, at the beginning of your career?”

  “I haven’t considered the future in a long time,” said Silence. “I have enough problems dealing with the present.”

  “I know the feeling,” said Owen. “But it does seem somehow ... right, that we should end up here, where it all began. A lot of stories find their end back at their beginning.”

  “Oh God, he’s gone all metaphysical again,” said Hazel. “Look, Owen; we’re only here because this is our last bit of unfinished business. The Maze gave us incredible powers. I always knew there’d be a price to pay, eventually.”

  “Yes,” said Carrion. “There’s always a price. No good deed goes unpunished.”

  Owen and Silence ignored both of them with the ease of long practice. “I take it you know about the latest reversal?” said Silence. “The Recreated are plowing through what’s left of the Fleet, and heading straight for Golgotha. When the homeworld falls, so does the Empire, with all of Humanity not far behind. We’re all there is left, to snatch victory from the jaws of extinction.”

  “Ah hell,” said Owen. “We’ve done it before.”

  “But things are very different, this time,” said a deep, growling voice, and they all turned sharply to look. The Wolfing had arrived, without any of them hearing or noticing, and now he stood before them, tall and proud and very bitter; Wulf, the last of his kind. He had a man’s shape, but he didn’t stand like a man. Easily eight feet tall, he towered over them, a commanding, threatening presence. Wide shoulders surmounted a barrel chest and a long narrow waist, all of him covered in thick golden fur. The legs curved back like a wolf, and the oversized feet and hands had long, jagged claws. In the wolfish head, sharp teeth showed in a disturbing smile. The eyes were large and intelligent and almost overpow eringly ferocious. Just standing there, motionless, the Wolfing looked very, very dangerous.

  Owen kept his hands ostentatiously well away from his weapons. He’d never been too sure of just where he stood with Wulf, and now he had even more reason to be wary. Hazel stood very close at his side, scowling unwaveringly back at the Wolfing to show how unimpressed she was, but Owen could feel she was coiled tight as a spring. Captain Silence and Carrion were also standing close together, and Carrion no longer held his power lance like a staff. The Wolfing looked them over for a long moment, and then fixed his unsettling gaze on Silence.

  “I remember you, Captain. We met only briefly the last time you were here, but I remember you. You thought you could destroy the Maze.”

  “I did my duty,” said Silence.

  “Of course you did. That’s just what the other humans said, as they hunted down and destroyed my kind all those years ago, showing no mercy to females or cubs. Have you learned no new excuses for your destruction, in all that time?”

  “No,” said Carrion. “They wiped out my people too. The Ashrai. But still and all, I made my peace with the man who ordered their destruction, and Captain Silence is my friend again. I vouch for him.”

  “And who vouches for you, human?” said the Wolfing.

  “The Ashrai. If need be. Let us
all pray I don’t need to call on them. They wouldn’t leave much standing of your fragile, pretty wood.” Carrion looked almost sadly at the Wolfing. “I sympathize with your loss, friend Wulf, but let us understand each other. We are here to do what we must, and we will do it, right or wrong, with you or despite you, as need be. I lost one people. I couldn’t bear to lose another. Can’t we be friends, Wulf, in the face of such dark evil as the Recreated?”

  The Wolfing laughed suddenly, and shook his shaggy head. “You don’t even know what the Recreated are.”

  “And you do?” said Owen.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what I know, young Deathstalker. Come; we are wasting time, and there’s not much left of it to waste. The Madness Maze has returned, and the baby is waking up.”

  “I’m glad the Maze is back,” said Silence. “I always felt just a little guilty at destroying something so ... extraordinary. Like a barbarian tearing down a city he wasn’t advanced enough to appreciate. But it killed my men, and it was a threat, so ... I never did understand about the sleeping baby, though. It is significant?”

  “You could say that,” said Hazel, smiling despite herself. “It’s Giles Deathstalker’s clone. It’s also a being of incalculable power. You know it better as the Darkvoid Device.”

  Silence looked at her, startled. “A baby was responsible for all that death and destruction? I don’t believe it!”

  “Believe it,” said the Wolfing, smiling his unsettling smile. “The baby has slept for centuries, and I have felt his power grow. If he wakes again, the whole universe may tremble, and he is very close to waking now.”

  “Damn,” said Silence. “Damn! I had the Darkvoid Device in my hands, all those years ago. If I’d only known ...”

  “What?” said Hazel. “What would you have done with it, Silence? Used it to protect Lionstone from us, and keep her in power? Prevented the rebellion, and all the changes we made for the better?”

  “Perhaps,” said Silence. “Not all your changes were for the better. It doesn’t matter now. We still have to face the Recreated.”

  “When you opened fire on the Maze, and tried to destroy it,” said the Wolfing, “the Maze protected itself by jumping forward through Time. When it reappeared around the baby, everything was as it had been. You never did understand the nature of the Madness Maze. What you see is merely the physical manifestation of something far greater. The tip of a very large, very alien iceberg. The Maze is just the intrusion into our reality, into our mere three dimensions, of something far greater; a mere fraction of an alien device so vast that one glimpse of the whole thing would blast your reason away.”

  “How very metaphysical,” said Silence. “I’ll be impressed later, when I’ve got time. All that really matters now is the Darkvoid Device. Parliament sent me here to find and obtain it, and bring it back to use against the Recreated, to save the homeworld and Humanity. Nothing else matters.”

  “It’s not that simple,” said Owen. “Giles thought he could use the baby’s power to stop a rebellion. Instead, the baby murdered billions of people. Who knows what he might do, when he wakes again? This isn’t a weapon we dare use, Silence. We don’t know how to aim it, focus it, or even turn it off. That small baby could actually be a greater threat to Humanity than all the Recreated put together.”

  “That’s theory,” said Silence. “I have to deal in facts. The Recreated are a threat now. And I have my orders.”

  “We’ll stop you, if we have to,” said Owen.

  “Humans,” said the Wolfing. “With your species on the edge of extinction, still you bicker and quarrel. Come with me, fools. The Madness Maze is waiting for you. Perhaps you can learn wisdom from it, in the time you have left.”

  The Madness Maze was right back where it had been, as enigmatic and unsettling as ever. Beyond it lay the city the Handenmen built, after Owen released them from their Tomb. The once bright and shining silver towers were dark and lifeless now, the mathematically straight streets silent and deserted, with no trace anywhere of the augmented men who created the city to be the wellspring of their rebirth.

  “They all went into the Maze,” said the Wolfing. “Every last one. It called to them, in a voice their original creators would have recognized, and they could not stand against it. They all went in, and none came out. That is the nature of the Maze; to judge and condemn the unworthy. They all went mad, or died, and the Maze took them into itself forever. Their time was over. They were incapable of becoming.”

  “Becoming?” said Hazel sharply. “Becoming what?”

  “Only the Maze can answer that question,” said the Wolfing. “And you must go into the Maze to ask it.”

  Hazel scowled. “I’ve never liked the word must. And besides; that damned thing almost drove me crazy last time. I’m in no hurry to give it another crack at me.”

  “You have no choice,” said Wulf. “The baby is waking. His fate, your fate, and Humanity’s fate all meet their destiny together, here, at the heart of the Maze. Either you go in, and complete your journey at last, or everything you have done and stood for has been for nothing. The Recreated will destroy your species, and you will die, alone and incomplete and far from everything you hold most dear.”

  The four humans looked at the Madness Maze, and felt it looking back. At first glance it seemed straightforward enough. A simple pattern of tall steel walls, shining and shimmering, but the more you looked at it the more complex you realized it was. The pattern unfolded before their eyes like a continuously blooming flower, becoming ever more subtle and intricate, like the folded convolutions of the brain. The walls were twelve feet high and only a fraction of an inch thick, and Owen remembered clearly how deathly cold they had been to the touch. The paths between the walls led to knowledge and madness, inspiration and evolution or a terrible death; the birth of a new kind of Humanity, or the death of the old. In the Maze was every dream you ever had, including all the bad ones. Perhaps especially the bad ones. Birth is always painful.

  It was calling to them. They could all feel it, on levels they couldn’t comprehend or resist. As Hazel had said, only partly in jest, they had unfinished business with the Maze. Or it with them. Silence looked at the shimmering structure before him, and tried to remember the good men and women of his crew it had killed, but still something drew him to it. He had never passed all the way through. He had turned back to save Investigator Frost, because the Maze was killing her, and he couldn’t allow that. But a part of him had always wondered what he might have become, if only he’d gone all the way through, to the heart. To the center of the mysteries.

  Owen looked at the Madness Maze, and thought of all the amazing things he’d done in his short, legendary life. He’d achieved many things, performed wonders, followed where his duty and his honor had led him, but he couldn’t honestly say any of it had made him happy. Despite all his wishes and convictions, he’d been forced to put aside his old scholarly self and become the warrior he’d never wanted to be. He’d seen good friends die, along with his enemies, to bring about a questionable victory and an Empire he no longer recognized or felt a part of. The Maze had changed his life forever, and made him so much more than he was, but he still didn’t know whether to praise or damn it.

  Hazel scowled at the Maze, her hand resting again on the gun at her hip. She didn’t remember much about her last trip through the Maze, at least partly through her own wishes, but she was sure the damned thing had its own agenda, and not necessarily one she would agree with. She’d been many things in her life, from clonelegger and pirate to rebel and official hero, and she hated to think any of them had been anyone’s idea but her own. If she went into the Maze again, what new changes might it work in her? What might she become?

  Carrion looked at the Madness Maze, and perhaps saw more than the others, because he had lived so long with the Ashrai in the metallic forest. He saw strange energies spiraling endlessly through the steel pathways, and potentials and possibilities that both intrigued and frighte
ned him. He welcomed these feelings, because it had been so long since he’d felt much of anything.

  “Well?” said the Wolfing finally. “You’ve come all this way. Have none of you anything to say?”

  “If the ... Device is in the Maze, then we have to go after it,” said Carrion. “But you heard the Deathstalker. We could just be trading one threat for another.”

  “If the baby becomes a menace, then I’ll destroy it,” said Silence. “But not until I’ve made use of it.”

  “John; you can‘t,” said Carrion. “He’s just a baby. He’s innocent.”

  “It killed billions of people!”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  “Nothing’s ever simple, is it?” said Owen. “I remember the first time I came here. I remember walking the Madness Maze to its heart, and finding the baby waiting there, safely sleeping. I think I knew even then that my life was never going to make sense. That there were greater powers than I could ever hope to understand at work in the universe. And this was where the lies started too. My ancestor Giles, the original Deathstalker, told me the baby was his clone. It didn’t occur to me till much later that cloning didn’t exist in his time. He also told me the Madness Maze was created by the Wolfings, though soon after he changed his tune and said the Maze was an alien artifact. That was his first slip, the first thing that made me distrust him. But then, I never did believe in legends. Especially when I became one. And I’ve studied far too much history to believe in happy endings. But I still believe one man of goodwill can make a difference, if he stands at the right place at the right time, and will not back down or look away.”

  “Giles believed that once,” said the Wolfing. “Unfortunately, he decided he wanted to be more than just a hero, and Warrior Prime. The time has come for me to tell you the truth; the true history of Giles Deathstalker and his infant son and the Madness Maze.”