Deathstalker Rebellion

by Simon R. Green

  "Scan complete," said a disembodied voice. "Thomas Le Bihan is not human. Deep-range scans indicate he is a machine. A Fury."

  There was a sudden surge of movement in the Court as everyone fell over themselves trying to get away from the inhuman thing in their midst masquerading as Le Bihan. His face went utterly blank, no longer bothering to mimic human expressions, and thick steel spikes protruded suddenly from his body, thrusting out through his clothes to keep everyone at bay. Energy beams flared from his eyes, blowing apart half a dozen people before him. The beams blew out his human eyes, but it quickly became clear he didn't need them to see. Long steel blades appeared in his hands, jumping out of concealed sheaths in his arms. Le Bihan surged forward inhumanly quickly and fell upon the courtiers nearest him, hacking and cutting with machine-perfect speed and accuracy. Blood flew in the air and spattered the snow. Screams filled the air. The courtiers scrambled to get out of his way, but they weren't fast enough. They were only human. The Fury's swords rose and fell, shearing through limbs and crushing skulls, and still no human emotions moved on his cold implacable face.

  Dram and General Beckett moved quickly to put themselves between the Fury and the Throne, protecting Lionstone. Cardinal Kassar took a strategic step backward, ready to dive behind the Throne should it prove necessary. The Fury tore through the courtiers, sweeping them aside as bloody bundles of rags and trampling them underfoot. Screams echoed in the air as energy beams fired again and again from his eyes and mouth. Investigator Razor threw BB and Constance to the snow, and covered them with his body. Not far away, Daniel shielded Stephanie in the same way, while Michel shielded Lily. The two men's eyes met for a moment, and Daniel frowned as the beginnings of a thought occurred to him, but he was quickly distracted by the Fury's progress. Meanwhile Valentine stood where he was, enjoying the spectacle, somehow remaining untouched while people fell all around him. Shub looked after its own. On the far edge of the crowd, Stelmach hid behind Silence, who had to hold Frost back from attacking the Fury with her bare hands.

  Lionstone ordered her guards to destroy the Fury, and the twelve armed men rushed forward, quickly surrounding the android. It hesitated briefly, and they threw themselves at it. Their swords cut through the exterior flesh, only to rebound harmlessly from the steel beneath. They had no guns; Lionstone didn't allow them at Court. The Fury flexed its arms, and the steel spikes protruding from its body shot out like shrapnel, transfixing the guards. They fell choking and dying to the snow, and lay still.

  David Deathstalker and Kit SummerIsle ran forward and snatched up two of the fallen swords. They hit the Fury from both sides at once and darted back out of range before it could turn its strength on them. David was boosting now, almost the equal of the Fury's inhuman speed, and Kid Death forced the android to a halt through the sheer speed and ferocity of his attack. The two of them whittled away at the flesh covering, revealing more of the steel beneath, but couldn't do it any damage. They dodged the energy beams and kept fighting.

  Razor and Frost appeared suddenly and joined the fight with more blades retrieved from the dead guards, and the two Investigators added their skill and savagery to the battle. But even so, all the four of them could do was duck energy beams and contain the Fury where it was. They weren't doing it any real damage, and they all knew it was only a matter of time before they began to slow, and then it would get them.

  "Back off!" said Lionstone loudly from her Throne. "I've got a better idea."

  Razor and Frost threw themselves to one side, as energy beams from the Fury's eyes and mouth flashed through the air where they'd been. David and Kid Death glanced at the Throne and backed quickly away from the Fury as they realized what Lionstone had in mind. The Grendel alien stood still and silent at Lionstone's side, as though straining at an invisible leash. Its yoke chimed once, and the Grendel surged forward and threw itself at the Fury. Energy beams flashed from the alien's eyes, searing away the android's false face to reveal the grinning steel skull beneath. Spikes protruded from the Grendel's crimson armor, and the two inhuman beings slammed together and stood straining as they tested each other's strength.

  The Grendel seized the Fury's head with both hands and ripped it clean off. The Fury didn't miss a step. It lashed out with one hand and thrust its steel blade through the alien's belly and out its back. Dark blood coursed down its legs, but the Grendel didn't flinch. The alien leaned over the android's exposed neck and sent an energy blast from its mouth down through the open wound into the heart of the machine. The Fury waved its free arm wildly, and then jerked up the one buried in the Grendel's gut, cutting the alien's upper body in two. For a moment they stood together, as though waiting for the strength for some last ultimate effort, and then the alien and the android both fell dead on the snow.

  There was a long pause, and then Frost and Razor edged cautiously forward and looked down at the unmoving bodies. Frost stirred the Fury with the toe of her boot, but it didn't react. David and Kit came over to take a look, leaning on each other for support. All around them, courtiers were slowly and very warily getting to their feet again and brushing themselves off.

  "I wonder what happened to the real Le Bihan?" said David.

  "Dead," said Razor.

  "Are you sure?" said Kit.

  "He'd better be," said Frost. "That thing was wearing his skin."

  "Damn," said Lionstone lazily, looking at the two inhuman bodies. "Now I'll have to order another Grendel. Relax, people, the excitement's over. That was the only Fury, wasn't it, computer?"

  "That was the only Fury," said the disembodied voice calmly. "However, it is not the only deviation from the norm. The Vicar Roger Geffen, of Cardinal Kassar's retinue, is very definitely not human. Don't rightly know what he is, but according to the sensors, his structure and interior are completely inhuman. I can only assume he is some kind of alien, passing as human."

  "Take the creature alive!" snapped the Empress. "Damn it: this time I want some questions answered!"

  "Sorry," said Geffen, an ordinary and average-looking fellow in a formal surplice. "Can't stay. Things to see, people to do. You know how it is."

  His arms and legs elongated suddenly, his head leaping up on a wildly stretching neck. Different parts of his body stretched and changed shape, absorbing his clothes into himself, while different faces came and went on his ballooning head. People converged on him from all sides, and the alien fell back, collapsed, and splashed like liquid, spattering everywhere. Some of the courtiers tried to pick it up, but the pieces squirmed out of their fingers, rejoined suddenly into one central mass, and fountained up into the air. Razor and Frost tried to cut at it with their swords, but the alien flesh just broke and reformed without taking any injury. And while all this was going on, wide-grinning mouths whooped and laughed and sang a medley of popular show tunes in several different voices. Finally, it pulled its many parts together, spun around like a whirlwind, flew up into the air, crashed through the hidden ceiling, and was gone. It suddenly seemed very quiet in the Court. Valentine was the first to stir. "Well," he said. "Somehow I never thought an alien invasion would be so… silly."

  And that was how the Court ended that day. The courtiers filed out as quickly as they could without seeming disrespectful, while the Empress stood on her Throne and screamed furiously at her people to find the alien, capture it, kill it, and dissect it. Not necessarily in that order. The Lord High Dram was one of the first to leave, maintaining a very low profile, and was glad to be well out of it. He had a strong suspicion the alien wasn't going to be found, and he didn't want to be around Lionstone when some poor sod tried to explain that to her. Given the creature's shape-changing abilities, it could be anywhere or anything by now. Or anyone. Dram decided very firmly that he wasn't going to think about that. The security sensors would probably track it down eventually, but it was going to be a long, slow process. There was also the problem of how they were going to contain the thing once they'd found it, but Dram decided he wasn't going
to think about that, either. He had his own problems.

  The courtiers had been pretty quiet as they hurried out of the frozen Court. They all had a lot they wanted to talk about, but they preferred to do it in private. Dram had a lot he wanted to say to Lionstone, but for the moment he thought it would be better to do it from a safe distance, over a secured comm channel. So he made his way back to his private quarters in the Imperial Palace, taking his time in the hope Lionstone might have calmed down a little by the time he got there. As it was, he'd barely got through the door when his viewscreen started chiming insistently. Dram didn't rush to answer it. She was going to be in a foul mood anyway, so he might as well enjoy the last few moments of peace he had left. He sank down into a comfortable chair, put his feet up on the footstool that had scurried into position, sighed deeply, and accepted the call. Lionstone scowled at him from the wall. She was still wearing her crown, even though she was calling from her private quarters. This was a dangerous sign. It usually meant she had something official and very unpleasant in mind.

  "Dram, so glad you've got yourself comfortable. Don't sit up on my account. And no, we haven't found the damned thing yet, thank you so much for asking. This is all I need right now, more complications. Some days things wouldn't go right if you bribed them with a barony."

  "You should now," said Dram. "So tell me; how did I do? Was I convincing? Will people believe I'm the real Dram?"

  "Of course they will," said Lionstone. "If only because they'll find the alternative too disturbing to contemplate. They'll believe you're the real you because they won't want to think a clone could get so close to me; they'll assume my security scanners must have validated you, and leave it at that. As long as I say you're Dram, that's all that matters.

  "The only people who saw the previous Dram die are contained in the Dauntless, and they're going on a mission that will keep them away from Court for several years. By the time I allow them to return, it'll be old news, old gossip, and no one will give a damn anymore. You will have proved yourself by then. I'll see to that. If need be, I can always set the mind techs on Silence and his crew and edit their memories as necessary. It'd be simpler to have them all die in an unfortunate accident, but Silence and his crew are popular heroes at the moment. And you never know when you might need a hero."

  "You don't need a hero," said Dram. "You've got me."

  The Empress smiled coldly. "My people tell me you still haven't ordered the mass execution of the Tax and Tithe Headquarters security staff."

  "It seemed a trifle harsh," said Dram. "They were just unlucky. It wasn't their fault. No one could have anticipated a Hadenman ship."

  "The old Dram would have executed them all without a second thought. Some of them personally, pour discouragez les autres. They didn't call him the Widowmaker for nothing, you know. I want those executions ordered today. People might think you were getting soft, and we can't have that. So pick out a hundred of them at random for public execution, and kill the more senior ones yourself. It'll make a good impression."

  "Of course, Your Majesty. Any other little errands you'd like me to run?"

  "Don't get snappy, dear; it doesn't suit you. Now, how are you getting on with your new project?"

  Dram thought for a moment, wondering how best to say it. He'd been put in charge of mass-producing esp-blockers, using dead espers from the Silo Nine uprising as raw material. Even with current advances in technique, it still took one complete esper brain to make one esp-blocker, which was why they were so rare. And even with the mass slaughter in Silo Nine, the tech people were already running short of materials. Especially, since they were also being used up in the other experiment Lionstone had authorized. Something called Legion. Something she wouldn't even talk to him about.

  "Ah, yes," said Dram, before the pause could become incriminating. "One hundred and one uses for a dead esper. Production of esp-blockers is continuing. Following your instructions, my scientists are also experimenting to see if dead esper brain tissue can be used in the construction of mindbombs big enough to destroy a city, thinking machines faster and more powerful than standard computers, as used on Mistworld, and devices that could change probability in our favor."

  "You've been experimenting for some time now. Do you have anything concrete to show me?"

  "Not… as such. The shortage of raw materials as we run out of bodies is slowing us down."

  "Then, kill some more espers," said Lionstone. "Don't disappoint me, Dram. I'd hate to have to scrap you and start over again with a new clone."

  "Yes," said Dram. "I'd hate that, too."

  "I take it you've heard by now about Julian Skye being helped to escape?"

  "Yes. Rather unfortunate, that."

  Lionstone glared at him. "You always did have a gift for understatement, Dram. Still, Skye's loss is a setback, but we're really no worse off now than before we had him. At least now we can be sure Skye is as important as we thought he was. He slipped up once, he'll slip up again, and then we'll have him. And there'll be no second last-minute escape, even if I have to have both his legs cut off to slow him down. For the moment, I'm more interested in who helped him escape. Security cameras got a good look at him. It was quite definitely Finlay Campbell, of all people. God's gift to fashion accessories. I couldn't believe it when they first showed me the tapes. The greatest fop and dandy of our time turning out to be a ruthless killer for the underground? Just goes to show, you can't trust anyone anymore. Take a look at him in action."

  Lionstone's face disappeared from the wall viewscreen, replaced by a series of scenes from the detention center. Finlay Campbell cut and hacked his way through a small army of security guards, who might as well have been unarmed for all the good they did in stopping him. An Investigator in a really bad mood might have equaled the body count, but it was still an extremely impressive performance. Sometimes the camera had to slow the image down to show all that was happening. Dram found he was sitting on the edge of his chair, fascinated by the speed and fury of Finlay's swordsmanship. The scenes disappeared, replaced by Lionstone's scowling face, and Dram made himself lean back in his chair and look unconcerned.

  "Good techniques," he said calmly. "But a bit rusty in some of his defensive moves. Of course, he didn't seem to need them much…"

  Lionstone sniffed loudly. "If the underground can take a fashion-obsessed idiot like Finlay Campbell and turn him into a first-class swordsman and killer, we'd better start taking them more seriously. You know he killed Lord St. John earlier, too? Though he's no great loss. Getting too politically ambitious, that one. He'll be more use to us as a martyr than he ever was alive. However, until I find someone I can trust to take over his position, you're going to have to take over more of his duties, as Warrior Prime. It'll mean your having to mix with people more, but you should be ready for that by now. Don't say anything you don't have to and practice looking mean, and you'll do fine. Now, I understand we're having problems with the rebuilding of Silo Nine. You were supposed to have sorted that out. Talk to me, Dram."

  "With Wormboy gone, we only have the worms themselves to control the esper prisoners. The worms seem to have formed a crude gestalt that enables them to function as before, controlling the espers' thoughts through pain conditioning, but the worms need to remain close together to maintain the gestalt. Which means if we scatter the prisoners to other holding facilities, the precarious control will break down. And we don't have anywhere near enough esp-blockers yet to guard that many prisoners. So we're having to rebuild Silo Nine around the existing cells, with all the epers crammed in together. The underground is doing everything it can to sabotage the rebuilding, which means we need to maintain extra security measures to guard against them. All in all, we're lucky to have progressed as far as we have."

  "The worms," Lionstone said thoughtfully. "Are they sentient? Individually, I mean?"

  "Unknown," said Dram. "Espers can't tell us anything about them, and tech scanners are limited to the physical realm. So far
the worms are following orders, and that's the best we can hope for. They're somewhat bigger than they used to be and have apparently forged more connections with the host brain, but what that means is anybody's guess. I've established special security measures, so that the worms and their hosts are under constant observation. Just in case."

  "Keep it up," said Lionstone. "Can't have the worms becoming too powerful, can we? Very well, it seems you're on top of things for the moment. Get some rest. I'll contact you when I want you again."

  Her face disappeared, the wall viewscreen went blank, and Dram was finally alone. He slumped in his chair and sighed heavily. It was hard enough to survive in Golgotha these days without having to pretend to be somebody else while you were doing it. Except that wasn't strictly accurate. He was Dram in every way that mattered. He just didn't have Dram's memories. He did have access to his recorded history, including a few things even Lionstone didn't know about.

  "Argus," he said quietly. "Talk to me."

  "At your command, sir," said his personal AI. The warm and comforting voice seemed to come from every part of the room at once, something Dram still hadn't got used to.

  "Access my predecessor's diary," said Dram. "I have some more questions."

  The original Dram had suspected that someday he might lose the Empress's confidence, or otherwise fall from favor. And given how much he knew about her private needs and plans, he had no doubt his fall would lead rapidly and inevitably to his execution. He also had no doubt she'd clone him. It was what he would have done. So that his work could go on, he confided all his plans and personal information to a special diary file hidden deep inside his personal computer, along with standing instructions for Argus to inform and instruct his clone replacement.

  He also intended for his death to be avenged. Lionstone was the most likely suspect, but he had many other enemies. The diary file therefore contained extensive notes on all his enemies' weaknesses, along with suggestions as to how they might most successfully be exploited. Unfortunately, his clone had no idea how and why the original Dram died. Only Silence and his crew knew the true facts, and Lionstone had kept them in strict quarantine. So far she'd refused to answer any of his questions, but Dram had no doubt he'd get it out of her eventually. The Lionstone he'd had dealings with hadn't seemed anywhere as intelligent or subtle as the file had suggested. Unless he was missing something, of course.