Deathstalker Rebellion

by Simon R. Green

  The room was comfortably large by Technos standards, which meant you might have squeezed ten people into it at most, and only then if you happened to have a crowbar handy. The furnishings were understated to the point of anonymity, and the overbright lighting was giving Stephanie a headache. Daniel finally stopped his pacing and accessed the factory's external sensors. One wall disappeared behind a representation of what the weather looked like outside. Mostly, it looked like snow being blown sideways by very strong winds that had the disconcerting habit of shooting from left to right and then back again just a little faster than the human eye could comfortably cope with. Stephanie turned in her chair so she wouldn't have to look at it and concentrated on her game plan.

  Ostensibly, Valentine had sent them here to see that everything went smoothly until mass production of the new stardrive officially began. He'd arranged a ceremony for the big day to be transmitted live across the Empire in prime time, to remind everyone—especially those at Court—where Wolfe money and power came from. Actually, Stephanie had arranged everything. She'd planted the idea for a ceremony in his mind, and then intrigued quietly but continually behind the scenes to ensure that she and Daniel would attend the ceremony rather than Valentine himself. A live broadcast would be the perfect opportunity to throw some heavy but undetectable spanners into the works, slow down if not halt stardrive production, and generally make Valentine look incompetent. Such a high-profile failure might be just the lever she and Daniel needed to pry control of the factory away from Valentine and over to them. And then they'd see who really ran Clan Wolfe.

  The local rebels were still a nuisance and would have to be put sharply in their place well before the ceremony. But that shouldn't be too much of a problem. Kassar had brought a fair-size army of the Faithful with him to back up the numerous Wolfe mercenaries. The natives wouldn't know what hit them. On the other hand, the presence of so many security troops could mean that her carefully planned and considered pieces of sabotage would have to be carried out with great subtlety. If she, or more likely Daniel, were to be caught in the act, all the fast talking in the world wouldn't be enough to save them. Valentine would seize the opportunity to discredit them and quite possibly expel them from the Family. It was what Stephanie would do in his position. She looked up, and there was Daniel, still staring at the faux window, and she knew he wasn't seeing the storm outside.

  "Let it go, Daniel," she said softly. "Our father is dead and gone, and there's nothing you or I can do about it."

  "No. He's not dead," said Daniel and would not turn away from the storm. "You saw him in the Court. His body's dead, but those bastard AIs on Shub repaired it. Daddy's still alive in there, trapped in a decaying corpse. He recognized me. Spoke to me. We have to rescue him, bring him home."

  "What you saw was just a Ghost Warrior," said Stephanie, her voice carefully calm and even. "A dead body held together by servomechanisms and run by computer implants. It was just a machine talking, imitating our father. A composite program, probably derived from father's public holo appearances. The man we knew is dead. He doesn't need us anymore. Forget him."

  "I can't." Daniel finally turned his head to look at her, and there was something in his face that gave Stephanie pause. His normally sulky mouth was set in a firm line, and his gaze was steady, determined. "For once, I'm not going to let you talk me out of something I know is right. If there's even a chance Daddy is still alive, I have to rescue him. I have to. I let him down so often when he was alive; I can't fail him now he's dead. You don't need me here. The sabotage is your plan. Kassar can take care of the rebel problem for you. He's got experience in things like that. I can't think about things like that anymore. The rebels don't matter. The factory doesn't matter. Wolfes come first. Always."

  Stephanie heaved herself up out of her chair and moved quickly over to join Daniel before the window. "I need you here, Danny. You're my strength. Stay here with me, at least until after the ceremony. We can send agents out to locate our father and discover what his true state is. People with experience in these matters. And that way we can keep things quiet. After all, there are a lot of people with a vested interest in seeing our father doesn't return to head the Family again."

  She saw the decision in his eyes before he nodded reluctantly, and she sighed silently with relief. Daniel was too much of a wild card to be allowed to run loose. She needed him at her side, where she could control what he saw and said. He meant well, but he lacked her vision, her focus. She knew what was best for the Family, and it didn't include charging blindly around the Empire on a fool's errand. Dear Daddy was dead, and that was for the best, too. She'd have had him killed eventually anyway. He was in her way.

  "If I'm going to stay, find something for me to do," said Daniel. "I feel useless here."

  "Perhaps you'd care to work with my troops," said Cardinal Kassar. "Always room for another brave warrior in the service of the Church."

  They both turned around sharply, Daniel's hands clenching into fists at being caught unawares. Stephanie nodded coolly to the Cardinal. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of appearing flustered. Even if she wasn't sure how much he might have overheard. The Cardinal stood grandly in the open doorway, his chin held high. He was wearing full battle armor, even in the supposed safety of the factory's private quarters—which might have been down to Church paranoia, or maybe a veiled insult to the Wolfes, in that he didn't trust them to ensure his safety. Stephanie thought he was most likely wearing it because he thought it made him look strong and soldierly.

  In which case it was almost successful. The great bas-relief crucifix on his chest tried hard to draw the eye, but Kassar's ravaged face would not be ignored. Half eaten away by acid, the scarred side of his face looked more like a skull than a living countenance, even down to the gleaming teeth visible through the rents in his cheek. Stephanie managed a gracious smile, but didn't move, and stuck close beside Daniel so he wouldn't, either. Let Kassar come to them.

  The Cardinal was late, but she'd expected that. Kassar was the kind of man who always kept people waiting, just to show how important he was. He needed little victories like that to sustain him, especially since being ordered to Technos III. Officially, it was an opportunity. The Church had sent him a small army of the Faithful and a dozen elite Jesuit commandos to help the Wolfe forces defeat the rebel terrorists. The Church of Christ the Warrior didn't normally do favors for the aristocracy, let alone Clan Wolfe, but like everyone else, the Church's future power was dependent on gaining access to the new stardrive. Those who got there first would have a temporary but very real advantage over those who did not. And the Church had not got where it was by ignoring possible advantages. The fact that the Church despised the Wolfe Family in general, and its current head Valentine in particular, could not be allowed to get in the way of political one-upmanship. Needs must when the devil drives.

  Kassar especially had no love for the Wolfes, but none the less he had lobbied almost savagely for the posting. The war on Technos III was a chance to show what he could do as a commander of troops, and that was after all the fast track to advancement within the Church. Piety was all very well, but it was victory in arms that got you promoted. And though he barely admitted it even to himself, Kassar needed to be sure of his own courage. He couldn't help feeling he'd made rather a poor showing when the Ghost Warrior and the Fury and the alien broke loose that day at Court. He could have done something, something brave and commanding to save the day, but instead he'd just stood there like all the others with his mouth hanging open. People must have seen him doing nothing, even if no one dared to say so to his face. So he had come to Technos III to win a great victory, whatever the cost, and then no one would have any doubts about his valor. Not even him.

  They stood looking at each other for a long moment, all three with their own private thoughts, none of them willing to make the first move. Finally, Stephanie took one step forward and extended a hand to Kassar. He took a step forward, accepted the h
and, and bowed curtly over it. His handshake was firm but brief. Daniel stayed where he was and nodded briefly. Kassar nodded back.

  "Welcome to Technos III, Cardinal," said Stephanie, her voice gracious but cool. "Sorry about the weather, but if you don't like it, stick around, and something else will come along shortly. The weather here changes its mind like a village priest caught between two sins. I trust your men are settling in comfortably?"

  "My men are preparing for their first assault on the rebel positions," said Kassar. "Comforts can wait. You've let the terrorists get away with far too much, but given the small size of your forces, I can't say I'm surprised. Why haven't you pressed some of the factory workers into service? I can supply whatever arms and armor may be needed."

  "I think not, Cardinal," said Stephanie. "All the workers here are clones, bred and designed solely for factory work. And you don't give clones weapons."

  Kassar shrugged carelessly, to cover his faux pas. "As you wish. My troops are more than enough to get the job done. Now, Daniel, what do you say? Shall I find a place for you in our ranks?"

  "Wolfes didn't fight for other people," Daniel said flatly. "We fight for ourselves. Always."

  A silence fell that could have been awkward, as each party present was damned if they'd be the first to break it, and then the tension was broken as Toby the Troubador and his cameraman Flynn came bustling through the open door. Toby nodded briskly to all present and gestured for Flynn to find a position where he could cover everyone with his camera.

  "Morning, one and all," he said cheerfully. "Isn't it a perfectly awful day? Hope I'm not interrupting anything vital, but I really do need to get some footage of the Cardinal meeting his hosts. That kind of thing always plays well with the audience, and it'll make a good introduction to the campaign to come. Don't worry, I'll keep it short and to the point. I'm sure you've all got things you'd rather be doing."

  Daniel gave Toby his best intimidating scowl. "Is this really necessary?"

  "I'm afraid so," said Stephanie quickly. "Public relations can be a bore and a bind, but we can't do without it. Public acclaim can often get you things that nothing else can. The stardrive ceremony will be an important event, and I want it covered very thoroughly. After all, absolutely everyone will he watching. Grit your teeth and bear it, Daniel. It'll soon be over."

  "That's the spirit," said Toby. "Cardinal, if you'd care to stand between the Wolfes, make a nice group for the camera…"

  Kassar glowered at him, but moved obediently as directed to stand between Stephanie and Daniel. And though they stood close together, none of them so much as nudged another with their elbow. Toby bustled around them, raising an arm here, squaring a shoulder there.

  "All right, people, just hold the pose while Flynn gets the lighting right, and then we'll do a short interview. Nothing complicated, just how glad you all are the Cardinal's here, that sort of thing. Fake the smiles if you have to."

  "You are aware, Shreck," said Kassar coldly, "that your uncle is currently being investigated by the Church on charges of sedition and corruption on many levels?"

  "Nothing to do with me," Toby said airily. "You can haul him off in chains, for all I care. I'll even supply the chains. Just give me some warning so I can get the rotten fruit concession."

  "He is the head of your Family," said Daniel. "You owe him allegiance. Have you no honor?"

  "Of course not," said Toby. "I'm a journalist."

  "We will of course want to see all reports in their entirety before they can be transmitted," said Stephanie. "So that they can be checked for bias and possible inaccuracies."

  "The Church censors will also examine all footage," Kassar said quickly. "To check for blasphemies or disrespect. Standards must be maintained."

  Toby kept smiling, though his cheeks were beginning to ache from the strain. "Of course. Whatever you wish. Don't worry about inconveniencing me. I'm used to working with people looking over my shoulder."

  He fussed the three of them about some more, partly to get the best grouping for the camera and partly just because he could. He'd expected some kind of censorship, but he could see that getting anything interesting off Technos III was going to take a lot of hard work, a little subtlety, and every dirty trick in the journalist's handbook. Still, when in doubt let the material go over their heads. They can't censor what they don't recognize. He had great hopes of what the Technos III material might do for him and his career, and he wasn't going to let these three stuffed shirts get in his way. The day he couldn't think rings around any censor they could throw at him, he'd give up journalism and go into politics. They'd believe anything there.

  This was his first real assignment in too many years, after spending so long buried in the Shrecks' Public Relations department, because Gregor needed him. The right kind of reporting here could make his reputation, establish him as a journalist and commentator in his own right. Toby wanted that. The essence of a good PR man is that no one should notice his work. Toby felt very strongly that he'd earned a chance to show off his talents on a wider and more visible screen. Of course, he couldn't hope to make much of a splash just covering the events leading up to the stardrive ceremony. The real story lay in covering the Technos III conflict, the Wolfe and Church forces versus the rebel terrorists. And he was going to cover it, despite anything the Wolfes and the Church could do to stop him.

  He looked back at Flynn, who nodded briefly to show he was ready. The camera on his shoulder studied the three dignitaries with its red owl eye, linked into Flynn's eyes through his comm implant, so that he saw what it saw. Daniel and Stephanie and Kassar smiled determinedly at the camera, all friends together, ready for their interview. As in all politics, individual problems disappeared in the need to present a solid front to a common enemy.

  The Church ship Divine Breath hung in orbit above Technos III, comfortably far above the seething weather, ostensibly on guard but mostly just goofing off in the absence of the Cardinal and his Jesuit enforcers. After all, they had nothing to do but watch a few sensors while they waited for the Cardinal's troops to make short work of a few native discontents. Easy work. Everyone knew there wasn't a rebel born who could stand against trained troops of the Faithful. So a soft duty for once, and the crew took advantage of it. Which was why when the giant golden Hadenman ship dropped suddenly out of hyperspace just above them, the whole crew took one look and all but shit themselves. The huge ship hung above them, dwarfing the Church vessel like a minnow next to a killer shark. The Church crew snapped to attention at their posts, their hands moving desperately over their control panels. Shields slammed into place as guns powered up, and even those whose piety wasn't all it might have been found a sudden need to send up prayers of the most fervent kind.

  The Hadenman ship opened fire, and the Divine Breath shuddered as disrupter cannon hammered against their shields. The Church ship fired back as fast as it could get its guns to bear, but the golden ship was impossibly fast for its size, and the crew of the Divine Breath knew they were hopelessly outclassed. They fought on anyway, not through their faith as much as because there was nothing else they could do. They couldn't drop into hyperspace without lowering their shields first, and the moment they did that the Hadenman ship would blow them apart.

  The Captain watched his shields go down one by one and called for more power, though he already knew he was using everything the ship's straining engines could produce. If he'd only had one of the new stardrives being produced on the planet below, he might have stood a better chance, and the irony was not lost on him. And then, as he searched frantically for something—anything—to do to hold off the inevitable, the great golden ship suddenly disappeared back into hyperspace, gone between one moment and the next.

  The Captain blinked a few times, clutched at the crucifix on his uniform collar, and muttered a few Hail Marys, and then sank back in his command chair, cold sweat slowly evaporating on his forehead. His ship had survived, but he was damned if he knew why. When he finall
y got his strength back he canceled Red Alert, ordered full damage reports, and a complete sensor sweep of the surrounding space, just in case. He then wondered what the hell he was going to say to the Cardinal down below. He'd have to be told, even though he'd probably shout a lot. The Captain frowned, trying hard to come up with some viable-sounding excuse that wouldn't get him court-martialed or excommunicated. There was no getting away from the fact that he and his crew had been caught with their pants around their ankles, but damn it, it had been a Hadenman ship! There weren't many who'd seen one of those in action and lived to tell of it. The Captain and his crew worked hard on their various excuses and explanations, which was at least partly why they never noticed the heavily shielded escape pod that the Hadenman ship had dropped just before it disappeared.

  The pod hurtled down through the buffeting clouds and howling winds, battered this way and that by the storm's fury, but still somehow holding to its planned descent. Inside the pod, Jack Random the professional rebel, Ruby Journey the ex-bounty hunter, and Alexander Storm the retired hero, clung desperately to their crash webbing and waited for the long drop into hell to end. The pod's outer hull groaned and squealed from the pressures it endured, and the sensors blinked out one by one till they were practically flying blind. The webbing cushioned and absorbed most of the shocks the pod encountered as it fell on and on into Technos III's turbulent atmosphere, but the three rebels were still flung this way and that in the webbings' restricted arcs.

  Storm gritted his teeth and tried hard to hang on to his last meal. Random ignored it all, concentrating on what he was going to do when he finally landed. It was his first time back in the business of armed rebellion, and while he was quite definitely looking forward to it, he couldn't help but worry. It had been a long time, and he wasn't all the man he used to be. Either way, it wouldn't stop him giving this mission his all. And if in the end everything went to hell in a handcart, what better way for a professional rebel to die than with gun and sword in his hand, and a pile of the enemy dead at his feet? Random sniffed sourly. Actually, he could think of a dozen better ways to make his final exit, mostly including a good wine and a bad woman, but he doubted he'd see any of them. Rebels rarely died in bed.