Deathstalker Legacy

by Simon R. Green

  "Rose; what have you done?"

  "I would have thought that was obvious," said Rose. She was wearing her crimson leathers, and Brett couldn't tell if she had blood on her. Her long legs were elegantly crossed, and she was smiling easily. "I killed everyone here, just for the hell of it. Cut them down, one at a time, after I'd sealed all the doors. A lot of them tried to run, but hardly anyone put up a fight. Still, that wasn't the point of the exercise, this time. I killed them because I wanted to. Just for the fun of it. Because I wanted to compare the familiar joys of slaughter to the new pleasures you've been teaching me. For a long time, murder was my only satisfaction. Killing was sex, and my victims death was my orgasm. I was happy, content. And then you showed me there was more than that. Something new, and unsettling. I liked it, Brett. I like you. But I needed to be sure, so I came here." Rose looked around her fondly. "And you know what, Brett? This is the real me. This is what I want. This is where I belong."

  Brett screamed. He didn't mean to, but it just ripped out of him. He turned and ran from the bar, still screaming. He didn't dare look back, for fear Rose might be coming after him. To kiss him or kill him, or both. He tore through the foyer and out into the street again, clenching his teeth together now to hold the screams inside. He made himself slow to a fast walk. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. Didn't want anyone to be able to connect him with the atrocity inside the Wild Wood. He jumped on the first crosstown transport he could find, and sat alone at the back, hugging himself tightly to keep himself from shaking and falling apart.

  And the worst part of it all was the horrid suspicion that he might have been the cause of all this; by trying to teach Rose Constantine to be human.

  He went back to Finn Durandal's apartment, because he didn't know where else to go. Finn wasn't there. Brett paced back and forth, chewing on a white knuckle, trying to think what to do. Rose was out of control, Finn's ambitions were out of sight, and he… he had had enough. Brett stopped pacing. He had had enough. To hell with Finn, and Rose, and all the other pressures that were eating him alive, and making him into the kind of man he'd always despised. The kind who just went along with things they knew were wrong, because they were too scared not to. No, it was time for Brett to do what he did best; run.

  But he couldn't just leave. He needed ammunition; something he could take with him that would keep Finn off his back. Something sufficiently incriminating to keep the Durandal from even looking for him. Brett looked thoughtfully at Finn's computer, and then sat down before it and fired it up. Breaking into Finn's secret files was no big deal for someone of Brett's wide-ranging talents, especially when he just happened to know a whole bunch of entry codes that Finn didn't know Brett had. Amazing what you could see over someone's shoulder from the other side of the room, if you knew what you were doing. Brett found a set of files that looked particularly interesting, protected by some frankly amateurish firewalls, and opened them up. And that was when Brett came to his second great shock of the day.

  Finn was planning to use some (unnamed) allies to track down and ambush every single Paragon, once they were safely isolated from backup, on their great Quest. Because the Paragons were the only real threat remaining to Finn's plans. Brett was horrified. He'd always secretly admired the Paragons; not least because they were everything he was not. They were the kind of people he just knew his legendary ancestors would have approved of, while he very definitely was not. Brett had no doubt this threat was real. It was exactly the kind of cold-blooded, logical thing Finn would do. Never mind that these people were his ex-partners, and (supposedly) friends. Never mind the importance of their Quest. They were in Finn's way, so they had to go.

  Brett downloaded the files onto a data crystal, and then shut down the computer, after taking steps to ensure no one would ever know he'd been there. And then he got up and did some more pacing back and forth, pausing now and again to kick the furniture. He had to tell someone… but who could he tell? Who would listen, to someone like him? Who could he turn to, who might not already be one of Finn's people? The Durandal had allies everywhere now. Some who knew what he was, and some who didn't. Either way; no one was going to believe a proven con man, even with the data crystal… Showing it to the wrong person would be his death warrant…

  So Brett did what he always did when faced with danger and a problem he couldn't solve; he ran away.

  He ran back into the Rookery; still the best place for anyone looking to disappear from the world for a while. Brett had a number of boltholes he'd gone to great pains to keep concealed from Finn; just in case things didn't work out. One of them was a very secret establishment belonging to an old friend; a human/alien hybrid called Nikki Sixteen, who ran a specialist brothel called Loving The Alien. A very private, very discreet operation, serving a very select clientele. Basically, it was a knocking shop for people who liked having sex with aliens.

  Humans having sex with aliens was extremely illegal, for all kinds of moral, philosophical, and political reasons. (Aliens might be equal, but they weren't that equal.) So while establishments like Loving The Alien inevitably existed, they could only thrive safely in the Rookery, where no one cared what or who you did, as long as your credit was good. To be fair, most alien species were just as opposed to the practice, for their own complicated reasons. And on the rare occasions when humans and aliens proved interfertile, the hybrid results could only exist safely in places like the Rookery. Nikki Sixteen ran her place at least partly as an act of rebellion and defiance; making it possible for the like-minded to get together. For a price. And she only sometimes recorded what went on in her sound-proofed rooms, for blackmail or retail purposes. Because a girl had to make a living. Even if she was only partly a girl.

  Nikki Sixteen was half human, half N'Jarr. Seven feet tall, she was a dark blue/gray color, with interlocking bony plates forming a protective carapace down the length of her back. Her strikingly pretty face was dominated by a smile that stretched almost literally from ear to ear, huge faceted eyes, and a pair of disturbingly hairy antennae rising from her bald skull. Her movements tended to be sudden and jerky, and her two sets of elbows gave her wide theatrical gestures an impressive breadth and impact. Her sheer presence could be disturbing, and even intimidating, and she gave off a sharp, spicy aroma that sometimes brought tears to the eye, but on the other hand she had six magnificent breasts, so… She also had more metal piercings that most people felt comfortable contemplating, that chimed and jangled as she moved. She was warm and friendly and very touchy-feely, and entirely cold-blooded when it came to making business decisions. She and Brett had been friends and rivals and partners for many years, and had worked together on many cons and stings; a few of which were still legendary, even in the Rookery. Loving The Alien was one of the few places where Brett could hope to crash for a while with a price on his head and still feel safe. And of course no one who saw him there would turn him in, because then they'd have to explain what they were doing in such a place… On the other hand, it had to be said that Nikki wasn't always glad to see him.

  "Oh shit; what the hell are you doing here?" Nikki said in her rough smoky voice, as Brett came slouching into her parlor. "Every time you show up here, it means trouble. I'd ban you if I thought it would do any good. Who have you got mad at you this time?"

  "Pretty much everybody," said Brett, slumping into the nearest comfortable chair, and looking longingly at the drinks cabinet. "I just need somewhere to go to ground for a while, while I figure out what to do next. Any chance of a drink, Nikki? I could murder a drink."

  "Don't get comfortable," said Nikki. "You're not staying. All my rooms are full, and with things the way they are these days, I can't afford to turn away business. And no, you can't sleep in my cellar again. I'm having it turned into a fun and games room, and decent sound-proofing is costing me an arm and a mandible. And you missed my last birthday."

  "Don't be like this, Nikki; I'm in real trouble this time."

  "That's what
you always say."

  "And usually I'm right. Come on, Nikki; if I hadn't overseen those last few scams for you, you'd never have got enough money together to set up this place. You owe me."

  Nikki sniffed loudly. "And you've never ceased to hold that over my head; particularly when you need something. Oh hell; I never could say no to you, Brett. I always did have a weakness for charming, feckless bastards with more ambition than sense. You can sleep in my room for a while. And you can lose that look right now; sleep is all you'll be doing there. You couldn't afford me these days. And try and keep to yourself while you're here. You know how my customers spook when they see an unfamiliar face." She poured him a large brandy, thrust it ungraciously into his hand, and then cocked her head unnaturally far to one side as she studied him thoughtfully. "Something's spooked you, Brett. It's been a long time since I saw you looking this shit scared. What's happened?"

  "Trust me, Nikki," said Brett, staring into his glass. "You really don't want to know."

  "That bad, eh? Last I heard, you were working for the Durandal. Good gig, by all accounts. Part of this great and glorious scheme he's been peddling all over the Rookery. Not that I want anything to do with it. Always knew he was too good to be true, that one. Don't tell me you've had a falling out with the one real success story you've ever been involved with?"

  "Everyone has a line they won't cross," said Brett, looking at her with such painful honesty that for a moment she hardly recognized him. "It seems I've found mine, Nikki. Bit of a shock, at my advanced age, to discover I have something disturbingly like a conscience… I'm not a bad man, Nikki. Not really. A crook, a con man, and a bit of a scumbag on occasion; but I never thought of myself as a bad man until now… Some of the things I've done or been a party to, in Finn's employ, I have to wonder if I'll ever be able to wash the stench off. And no; I'm not going to tell you what. For your own protection. And because you're my friend, and I want you at least to be able to sleep at night without nightmares."

  Nikki knelt down beside him, and put a long comforting arm across his shoulders. "You're safe here, Brett. I won't let them get to you."

  "I can't stay here long. People will be looking for me. And if Finn even suspected you knew what I know, he'd burn this place down, with you and everyone else in it."

  "Then you need to get offplanet," said Nikki. "Put Logres behind you, till things have calmed down again. These things pass; they always do. Want me to arrange a new face and ID so you can buy a ticket?"

  "No good," said Brett. "Finn's got people everywhere these days. No matter who you got to do the work, someone would talk. I'm going to have to steal a ship. Any ideas?"

  "Well; at least you're still thinking big." Nikki frowned, her antennae twitching thoughtfully. "There's always the Hereward; a luxury racing yacht currently standing empty on the pads at the main starport. Fast as hell, and twice as comfortable. No weapons, but you can't have everything. As it happens, I've got the captain and owner upstairs, hip deep in a Thardian. Easy enough to acquire the ship's access codes from his wallet, while he's preoccupied. You want me to arrange it?"

  "If you would, Nikki."

  "Anything to get you out of here, darling."

  She rose to her full height and left, her piercings clattering loudly. Brett gulped down the last of the brandy. A new world meant starting over again from scratch, but there was always an opening for someone with his kind of skills. There were always suckers, just sitting up and begging to be fleeced. Brett considered the data crystal burning a hole in his pocket, and wondered what the hell he was going to do with it. He ought to tell someone what he knew, before he left. If only so the information wouldn't be lost if Finn managed to have him killed before he got offworld. There were any number of media shows who would broadcast the data happily enough without any provenance, but they were the kind of shows no one took seriously anyway. He needed someone honest and respectable he could turn the crystal over to; but unfortunately Brett didn't know people like that.

  He was still turning the matter over and over in his mind, and trying to work up the energy to go looking for another drink, when the parlor door crashed open and Rose Constantine stalked in. Brett actually shrieked out loud as he jumped up out of his chair and backed away from her. He got ready to run, but she already had her gun in her hand, and he knew he'd never make it. He thought about jumping her, and immediately thought better of it. So he just froze where he was, gasping for breath, his hands shaking, and hoped Nikki wouldn't come back until it was all over. "How did you find me?" Brett said finally, and was surprised at how calm he sounded. There was a certain peace to knowing you'd finally run out of options.

  "Finn has a file on you," said Rose. "You'd be surprised at all the things he knows about you. About all sorts of people."

  "Nothing that bastard does surprises me anymore," said Brett. "He's planning to ambush every Paragon on the Quest. Did you know that?"

  "No," said Rose. "I didn't know. And I don't care. Is that why you broke and ran? You care about the strangest things, Brett."

  "Do it," said Brett. "Get it over with. Kill me, and get out of here. No one else has to die. Surely you've killed enough people for one day."

  "There's no such thing as enough," said Rose, smiling for the first time with her savage scarlet rosebud mouth. "Finn sent me here. He wants you dead. In fact, he was very specific about how he wants you to die. I think he wants to send a message to anyone else who might consider running out on him. I have to say, that what he had in mind was so appallingly nasty that even I was impressed. I don't think I've ever seen him quite so angry. He wants me to bring him back your heart, as proof of the kill. But I've decided that I'm not going to do that. Because I like you, Brett. So I'm going to run away with you."

  Brett hadn't thought it was possible for him to feel even more horrified, but that did it. Still, freaked as he was, he had enough sense not to say it. "That's… nice, Rose. I'm sure I'll feel much… safer, with you around. But you can't kill any more bars! Really you can't. It attracts attention.

  And if we're going to run, we've got to get offworld before Finn and his people discover we've joined forces. Even you can't fight a whole army. I've made arrangements to steal a racing yacht right off the main pads… Is that all right with you?"

  "Of course," said Rose. "You understand about these things. Leaving Logres is the only sensible thing to do. This world belongs to Finn now, even if a few people haven't worked that out yet. I never liked the Durandal. He's weird. I know you think I'm strange, Brett, and maybe I am, but trust me; Finn is crazier than I will ever be. I at least care about a few things, and a few people. Finn doesn't care about anything. Possibly not even himself. And that's what makes him really dangerous. He will be King, and then the whole Empire will be his, to do with as he pleases. Then where will we run? I think we need to join up with Lewis Deathstalker. Also on the run, in case you hadn't heard. He is possibly the only man who fights as well as I do, and he has even more reasons than we do to bring about the Durandal's downfall. We will be stronger and safer together."

  "If we can find him, sure," said Brett. "That's… good thinking, Rose. But we can't afford the time to go looking for him."

  "We won't have to. He will be looking to leave Logres too, which means he'll be looking for a ship, just like us. I wouldn't be surprised if we fell over each other at the starport. Where were you thinking of going, after we leave Logres?"

  "Hadn't thought that far ahead," Brett admitted. "Rim worlds, I suppose, Terror or no. Not very civilized, and definitely short on the comforts, but the farther we get from Finn, the better."

  "I could always stay," Rose said wistfully. "Kill Finn myself. I'd enjoy killing Finn."

  "No, Rose!" Brett said immediately. "You can bet he's got plans in place, to protect himself from you. He doesn't trust you anymore; if he ever did. His security people would shoot you down from a safe distance before you got anywhere near him. He sent you after me to see what you'd do. Damn! He
probably had you followed!"

  "Of course he did," said Rose. "I killed the fellow, right outside Finn's apartment, and stuck his head on a parking meter. No one else tried to follow me. I'd know. You mustn't worry so, Brett. We were meant to be together, you and I. Nothing is ever going to part us."

  If I had any sense, I'd kill myself right now and get it over with, Brett thought miserably.

  Lewis Deathstalker and Jesamine Flowers went to visit the Dust Plains of Memory. To learn the truth at last, the history from which legends derived. Lewis wasn't sure he wanted that, after so many disappointments and heartbreaks, but he needed to know, so he hardened his heart and went anyway.

  The two of them traveled across the city hidden behind holo disguises, using public transport where possible, sticking to the most-traveled routes, hiding in plain sight. Samuel Chevron had smuggled them out of the Bloody Tower by an old hidden route that only he seemed to know about, and the moment they were outside he gave Lewis a notebook containing directions and access codes, written personally on paper, just like in all the old spy shows, so that the contents couldn't be scanned by remote security checks. The handwriting was clear and old-fashioned. Chevron and Vaughn disappeared while Lewis and Jesamine were still studying it.

  The instructions led them down into the labyrinth of ancient tunnels that still existed under the Parade of the Endless from before Lionstone's day. The service and maintenance tunnels, tucked away out of sight so the city's populace wouldn't have to see the hard grubby work that kept the city gleaming and perfect. Most of this work was done by robots these days, of course, run by Shub on sub-routines. None of them paid Lewis and Jesamine any attention as they made their way deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. Chevron's access codes opened most of the closed doors that blocked their way, and Lewis's skeleton key took care of the rest.