“To monsters?” said Silence.
“Many of them were human once,” said Lewis, locking Silence’s gaze with his own. “Some of them still remember. Do you remember, John Silence? Were you part of the decision to take all those made into monsters by Lionstone or Shub, all those poor unfortunates, and just dump them among all the other monsters on Shandrakor? To leave them there, so they could be forgotten?”
“Robert and Constance made the decision,” said Silence. “And I . . . went along with it. There was no way of curing or restoring them. Relocating them to Shandrakor seemed kinder than just killing them all.”
“Excuse me,” said Captain Price. “But what are you talking about?”
“One of the Golden Age’s nastier secrets,” said Lewis. “Back when the rogue AIs of Shub were still the official enemies of Humanity, they routinely captured and experimented on humans, making them over into monstrosities in their secret laboratories. Sometimes for information, sometimes as part of their psychological warfare. And sometimes the Empress Lionstone the Fourteenth ordered the same thing done in her secret laboratories, in her search for new weapons, or just for the fun of it. And then there was the Mater Mundi, trying to turn espers into super-espers and failing as often as not. So when the Great Rebellion was finally over, and we were all friends again, Robert and Constance were faced with the problem of what to do with all the leftover monsters, which had once been men and women. There was no place for monsters in the wonderful Golden Age King Robert and Queen Constance were determined to build, so they gathered up all the products of all the secret labs, and dumped them on Shandrakor, to live or die as best they could. And then the Empire did its best to forget they ever existed.”
“We had a civilization to rebuild,” said Silence. “We couldn’t do everything. We had to have priorities. We needed to spend our time on the problems we could solve. And if that makes us sound hard-hearted . . . we’d all been through a lot. We were all very tired.”
“I gave those monsters my word that they would go home again,” said Lewis. “And so they will. First as shock troops in our war with Finn, and then . . . as our lost children. Set a course for Shandrakor, Admiral.”
“Typical bloody Deathstalker,” said Silence. “Always being right.”
And so the fleet went to Shandrakor. Some were heard to say that though they’d sworn to follow the Deathstalker to Hell and back, they hadn’t necessarily meant it literally. But no one said it too loudly. Except for Brett Random, who made it very clear that there was no way he was going back down to the planet’s jungles, under any circumstances whatsoever. And to prove it, he locked himself in his quarters with several bottles of wine and barricaded the door. Rose reluctantly stayed behind too, to keep him company and stop him from getting hysterical. In the end, only Lewis and Jesamine descended to the surface of Shandrakor, in a simple pinnace. And only Silence turned up to see them leave.
“They’re calling this Deathstalker’s folly,” he remarked. “Everyone agrees you’re being very brave, but there’s already heated betting as to what condition you’ll return in, or even whether you’ll be back at all.”
“I hope you’re betting on us,” said Jesamine.
“Of course,” said Silence. “I never could resist the really long odds.” He looked back at Lewis. “Do some of them really remember being human? We had hoped . . . After all this time?”
“Yes,” said Lewis. “They remember the lives they had, the people they knew, the worlds they came from. And they dream of being able to go home again.”
“Lewis, they can’t.” Silence looked at the Deathstalker pleadingly. “We still have no idea how to undo what was done to them. Even Shub doesn’t know how. What could these monsters do, what could they be, on civilized worlds? Neither human nor alien, how would they ever fit in? Everyone they ever knew is dead and gone. They’d end up in zoos!”
“I gave them my word,” said Lewis.
“Then . . . they’re your responsibility, Deathstalker. Hopefully you’ll make a better job of it than I did, when it was my responsibility.”
Lewis guided the pinnace down into the nightmare jungles of Shandrakor, darting in and out of the higher treetops until he was finally able to land in the clearing that held the buried Deathstalker Standing. The air was hot and wet and sticky as Lewis and Jesamine stepped out of the ship and onto the dark spiky grass. Insects buzzed fiercely on the heavy air, and from all around came the roars and screams of life and death on Shandrakor, where every life-form preyed on every other life-form. Lewis looked carefully around him, keeping his hands near but not actually on his weapons. So far, nothing had entered the clearing. It looked pretty much as he remembered it, but with no signs of the extensive damage that had been done during the last attack of the Emperor’s troops. The fast-growing jungle had already covered over the scars. Lewis couldn’t even tell where the entrance to the Standing had been, before the castle’s ancient computers blew it up, as one last service to Clan Deathstalker. Tall, wide-boled trees formed a guardian circle around the clearing, and shadows moved among them. Jesamine wiped at her perspiring face with a cloth.
“There is definitely such a thing as too much sunshine, darling. God, it’s hot! And I really do hate this humidity. It does my skin no good at all. I just know I’m going to end up with another nasty heat rash.” She looked about her. “Where are they? They must have heard us land. You know, Lewis, I have to say that this doesn’t strike me as one of your better ideas.”
“Do you want to abandon them too?”
“Well, not as such, sweetie, but . . . shock troops, yes. I can see that. But what about afterwards?”
“I gave my word as a Deathstalker.”
Jesamine sighed. “Yes, dear, you did. Which was all very honorable. But you can’t feel guilty about everything the Empire did in the name of your legendary ancestor.”
“I can try to put things right. And I will. I have to. That’s what being a Deathstalker means. Especially when you’re the last one.”
He broke off, as he and Jesamine both looked round sharply. And one by one the monsters left the tree line and ventured into the clearing, emerging into the light of day like horrid ghosts from the eternal shadows of the jungle. There were all kinds, large and small, every possible example of mixed natures and merged genes. They moved in slowly from every side, wrapped in spiked armor and twisted shapes, with too many legs and eyes, or not enough, in forms so vile and so affecting that Lewis and Jesamine had to fight to keep from looking away. She stood very close to him, almost moved to tears at the horrible shapes that had once been men and women. She still kept her hand near her gun. The monsters filled the clearing, pressing slowly forward from every side until suddenly, at some unseen, unheard signal they all stopped. One creature came forward, to confront Lewis and Jesamine. It had been turned horribly inside out, its exposed red and purple organs gleaming wetly in the bright sunlight. A more or less human face had been stretched across its flayed chest. The mouth was wide and mobile, and the wide-set eyes . . . held no understandable emotion. The bulging body hung in a cage of thick-furred spindly legs.
“You came back,” it said.
“Yes,” said Lewis. “I told you I would.”
“So you did, Deathstalker.” The creature’s voice was a low hiss, the words elongated and strangely accented. “I think I had a name once, but that was long ago, and I don’t remember it. I remember some things, flashes of home and family, but not whether I was a man or a woman. It’s hard now to even think what that meant. I am Speaker; I am the voice of those who remember being other than monsters. Why have you come back, Deathstalker?”
“Because I made you a promise,” said Lewis. “I have a fleet of ships now. We’re going back to Logres, which was called Golgotha in your day, to throw a false Emperor off his stolen throne. I want you to come with us. All of you. Be my shock troops in this war. And afterwards . . .”
“Yes?” said Speaker. “What, afterwards?”
“You will all go home. We’ll search out what records remain, do our best to find out who and what you used to be. If all else fails, the espers will dig the truth out of your minds. But every damned one of you will go home. No one gets left out, no one gets left behind. Whatever can be done for you, to make you more . . . comfortable, will be done. Science has come a long way in two hundred years. Of course, this all depends on us winning the war . . .”
“We can fight,” said Speaker. “We know how to do that. Could we really be . . . cured? Made human again?”
“I don’t know,” Lewis said honestly. “But the blessed Owen has returned, more powerful than ever. I have seen him perform miracles. And there is always the Madness Maze. It transformed us; perhaps it can transform you.”
“We will go with you,” said Speaker. “Taking a chance on your name, and your word. But if we fight for you, and do not die, you must promise to kill us, rather than return us here. We will either live as human, or die as monsters. We could not stand . . . to have to live without hope.”
“I understand,” said Lewis. “I promise; I won’t let you down.”
“Not all of us want to go,” said Speaker. “Some have already said they won’t leave Shandrakor. They have forgotten what it was like to be other than what they are, or perhaps they no longer care. The jungle has become their home now. They belong here.”
“If I could speak to them . . .” said Lewis.
“They would kill you,” said Speaker. “They are only monsters now.”
“My offer will remain open,” said Lewis. “For as long as any of them live. Prepare yourselves, my friends. Your journey home begins.”
Remote-controlled cargo ships came floating down like autumn leaves at Lewis’s command, hundreds of them, enough to ferry the largest and the smallest creatures out of the clearing and up to the fleet. Remote-controlled, because no human pilot wanted to get too close to the legendary monsters of Shandrakor. The monsters understood. They weren’t ready to be seen by humans either. So they were parceled out among the various starcruisers, traveling in the mostly empty cargo bays, kept separate from the crews by guilt and fear and heavily locked doors.
Lewis’s next choice of destination was his home planet, Virimonde, and no one objected to that. Everyone understood his need to go home, to see for himself the terrible thing that Finn Durandal had ordered done to Clan Deathstalker, and their ancient Standing. It wouldn’t seem real until he had seen it with his own eyes. And no one at all doubted but that the people of that world would want to fight alongside the fleet. They were all born to be warriors, in honor of the blessed Owen. It fell to the knowledgeable Captain Price to explain to Lewis why the people of Virimonde had not already risen up in outrage against the massacre.
“There are two transmutation engines in high orbit around Virimonde,” said Price, keeping his voice carefully calm and neutral. “Any sign of rebellion on the world below, and the engines would turn the whole planet into a lifeless wasteland. Finn’s direct orders. The only reason he hasn’t used the engines already is that he undoubtably meant to use this threat to keep you in line, once you reappeared.”
Lewis nodded. He understood how Finn thought. “Program the starcruisers’ targeting computers to lock on to the engines. The moment we drop out of hyperspace, I want both those engines hit with every weapon we’ve got. Do a good job, Price; we won’t get a second chance at this. You can bet good money that Finn would have programmed the engines to strike at Virimonde the moment rebel ships arrived. Then, we’ll take time to check for hidden booby traps in orbit. Be very thorough, because you can be sure Finn was. We’re not going down to Virimonde until we’re sure it’s safe. For them, as well as us.”