Deathstalker Coda (48 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
And then Anne screamed. An ugly, tortured sound. She dropped both her swords. Douglas started forward, only to freeze again as Anne covered him with the disrupter built into her wrist. She smiled briefly at Douglas.
“Good-bye, old friend. I betrayed you so many times, but this would have been one betrayal too far. I guess they built me better than they knew. So—one last blast of the gun. One last chance for redemption.”
She lifted her hand, fighting her computers all the way, and shot herself in the head. At such close range, the energy beam blew her head apart, in a flurry of blood and brains. The headless body rocked back and forth on its feet for a moment, and then stood still.
Finn sent his people running in from all directions, but by the time they got to the laboratory Douglas was already gone. He left a trail of dead bodies behind him as he made his way back through the palace, and finally disappeared down into the subsystems again. And all the way he was planning the first steps of the rebellion. The time to rise up had come. Because if Finn could do such terrible things to the only woman who’d ever cared a damn for him, then he was capable of anything. Anything at all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WORKING WITH THE ILLUMINATI
T
he stars and the planets whirled by so fast they made a continuous shimmering rainbow path as Owen Deathstalker strode steadily back into the past, the galaxy turning under his feet like a giant cog wheel. He was too tired now for dancing, his spirit too weary, and yet he felt more powerful than ever, and his speed continued to increase. He was still following Hazel d’Ark’s trail, forever closing in but somehow never quite catching up. He felt like he’d always been pursuing Hazel, and always would, trapped in the rainbow run like a hamster in its wheel, only thinking it was getting somewhere.
he stars and the planets whirled by so fast they made a continuous shimmering rainbow path as Owen Deathstalker strode steadily back into the past, the galaxy turning under his feet like a giant cog wheel. He was too tired now for dancing, his spirit too weary, and yet he felt more powerful than ever, and his speed continued to increase. He was still following Hazel d’Ark’s trail, forever closing in but somehow never quite catching up. He felt like he’d always been pursuing Hazel, and always would, trapped in the rainbow run like a hamster in its wheel, only thinking it was getting somewhere.
Home seemed very far away now, and so did his humanity. He’d done so much, both before and since his death, and he felt like he could do so much more. He’d come a long way, in more ways than one. He wondered if the old Owen, the young scholar in his comfortable ivory tower, would even recognize the man he’d become. He liked to think he’d done good things, honorable things, in his short but remarkable life . . . but he had to wonder if it would ever be possible, or even advisable, for something as powerful as he now was to ever return to human society. Power tended to corrupt, he knew that from his studies of history, and he had made himself so very powerful. Would he ever see his home again, with or without Hazel?
That thought led naturally but uneasily to another.
What was he going to do, what could he hope to do, when he finally did catch up with Hazel? Was she destined to become the Terror, somewhere back in the unimaginable past, or could he somehow prevent it? And if the iron laws of cause and effect meant she had to become the Terror, and do all the awful things she did, could he win her back to sanity and humanity? Could she ever be just Hazel d’Ark again? Could he ever be just Owen Deathstalker again? Or had they both drunk too deeply from the poisoned chalice that was the Madness Maze?
Could they ever have a life together after this, or had he come all this way just to kill a monster, and die with her rather than become a monster himself? So many questions, and no answers at all. The only thing he was sure of was that he had to go on. Hazel was his love, and his responsibility, even if she’d never admitted it. He couldn’t leave her, mad and sorrowing, in the dark.
He was getting close to . . . something. He could feel it.
He broke out of the rainbow run, and dropped back into the slow steady course of time. Stars and planets reappeared around him, calm and stationary against the endless night. Owen wasn’t sure how far back he’d gone into the past, but once again he was hanging in orbit over the same familiar planet. Remembering how he’d been treated before, he surrounded himself with a powerful force shield and stealth screen, so that he could take a cautious look around before becoming involved, without having to worry about being observed or attacked.
He swore briefly as he discovered he’d just missed Hazel again. She had been here recently, perhaps as little as a few weeks previously, but she was gone again, diving even further back into prehistory. But why had she stopped here, however briefly, in this particular moment of time and space? Owen reached out with his enlarged senses, and immediately detected something strange and yet somehow familiar, down on the surface of the planet below. It sort of reminded him of Hazel. Had she left something of herself behind? It was a strong presence, powerful but elusive, with fluctuating attributes that reminded him of his time inside the Madness Maze. It definitely wasn’t Hazel, but . . . Could some other Maze survivor have come back through time, pursuing him as he pursued Hazel?
Owen pushed the mounting questions aside, so he could consider his own position. He listened in to the thousands of communication channels emanating from the planet below that was Logres, Golgotha, Heartworld, and now apparently simply the Hearth of Humanity. He sorted through the various frequencies, searching out the information he needed about exactly what lay below him. It seemed he had emerged in the far past, in the very first days of Empire, when Humanity had only just discovered the stardrive, and was setting out to explore the stars, to see what was there.
Owen stopped listening, and looked around him. Great clumsy satellites whirled ponderously past, accompanied by all kinds of abandoned junk and tech; almost enough to make a planetary ring. Owen drifted slowly down towards Hearth, just enough to put himself safely underneath their various orbits and out of their way. Also in orbit were huge, ungainly starships, being slowly put together in orbiting docks by people in what looked like primitive hard suits. The unfinished ships bristled with all kinds of probably untested tech. This was the first wave of expansion, Humanity’s first great leap out into the unknown. These brave prototype ships looked nothing like the sleek and sophisticated craft of Owen’s time, and he had to admire the courage of the visionary men and women who were ready to trust their lives to new ships and a barely understood drive, in the service of Humanity’s oldest dream. To go to the stars . . .
Owen went swiftly through the communication channels again, trying to get some feel for what kind of political setup he’d be facing this time. Apparently the Empire at this time consisted of the nine planets in the solar system, all of them terraformed or colonized to some degree, ruled more or less democratically by a Council of the Nine, based on Hearth. There was no throne, no Emperor. From what Owen could gather, Humanity was pretty much at peace with itself, and full of hope and good intentions.
The road to Hell has always been paved with good intentions.
Owen considered the planet turning so very slowly beneath him. He had to go down. He needed to know what it was, that felt to him like Hazel and the Maze and something more. And he was tired. He could use a rest. The pursuit could wait, for a while. After all, he had all the time in the world . . . And then his head snapped round, and he glared suspiciously into the dark. Something was coming his way, he could feel it, and it was heading straight for him. Even though nothing in this primitive age should have been able to detect his presence. He glared in the direction he knew it was coming from, even though he couldn’t see anything yet, and eventually a bright shining light came swooping towards him.
The light swiftly became a living thing, an entirely unfamiliar creature flapping towards him on huge butterfly wings almost thirty feet across. It moved easily through the cold vacuum of space, entirely unprotected, apparently driven only by its brightly shining wings. The body within the wingspan was basically humanoid, but in no way human. It was alien, in appearance and affect, a delicate flimsy creature of bright shimmering rainbow colors. It slowed to a halt about a dozen feet away from Owen, and considered him with a face that was somehow even more disturbing for its vague human connections. The eyes were huge and dark and unblinking, taking up almost a third of the long pointed face, and the mouth below was a simple slit. Two long slender antennae streamed up from the bulging brow. The vast rainbow wings rippled slowly, as though holding the creature in place against unfelt astral winds.
For a moment, Owen wondered if perhaps he’d died, and this was some angel sent to finally bring him home, but the creature was just too obviously alien for that. Owen slowly raised a hand and waved politely, and words sounded suddenly in his head, sliding smoothly through his thoughts like bitter honey. They certainly weren’t coming through his comm implant.
“Greetings to you, strange traveler. I am of the Illuminati. We heard you thinking up here, so I came to see what new marvel had come to Hearth. We are strangers here, traveling on our way, but you . . . you appear human. Though humans don’t normally survive long in open space.”
Owen pushed his thoughts in the creature’s direction, and it seemed to pick them up easily enough. “Hi there. I am human, or at least I used to be. I suppose human is as human does. I’m . . . just visiting. May I ask what you are?”
“The name for my people translates into your tongue as Luminary Beings, or Light People. Since we have been here, we have adopted the old human name of Illuminati. I myself have taken the name Lucifer.”
Owen blinked a few times. “I’m not sure you’ve really understood the implications of that name.”
“It means light-bringer, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but . . . no, forget it. Life’s too short to explain some things. I’m Owen.”
“Hello, Owen. May I inquire as to how you’re able to survive in open space without exploding, boiling, or otherwise perishing in a very messy manner?”
“I haven’t been entirely human for a long time,” said Owen. “I’m still trying to decide whether that’s a good thing. Long story; basically I’m traveling back through time from your future, searching for a friend who came this way before me. Her name is Hazel d’Ark. Have you encountered her, by any chance?”
“I do not recognize the name, Owen. I have to say I’m impressed. My people have traveled in space long and far and wide, and we have never encountered any species that could move at will in time. May I inquire as to your intentions here?”
“Well, since we’re both being so very polite and civilized . . . I thought I’d take a rest stop, and take a look around. See what there is to see.”
“I’m not sure that’s entirely wise,” said Lucifer. “The people of this world are not ready for contact with a being of your power and abilities. I can sense strange energies, within and around you. Your presence could terrify and traumatize the people of this time, perhaps even anger them to violence. They have very little experience with beings other than themselves.”
“Did they treat you badly?” said Owen, frowning.
“Not as such. I think it would be best if you came down and spoke with my people first. I understand that I cannot coerce you, but I assure you there are things we know that you do not, and that you need to know.” The alien studied Owen’s face for a long moment, with its flat black unblinking eyes. “You are not just looking for your friend. I see something in you . . . an old, familiar fear. You know of the great and ancient evil that destroyed my people, and a civilization millions of years old. You know of the entity we call the Terror.”
“Yes. Perhaps we should speak,” Owen said carefully. “Any idea on how I can descend to the surface without being spotted? My stealth field will shield me from electronic eyes, but not material ones. Hey . . . wait a minute. How were you able to find me?”
“Few things are hidden from the Illuminati,” said Lucifer. “You shine so very brightly in our minds, like a part of ourselves we had forgotten. Follow me.”
It unfurled its great butterfly wings, flapped them like huge sails, and a shining silver tunnel appeared in space below it, dropping endlessly away. Lucifer dived into it, and after a quick mental shrug, so did Owen. If nothing else, a meeting with these Light People should be interesting. He was pretty sure the Ecstatic named Joy had mentioned them once. And then, as suddenly as he’d entered the silver tunnel, Owen was out the other end, and dropping through open air towards a great green lawn. He landed easily, and the Illuminati drifted down to settle beside him. The silver tunnel had already disappeared.
It was a bright sunny day, and Owen took a deep lungful of good clean air. Natural sounds swept over him from all directions, a happy contrast to the cold and empty silence of space. Even the sun felt warm and refreshing. He smiled broadly, and looked around him.
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