Deathstalker Destiny (59 page)

“Well,” said a strangely familiar voice, behind him. “It took you long enough to get here.”

Owen spun around sharply, and then winced as the still healing wound in his side flared up. And then he forgot all about that as he found himself looking at ... himself. Owen Deathstalker, exact in every detail, was standing facing him, hands on hips, studying him critically.

“Who the hell are you?” said Owen.

“Wrong question,” said his double calmly. “You should have asked,
What are you?
Here’s a clue.”

First the face and then the shape of Owen’s double ran like liquid, and the whole form reshaped itself in a moment, becoming instead an exact duplicate of Giles Deathstalker. He smiled charmingly at Owen, an expression that didn’t really suit Giles’s face. Then the double quickly realized that this identity didn’t appeal to Owen either, judging by his deepening frown, and changed again, becoming Cathy DeVries, Owen’s old mistress and dead love.

“That better?” said Cathy.

“Depends,” said Owen. “What the hell are you?”

“I have many names, but one nature. Many forms and none. I am older than your Empire, and indeed your entire species, and I am every dream you ever had, including the ones that made you cry out in the night. I’m also responsible for everything happening here, though I don’t like to boast. Well, I do, but I’m programmed against it. I created the Madness Maze, and I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you, Owen Deathstalker.”

Owen paused for a moment, considering this, and then decided to stick with the part he could understand. “Why did you look like me, and then Giles, and now Cathy?”

“To put you at your ease.”

“Trust me,” said Owen. “It’s not working.”

Cathy shrugged. “There’s only so much I can do. I have a vast repertoire of shapes and forms, but you wouldn’t like most of them. I think I’ll stick with this one for the time being, or at least until I get bored. I’ve been studying Humanity for longer than you could comfortably comprehend, and I’m still no nearer understanding you. You’re remarkably complex for such a limited life-form. But then, it’s that potential that makes you perfect for our needs. We seem to be drifting away from the point of this conversation. Would it help you if I explained that I am in fact an ancient, semi-sentient recording, left behind by a mighty and noble species that passed through your galaxy long ago?”

Owen considered this. “Possibly. You’re just... a recording? Not an actual member of your species?”

“Alas, no. You couldn’t cope with the real thing. But I am a fairly accurate recreation of as much of us as you could hope to comprehend.”

“Wait a minute,” said Owen. “I have this horrid feeling I’ve seen you before. You’re that shape-changing alien who appeared in Lionstone’s Court a few years back, disguised as a priest! I saw the holo recording. Silliest damn thing I ever saw. Everyone wondered why we’d never encountered your species before, and why we could never find a trace of you or your kind again.”

“Oh yes,” said Cathy cheerfully. “That was me. Or rather, one of me. I am widely spread, with parts of me everywhere Humanity goes, watching and recording. Forbidden to interfere directly, of course. I follow the path I was created to follow, and you’ve no idea how frustrating that can be. Humans can be so exasperating. Give them three choices, and they’ll come up with a fourth every time. Sometimes I think they just do it to be perverse. Luckily I’m only semi-sentient, or I’d have washed my hands of you long ago.”

“Slow down a bit,” said Owen, just a little desperately. “You’re all that’s left of a shape-changing species that passed through long ago. Okay. Where did you come from, and where did you go?”

“We came from outside your galaxy, long and long ago. As to where we went, you’re not ready to know that. You’ve come a long way, Owen Deathstalker, but you’re still basically human. Trust me; it’s not anywhere Humanity could hope to follow. Not until your species has done a hell of a lot more evolving, anyway. Why don’t you ask me what we did, while we were here? That’s much more interesting.”

“Might as well,” Owen said resignedly. “This is going to take some time, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes,” said Cathy. “I’ve got such a lot to tell you. But at least after you’ve heard it all, your life may make a little more sense. You are the final product of generations of planning, Owen Deathstalker, not all of it human. Shall we be seated?”

Two comfortable chairs appeared out of nowhere. Owen and Cathy sat down facing each other. Beside them, the baby slept peacefully in its glowing crystal, sucking its tiny thumb.

“We created the Madness Maze to raise Humanity to its full potential,” said the alien recording with Cathy’s face. “But somehow, it didn’t work out that way. The first to discover the Maze were the Blood Runners, and they were frightened, and ran away. The Hadenmen scientists came out of the Maze with the right idea, the perfectibility of Mankind, but they got the method all wrong. They tried to do it with tech, when all they really needed was the Maze, and faith in themselves. They were already superhuman, but they couldn’t believe it was possible without tech. Humanity has always been rather small, not to say limited, in its thinking. The Wolfings were really just a mistake; amplifying Mankind’s animal heritage, looking back instead of forward.”

Cathy leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Owen’s. “Humanity must evolve; become more than it is, achieve its full potential. You have to. Something awful is coming, from far beyond your galaxy. It’s not life as you know it; it’s strange and terrible, awful and mighty, totally destructive and utterly unstoppable. They destroyed most of my species. A great and ancient civilization, blown away to dust, and less than dust. Just a few of us escaped, and fled here, to your galaxy. They had no name for themselves that we could understand. What we called them translates simply as, the Terror.

“They move slowly. Because of their size and nature they don’t need or use starships or stardrives, so they move at less than light speed. But the Terror destroyed every living thing in our galaxy, and they are coming here. Slowly, but they are coming, and you must be prepared and ready to meet them. As you are now, you have nothing that could stand against them. The Recreated in their insanity are but the merest glimpse of the true horror of the Terror. They eat souls, and their young incubate in suns. They are extradimensional creatures, beyond your comprehension, and all of Space and Time is their prey. As flies to wanton boys are we to the Terror.

“You are not the first species we have tried to raise to a higher level. We’ve been here in your galaxy for some considerable time. We tried with a species on the world you call Wolf IV. We taught them to transform themselves as we do, but they gave in to their own inner demons, and destroyed themselves. We tried again, with another species, on the planet you call Grendel. They transformed themselves into living killing machines, in their fear, and placed themselves in suspended animation in their Vaults, to await the coming of the Terror. This was not what was intended. Next, we created the metallic forests on Unseeli, for the Ashrai, and they became ... farmers, interested only in preserving the trees, instead of using them to spur their own evolution. Finally, we turned to Humanity. Small as you were, we saw the potential for greatness in you.

“This time, we decided not to just give you the benefits we brought. Instead, we created the Maze, and left it for you to search out and investigate for yourselves. Hopefully that would make you value it more. And eventually, after many false starts, you and your companions came to the Maze and passed all the way through, and emerged transformed. The first butterflies from a race of caterpillars. It had taken a while, but at last the Maze had found the right sort of people; intense, focused, determined people.”

“But ... what
did
the Maze do to us, really?” said Owen. “I thought at first we were some kind of super-esper, but we’re not. What are we, now?”

“You are what Humanity would have become, in its far and distant future. The Maze just speeded evolution up a bit. A shortcut. You have the power to change reality itself through force of will.” Cathy smiled at his expression. “Didn’t any of you ever realize? It expressed itself differently in each of you, according to your individual needs and propensities, but really any of you could have done anything the others did. If you just had faith. Only your own limited thinking held you back. Of course; you were all supposed to stay and work together. The whole would have been far greater than the sum of its parts. But you insisted on going your own, separate ways. Humans... That’s why so many people died or went insane trying to pass through the Maze. It could only help and change those flexible enough to change their thinking. Those too rigid in their thoughts, too unworthy or too scared to change, broke rather than be transformed. Their madness and death came from inside themselves, not from the Maze.”

“Let’s talk about the baby,” said Owen. “What’s his part in all this?”

“When Giles died, the baby somehow knew it,” said Cathy. “He began to wake, drifting slowly up from the protecting depths of sleep. The Recreated sensed this, and became desperate. If the baby were to wake, then the source of their power, their very existence, was under threat.”

“Is that what triggered the Recreated’s great assault on Humanity?” said Owen. “By killing Giles, am I responsible for their attack?”

“No. They started out of the Darkvoid after Captain Silence destroyed the Maze. In fact, it had only jumped forward through Time, but the Recreated didn’t know that. All they knew was that the source of their power was suddenly gone. They were able to survive, until the Maze returned, but the experience panicked them. You now know all you need to know. It’s time we began the last part of your journey. Of your destiny.”

Cathy rose to her feet, and Owen did so too. The chairs disappeared silently. Cathy turned her gaze on the sleeping baby, and after a moment Owen did so too.

“He is your kin, your Family,” said Cathy softly. “You are both Deathstalkers. Talk to him, Owen. He will hear you.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Owen protested. “And anyway, he’s still asleep.”

“Reach out to him,” said Cathy. “He’ll hear you.”

Owen turned to look at the sleeping baby, and found his eyes were already open and looking at him. They were dark eyes, like his, but clear and calm and full of wonder. Owen reached out with his mind, and the baby’s thoughts came to meet him. They blazed like fireworks, like comets in the night, blindingly bright and gaudily colored, and at first all Owen could understand was the baby’s feelings; warm and loving and surprisingly trusting. Owen opened himself to the baby, who learned words and concepts from him in a moment. The baby’s mind was very large, though strangely unfocused in places, and Owen felt like a single fish in a sentient ocean. He worried briefly that he might drown there, but the baby quickly broadcast reassurance. They relaxed together, concentrating on their link. The baby had learned much from the Maze, but people were still new to him. Two Maze-altered Deathstalkers communed in an alien place, and found joy in each other. They talked, sometimes in words and sometimes not, like father and child, and more and less than that.

Whatever you need,
said Owen.
But what can I do?

Owen smiled down at the baby, who removed the tiny thumb from his mouth so he could smile back. And then the baby closed his dark, knowing eyes and went back to sleep, considering how to change the universe again. Owen looked at the alien with Cathy’s face.

“Well; that was... different. I like him. So; what is it I have to do? What can one man do, against something like the Recreated?”

Cathy looked at him steadily. “This is the final part of your destiny, Owen. You have to distract the Recreated; hold their attention and keep them occupied, while the baby prepares for what he will do next. All the Recreated, not just the few facing Hazel and the others above this world. If the Recreated understand the baby is working against them, they might try to drive hm back into the depths of sleep again. They might even risk destroying him, and if the baby dies, all hope for Humanity’s survival dies with him. It’s all down to you, Owen.”

“Whatever it is, it must be really bad, or you wouldn’t keep putting it off. Tell me. I can take it.” Owen glared at Cathy, who stared sadly back at him. Owen sighed. “I’m really not going to like this, am I?”

 

On the bridge of the
Sunstrider,
Hazel was living her dream. The ship’s new weapons fired over and over again, but the numbers of the Recreated seemed endless. Her targets were so large she couldn’t miss, but it was hard to do any real damage to anything so vast. She kept the
Sunstrider
weaving and dodging, eluding crippling energy blasts and mile-long tentacles with barbs the size of her ship, but the Recreated were everywhere now and she couldn’t dodge them all. Her shields were going down, and the
Sunstrider
was taking more and more damage, some of it really bad.

Alarm sirens wailed continuously until she turned them off. They weren’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. One side of the control panels had exploded, filling the bridge with leaping flames and black billowing smoke. Hazel had put out the main fires, but flames still flickered here and there, casting dark leaping shadows across the bridge. The extractor fans were working overtime, trying to clear the smoke from the air. Hazel barely noticed. All her attention was plugged into the weapon controls and navigation systems now, as she fought her way doggedly through the endless ranks of the Recreated. She targeted and fired her guns over and over, delighting in her small victories, but she was deathly tired now, and she could feel the
Sunstrider
slowly dying around her. Even a ship rebuilt by the Maze could only take so much punishment.