Deathstalker Return (24 page)

They both turned away from the mirror at the same time, and sat down together on the end of the bed. There were things they needed to talk about, things they’d been putting off, but the time had come. They could feel it. Lewis jumped in first, as he always did.

“We can’t go to Haden. We’re not ready, Jes. Not yet.”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been to Lachrymae Christi before?”

“God, no, darling! Can’t think of many who have, by choice. It may not be a leper colony anymore, but it’s still a desolate bloody place by all accounts, at the arse end of civilization, with no comforts to speak off and not a single theater worth playing. Whole planet is one big jungle, and they probably eat tourists on sight.”

“We have to go there, Jes.”

“I know, I know . . .”

“Tobias Moon is still there—still alive, supposedly. The only remaining survivor of the Madness Maze, from the age of the Great Rebellion. Owen’s companion, and his friend. If he’s still alive, and if he’ll talk to us, Moon could tell us things that no one else could.”

“Not the only Maze survivor,” said Jesamine. “Samuel Chevron turned out to be really John Silence, remember?”

“Was he? He claimed to be Chevron to us, and Silence to Carrion, but he also claimed to be dead. So I think I’ll take everything he said with several grains of salt, until I’ve some way of confirming he is who he says he is.”

“Carrion recognized him as Silence.”

“Carrion has been living as an Ashrai for two centuries. After that long, probably all humans look the same to him.”

“But he might be John Silence. And he said we should go straight to Haden.” Jesamine frowned, and shuddered suddenly. “He wanted us to go into the Madness Maze. I don’t think I could do that, Lewis. Not ever. It might kill us, or make us something other than human, and I don’t know which scares me more.”

“I think we’re all scared of the Maze, Jes,” said Lewis, kissing her bare shoulder reassuringly. “All the more reason to acquire as much dependable information as we can before we even think about going anywhere near Haden. Besides, Haden is the one place Finn will be sure to think we’re going to. You can bet good money he’s arranged a really nasty surprise for us there. No, first Tobias Moon, and then we’ll think about Haden—and the Maze.”

“He could be dead. No one’s seen Moon for years.”

“He was a Hadenman, before he went into the Maze. God knows what he was afterwards.”

“I don’t think God has anything to do with the Maze,” Jesamine said softly.

 

 

Some time later, fully dressed and properly turned out, they went back to the bridge. Rose was sitting cross-legged on the floor in one corner, polishing her sword blade with long, easy strokes of the cloth. She didn’t look up at their entrance. Brett was sitting slumped in the pilot’s chair, scowling at nothing. He jumped up immediately when Lewis came in, and slouched over to lean against the far wall. Lewis hid a smile. He knew what was wrong with Brett Random. The con man had emptied the medicine cabinet of every drug worth taking, and never being one to plan ahead where his pleasures were concerned, had used them all up. Brett had spent the last several days entirely sober, loudly declaring it to be an unnatural state, and that he hated it. Even alien porn had lost its thrill. Although he would never have admitted it, Brett was actually grateful to Rose for insisting on dueling lessons. They stopped him going crazy from boredom. He shot Lewis and Jesamine a sulky glare, for being so cheerful.

“Well, look who’s finally emerged from the Cabin of Joy. I take it the bedroom gymnastics are over, for now? You’re using up your gos, you know. If you’re not careful, you’ll run out.”

“Oz, talk to me,” said Lewis, ignoring Brett with the ease of long practice. “How much further to Lachrymae Christi?”

“We’re there!” said the ship’s AI cheerfully. “We dropped out of hyperspace and moved into high orbit just over four hours ago. No one else could have got you here this quickly. I’m just a navigating fool. Grease my circuits and call me Speedy! You don’t appreciate me, you know.”

“We’re here?” said Lewis. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were otherwise engaged,” Ozymandias said loftily. “And very noisily, too. Far be it from me to interrupt. If you’re ready to get involved in the mission again, I’ll bring you up to date on everything that’s been happening.”

“Don’t you get snotty with me,” Lewis growled. “You’re just a porn smuggler’s ship’s AI with a quick personality overlay.”

“I’m also the only one around here who can work out hyperspace reentry coordinates,” said Oz, unruffled. “So keep a civil tongue in your head. I don’t know what it is about Deathstalkers, but they’re always really crabby first thing in the morning. I blame it on bad potty training. Now then, I’ve run a full scan, to the limits of my sensors, and there’s no sign of Imperial ships lurking anywhere in the vicinity.”

“That’s odd,” Brett said immediately. “You’d have thought the Durandal would have sent at least one starcruiser to stop us making contact with Tobias Moon.”

“It’s not odd at all,” the AI said condescendingly. “As you’d know if you’d done your homework on Lachrymae Christi. I did provide you all with complete files on the planet. Lachrymae Christi is one big jungle, full of vicious, aggressive, and semisentient plants of such a predatory nature that animal life never got a look in here. All of these plants have a mass consciousness called the Red Brain. And Big Red is apparently very picky over who gets to orbit his world. Really bad things have been known to happen to ships that don’t pay attention to his warnings. The only ships allowed to land at the only starport are trading ships, strictly by appointment only. However, I have contacted one Natashia Wells at the starport, and she’s willing to talk to a Deathstalker. Shall I put her on?”

“Might as well,” said Lewis.

“You don’t appreciate me, you really don’t.”

“Hello there, uninvited ship!” said a snappy female voice from the comm unit. “Don’t start kicking your equipment, we’ve lost picture again. It’s going to be one of those days, I can tell, and me with one of my heads. This is Natashia Wells, hailing you from the St. Beatrice Memorial Starport, letting you know that you are not at all welcome—unless you’re carrying comm unit spares. Or chocolate. You aren’t, are you? I thought not. If it was up to me, I’d tell you all to go to Hell by the express route, but Tobias Moon vouches for you, and I don’t get any say in the matter.”

“At least now we know Moon is still alive,” Jesamine said quietly.

“What was that?” said Natashia. “Speak up! I hate muttering! So, you’re Lewis Deathstalker and companions, on the
Hereward.
You wouldn’t believe what your ship was carrying the last time it tried to dock here. Anyway, you’re late. We’ve been expecting you for days. Moon assured us you were coming a week ago, and that man is never wrong—which is actually kind of creepy when you think about it, so let’s agree not to. Now then, I have to check my list. According to Moon, Sir Deathstalker, you should have with you . . . one diva, one confidence trickster, one homicidal psychopath, and a reptiloid, whatever the hell that is. Is that correct?”

“Well, yes,” said Lewis.
How did Moon know that?
“Trust me, I’m no happier about it than you are.”

“If it was up to me, I’d shoot the lot of you down right now, on general principle,” said Natashia. “But no one ever listens to me. No good will come of this. My computers are sending you landing coordinates. Don’t get it wrong. We’re the only starport on the planet, with strictly limited space on the landing pads, by choice. We don’t encourage visitors. Hell, we do everything but throw rocks at them and insult their mothers, and still they keep coming. So, land where you’re told, and then follow directions to the nearest city. It’s a bit of a walk, but you can probably use the exercise. You’ll be met at Mission City, which is absolutely stuffed full of fascinating history about this planet. If you care for that sort of thing. Be sure to buy some souvenirs, as they’re cluttering up the place. Talk to Hellen Adair, and she’ll get you to Tobias Moon. And behave yourselves—the Deathstalker name buys you a certain amount of leeway, and Moon’s usually a pretty good judge of character, for an ex-Hadenman, but even so . . .”

“We’re not welcome,” said Lewis, interrupting a speech that threatened to go on forever. “Trust me, we get the point.”

“Tourists,” Natashia said succinctly, “are like hemorrhoids. They come down, they hang around, they turn red, and they’re a pain in the arse. Land and be damned, and see if I care. And don’t contact me again. I have some serious napping to be getting on with.”

The comm line went dead. Brett sighed heavily. “It’s all going to end in tears, I know it.”

 

 

The
Hereward
touched down uneventfully at the St. Beatrice Memorial Starport. It was the only ship on the landing pads. Lewis led the way out, after instructing Ozymandias to run full security measures at all times, but not to shoot anyone unless he felt he absolutely had to. The group gathered outside the airlock and blinked about them in the gray light from the overcast sky. The landing pads were barely half a mile in diameter, surrounded on all sides by the savage crimson jungle. Not all that surprising there was no one there to greet them. No control tower, no customs post, no signs of human civilization at all. It was raining, a sullen persistent drizzle that dampened the spirit as well as everything else. Saturday sniffed loudly, unimpressed.

“This is what you woke me up for? It’s cold, it’s wet, and the trees are the wrong color. I suppose you’re going to tell me next that I’m not allowed to kill anyone here?”

“Not without asking first,” Lewis said firmly. “We want to make a good impression.”

“Then we should leave Brett in the ship,” said Jesamine.

“Fine by me,” said Brett. “I don’t mind. Really.”

“Shut up, Brett,” said Lewis. He checked the directions he’d been given against his internal compass. “Mission City should be . . . that way. Two and a half miles, as the crow flies.”

“We have to walk?” said Jesamine. “Isn’t there any transport laid on for visitors in expensive shoes?”

“There aren’t any roads here,” said Lewis. “According to what I read in the files, civilization is an occasional thing on Lachrymae Christi. The trip shouldn’t be too bad. The jungle’s a lot tamer now than it was in Owen’s day. Come on, people; the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be there.”

“I hate people who say cheerful things like that,” Brett muttered to Rose as they set out across the landing pad. “Don’t you just hate people who say cheerful things like that?”

Rose nodded solemnly.

They headed for the waiting tree line. It was all very quiet, apart from the restless pattering of the rain. No sound anywhere of beast or bird or insect, because there weren’t any. Their footsteps sounded loud and carrying, as though warning the jungle they were coming. Jesamine pressed in close beside Lewis.

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this, Lewis. No one to meet us, no escort . . . Anything could be waiting for us in that jungle. How do we know Finn didn’t get here first, make a deal with the natives, and set a trap for us?”

“Oz would have detected something,” said Lewis, trying hard to sound confident. “That porn-smuggler’s ship has state-of-the-art sensors, and then some. I wouldn’t have landed here unless I was . . . reasonably sure we got here first. Don’t worry, Jes. I promised you that I would stand between you and all harm. Come what may.”

Jesamine smiled, despite herself. “My hero. All right, next worrying question: Why does Mission City have to be so far from the starport? Apart from the fact that they clearly don’t care for visitors.”

“They don’t want Empire tech too close to them,” said Lewis. “The people here regard tech as a necessary evil, and they do without it as much as they can. My guess is they’re still harboring resentments over their ancestors’ being just dumped here and abandoned. Didn’t you read any of the files I put aside for you?”

Jesamine grinned. “I got sidetracked, remember?” She laughed as he looked away. “God, darling, you blush really easily for a Deathstalker.”

Lewis led the way into the scarlet jungle. The towering trees had thick black boles and heavy crimson leaves with sharp serrated edges. All around, the jutting foliage and sudden bursts of undergrowth were every shade of red, in fierce organic hues, as though they had walked inside a living body. Bright pink streamers of crawling vines and matted ivy curled around the black tree trunks, moving slowly, constantly, like dreaming snakes. Bloodred lianas and hanging vines twisted and swung slowly, though there wasn’t a breath of a breeze on the still air. Even the ground was covered with pulsing scarlet mosses and mulch.

And everywhere, every part of the jungle was moving, seething, twisting, and stirring, awake and aware and slowly aggressive. For millions of years there was nothing but plant life on Lachrymae Christi, until the Empire came and made it a colony. A leper colony, to be exact. There was no cure and no hope for them, so the sufferers were just rounded up and dumped there, and no one gave a damn if they survived or not. For a long time there was war between the leper colonists and the unrelenting jungle, until Tobias Moon came and made telepathic contact with the mass consciousness of the plant life—the Red Brain—and brokered a symbiotic peace. At least, that was the legend. Lewis didn’t have the faith in legends that he once had.

But the peace applied only in and around the cities. In the wild, the plants were just as hungry and vicious as they’d ever been. Some of the larger plants were already lurching eagerly towards the intruders, with lunch on their mind. Lewis shot several of them, and Rose tore several more to shreds, and Brett kicked hell out of a shrub, just to be doing his bit. Several small fires broke out, quickly smothered by surrounding plants. After that, the bigger plants pretty much ignored the party, as long as they didn’t get too close. The rain kept drizzling down, and hot steam rose up on the still air.