Deathstalker Return (46 page)

Finn considered the point. “No,” he said decisively. “Not nearly good enough.”

He snatched up a solid brass ashtray from his desk and threw it at Tel. The MP ducked, but not nearly fast enough. The ashtray clipped Tel heavily across the side of the head, and he tipped out of his chair and fell to the floor. Blood streamed down the side of his face. Finn got up out of his chair and walked unhurriedly round his desk. Tel tried to scuttle backwards, heading for the door. Finn caught up with him and kicked him in the ribs, a solid but casual blow, just as he would treat an annoying dog in the street. And then he kicked Tel again and again and again. Blood sprayed from Tel’s mouth, and he cried out loudly, not because he thought help might come, but because he knew Finn would just keep on kicking him till he did. The Durandal reached down, grabbed Tel by the blood-spattered front of his shirt, lifted him up, and slammed him back against the wall with almost effortless strength. Finn stuck his face right in front of Tel’s and spoke in a calm, assured voice, ignoring the blood flecking his face from Tel’s heavy breathing.

“I keep sending my people after Lewis, and he keeps evading them. How does he do that? He has no powers, like his renowned ancestor. He’s just one man, with a few disreputable friends. And yet still he taunts me, defying me to control or stop him. How many more of my resources do I need to commit to the chase, to bring down one ugly little man?”

“Why bother?” said Tel, breathing painfully. “He’s just one man . . .”

“He’s a Deathstalker! That name still means something. He could use the luster of that name to raise an army against me. No, Lewis is my only real obstacle now, the only threat to my inevitable triumph. There’s still Douglas, of course, but I’ve broken his spirit quite thoroughly. I want Lewis broken, Tel. I need to see my old dear friend groveling before me in a pool of his own blood. I need to see him kiss my boot before I shoot him in the back of the head.”

The thought put Finn in a somewhat better mood, and he let go of Tel. He strolled back to his desk, while Tel wiped some of the blood from his face with his sleeve. Finn sat down behind his desk and smiled benignly at his pet MP.

“Don’t worry, Tel. I’m not going to kill you. Not while I can have so much more fun taking out my bad moods on you. For an experienced politician, you make a great punching bag. And if you stick with me, and don’t whine too much, I’ll make you a powerful man in this declining Empire. Under me, of course. And all you have to do to prove your worth is carry out the occasional little errand for me. What could be easier?”

Tel was saved from having to answer that one when Finn’s office door swung suddenly open, and a Church Militant soldier strode in. Finn glared at him.

“Does no one knock anymore? I swear, if this keeps up I’m going to arm my secretary and install landmines in my outer office. Now, who the hell are you, and what do you want?”

“Just a little of your time, Durandal,” said the soldier in a harsh rasping voice. He smiled widely. “How do you like this body? Just a little something I threw on, but it has a certain charm, don’t you think?”

“Oh, shit,” said Tel. “It’s an ELF.”

Finn’s glare became positively glacial. “Don’t sit down, ELF; you’re not staying. And I thought I told you people not to call me at the office. All right, spit it out. You can talk freely in front of Tel, because he knows I’ll have him killed if he repeats anything I don’t want repeated. What do you want?”

“We want you to arrange a meeting between ELF representatives and the uber-espers,” said the thrall. “Our glorious leaders and founders have apparently become so busy running errands for you that they don’t have time to talk to us anymore. All we get are orders, and no explanations. We’re feeling left out of things, and we don’t like it. But if they won’t listen to us, maybe they’ll listen to you. So, you contact the uber-espers and persuade them to listen to our grievances, or you can forget about having Paragons at your beck and call anymore.”

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” said Finn, and there was something in his voice and in his eyes that gave even the ELF pause.

“Think of it more as a wake-up call, Sir Durandal. Even ELFs have their limitations. The strain of possessing so many Paragons for so long, twenty-four hours a day, is taking its toll on us. We’re having to pass the Paragons back and forth between us so our minds can get some rest, and every time we exchange control there’s a very real risk of a Paragon breaking free. All these people have had special training against mental control, and they’re becoming increasingly difficult subjects. We were able to overcome them in the first place only because we caught them by surprise, from ambush, and outnumbered each of them by ten to one or more. The ELFs can’t guarantee to maintain control unless we get help and support from the uber-espers. They listen to you these days—so arrange it.”

“Why does no one ever bring me good news anymore?” said Finn plaintively. He leaned back in his chair and considered the matter. “I used the Gray Train to control the thirteen Paragons I sent to Shandrakor, because you ELFs assured me that only an uber-esper could safely control so many subjects at such a distance. Now all these Paragons are dead, and the Gray Train is reportedly in shock. And you want me to hand over more Paragons to the uber-espers?” Finn smiled encouragingly at the thrall. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you boys having a good time anymore, doing nasty things in Paragon bodies?”

“That’s not the point,” the ELF said stubbornly. “We can’t go on like this. We need help. It’s in your best interests to arrange this meeting, Sir Durandal.”

“Oh, very well. If it’ll make you happy. Seems nothing gets done right around here unless I do it myself. I’ll contact the uber-espers and set up your meeting. I want to talk to them myself, and especially the Gray Train. I’m really not at all happy about losing so many Paragons at once. All right, that’s it. You can go now, ELF. Don’t slam the door on your way out, or I’ll have the uber-espers stick your mind in something small and squishy for a week. Off you go. Don’t forget to write. And Tel, find yourself a regeneration tank and clean yourself up. I have an errand for you to run.”

 

 

The Paragon Emma Steel had agreed to meet girl reporter Nina Malapert at Nina’s place, but she had only to walk into the reporter’s living room to feel she might have made a terrible mistake. Nina was a single girl who lived alone, and it showed. Things just couldn’t get this messy without a certain amount of determined effort. Emma stood perfectly still in the middle of the apartment so she wouldn’t have to touch anything, while Nina bustled cheerfully back and forth around her, ostensibly tidying up, but mostly just picking things up and putting them down somewhere else. Emma’s nostrils twitched as the pervasive aromas of cheap perfume, cheaper disinfectant and the lingering remains of several recent meals fought it out for supremacy.

There were cuddly toys everywhere, beaming vacantly from every surface that wasn’t already buried under gaudy china figurines of questionable taste, and vases full of drooping flowers. There was a long shelf of data recordings, and Emma just knew they hadn’t been sorted into alphabetical order. Towering piles of fashion and gossip magazines threatened to topple over at any moment. Three of the living room walls were hidden behind live holo images showing a barren windswept moor, an overgrown garden with ivy-covered walls, and waves crashing soundlessly against craggy rocks in showers of spray. There was one desk, pushed tightly up against the one remaining wall, bearing a computer terminal, a remote camera in its recharging unit, and more piled up dirty plates and coffee mugs than the mind could comfortably come to terms with. Both of the comfortable chairs were full of dirty laundry. Nina bundled it all up and tottered off in her high heels to dump the laundry in the next room. Her voice came drifting back.

“Sorry about the mess, darling, but I live here. Won’t be a tick. Make yourself comfortable, and watch out for the goldfish. I dropped it a few days ago, and I still haven’t found it. Do you like my holo walls? They appeal to my wild romantic side, but I find I have to keep the sound turned right down. Nature in the raw can be terribly distracting. Oh, would you like some coffee?”

Emma looked at the dirty mugs on the desk and shuddered. “Not right now, thank you.”

“I’d offer you some brandy, but I don’t have any.”

Emma headed for the nearest chair, kicking a stuffed bear out of the way. Nina cried out in distress from the doorway, and hurried over to pick up the bear and cuddle it to her.

“Leave Bruin Bear alone, you big bully! There, there, lovey, she didn’t mean it. She’s just a nasty old Paragon who probably isn’t getting her ashes hauled nearly often enough.”

“Why so many guns?” said Emma, deliberately changing the subject as she sank gingerly into the comfortable chair. She indicated the dozen or so energy weapons mounted inexpertly on the wall over the desk. Nina smiled, kissed Bruin Bear and wedged him in between other toys on the nearest shelf. She sat down opposite Emma, and crossed her legs to better show off her new shoes.

“The guns are a legacy from my dear old forefather Flynn. He always said the first rule of journalism is, Be prepared to shoot at any time.”

Emma regarded the bulky energy guns dubiously. “Are you sure he didn’t mean with a camera?”

“Not these days, sweetie.”

Nina smiled happily at Emma, her tall pink mohawk swaying slightly. She was wearing a whole bunch of multicolored silks, and had clearly decided to let the colors fight it out among themselves for dominance. She had a bright red heart painted over her left eye, and lips of a dark scarlet hue never found in nature. Emma would have felt quite dowdy in her plain Paragon’s outfit, if she’d ever thought about such things.

“Why did you call me here so urgently, Nina?” Emma said patiently. “Have you uncovered something new about the Paragon situation?”

“Well, not really, dear, but I did think we should talk about what we’re going to do with what we do know. Especially since it involves You Know Who. Someone’s got to get the word out that all our Paragons have been possessed! Apart from you, obviously. People have the right to know things like that. Very especially after what’s just happened on Shandrakor. You do know what’s just happened on Shandrakor, don’t you, darling?”

“Yes,” said Emma. “I have my sources. Thirteen of my brethren are dead. I mourn their loss. They will be avenged.”

“But they’re the bad guys now, aren’t they? I mean, any one of them would kill us if they knew what we know about them.”

“The Paragons have never been the enemy,” Emma said sharply. “They are helpless in the grasp of the minds that control them. And now there are thirteen Paragons that I will never be able to rescue.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, lovey.” Nina looked terribly sad for a moment, but her natural ebullience quickly reasserted itself. “But that just makes it even more imperative that we
do something.
While we still can!”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” said Emma. “If all else fails, I think I should assassinate Finn Durandal. He’s behind everything bad that happens these days. Cut off the head of the serpent, and the body should wither and die.”

“Well, ten out of ten for gung ho, dear, but let’s be real about this—you’d never get anywhere near him. He’s constantly surrounded by Church Militant bully boys and Pure Humanity thugs these days, and even if by some miracle you could get to him, you’d never get out alive.”

“So?” said Emma, quite calmly.

“Right . . . Well, lovey, I think we’ll leave the suicidal last charges until we’ve tried everything else, including closing our eyes and wishing it would all go away. We can’t afford to take risks with our lives, Emma, we really can’t. Not while we’re the only ones who know the truth about what’s happening.”

A blast of blindingly bright light exploded in the middle of the room, and both Emma and Nina cried out in shock, covering their eyes with upraised arms. The light seemed to solidify before them, and an overwhelming sense of presence began to sink into the room, as though approaching or descending into reality from somewhere far away. The light began to fade away to the merely painful, but the sense of presence was stronger than ever. Emma rose up out of her chair, gun in hand, while Nina lurched blindly towards the guns on her wall. They were both sharing the same thought:
The uber-espers have found us . . .
But when the glare suddenly snapped off, it left behind only a short blond woman in old-fashioned clothing, with a harsh face and disquieting eyes. She nodded easily to Emma and Nina, though her smile was somewhat unsettling.

Nina clutched her gun to her chest as though for comfort. “My God,” she whispered. “I know you. I’ve seen your face in old holo files. You’re Jenny Psycho!”

“I prefer Diana Vertue,” said the new arrival, still smiling. “My other name may be what most people remember, but I was always so much more than just Jenny Psycho.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” said Emma, not lowering the gun she had trained on the newcomer.

“Only materially,” said Diana. “I thought I’d left the world behind me, but it seems I still have unfinished business to attend to.”

“Another exclusive!” Nina jumped up and down on the spot, waving her gun carelessly in the air. “The return of Jenny Psycho! I am going to be so big-time I won’t even talk to myself! Oh . . . pictures! I have to get pictures!”

She tossed her gun at the nearest chair, and Emma tried not to flinch too obviously. Nina grabbed up her camera from its recharger unit.

“I wouldn’t bother,” said Diana. “Cameras can’t see me. Only people.”

“Oh, poo,” said Nina. “No one’s ever going to believe this without pictures.”

Diana looked at Emma. “You haven’t put away your gun, Paragon.”

“I’m feeling insecure,” said Emma.

“I get that a lot,” said Diana. “But you might as well holster it. It couldn’t hurt me anyway.”