Deathstalker Return (53 page)

“You saw his broadcast, blaming the Deathstalkers for the loss of Heracles Four,” said Emma. “The mood he’s got people worked into, I think they’d let him get away with anything. A lot of them would even cheer as Virimonde was broken apart for transmutation.”

“I told you he’d have another plan,” said Roland. “The Paragon is right. We have no choice. We have to surrender.”

“If you go out there, he’ll kill you,” said Emma.

“Yes,” said Laura. “He probably will. Because we’re a symbol, and have to be brought down. Because Finn can use our deaths to hurt Lewis. Or just because he’s a spiteful, vindictive little shit. But what matters is that the Clan will go on. Lewis will return to lead the family, eventually, and he will avenge us.” She smiled fondly at her husband. “We have had a good life together, my dear. Let’s not spoil the end of it by groveling before Finn’s people.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Roland said gruffly. “Wouldn’t give the little turd the satisfaction.”

“The Clan goes on.”

“Yes.”

Emma frowned. “You really think you can trust the Durandal to keep his word?”

“We can trust him to kill everyone on Virimonde, to get his own way,” said Laura.

“Then we came all this way for nothing,” said Emma.

“What are you talking about?” said Nina. “We’re covering a great story, live and uncensored, as it happens! Finn won’t dare break his word in front of an audience this big!”

“You’re so young,” said Laura.

 

 

Emma and Nina stood in the shadows of the great main gates, and watched silently as the whole of Clan Deathstalker filed out of their Standing and onto the great open plain, to face their enemies. Roland and Laura led the way, holding hands, their heads held high. They’d left behind their armor with their weapons, but they still looked like warriors. The army stood assembled in ranks before the castle, with Lola Martinez at its head, watching coldly, still smiling. When the last of the Clan had assembled outside the castle, Lola gestured to her troops, and they marched forwards in perfect formation, breaking apart at the last moment to surround the empty-handed Deathstalkers. Emma stirred uneasily. Lola came forwards to stand before Roland and Lewis.

“You’re all traitors. Finn Durandal names you all outlaws, and enemies of the new order. Every single one of you is hereby sentenced to death, for crimes against Humanity. Sentence to be carried out immediately.” And while Roland and Laura and the rest of Clan Deathstalker stared at her, she laughed in their faces, turned to her troops, and said “Kill them all. Open fire!”

Hundreds of disrupters rose and targeted, and Roland and Laura charged forwards, into the face of the guns, roaring the Clan battle cry:
Shandrakor! Shandrakor!
An energy beam punched through Laura’s breast and out her back, but she still kept going. A disrupter blew away Roland’s left shoulder and arm, and he cried out loudly but didn’t stop. The rest of the Clan were moving behind them now, racing into the blast of massed disrupter fire. Roland took an energy bolt in the head, and fell to the ground. Laura was hit again and again, and still momentum kept her going a few more steps before she finally stumbled and fell.

The Clan was being mowed down on all sides, but still they ran on, defying the troops to stop them. Dozens were dead, and more were falling, but the savage, unyielding cry of
Shandrakor!
still rose over the roar of the energy guns. No one flinched, and no one hesitated. Men, women, and children charged into the face of certain death, hoping only to live long enough to reach their tormentors. More than half the Clan were dead by the time the first Deathstalkers reached the front ranks of the soldiers. They fell upon the troopers, bare hands against guns and swords, and the soldiers died screaming. Every Deathstalker was a warrior trained. The Church Militant fanatics fought back, but even their blind faith faltered in the face of such iron determination. Some began to falter and fall back. Eventually some turned and ran. The surviving Deathstalkers snatched up weapons from the fallen soldiers, and the real killing began. And above it all, the ancient battle cry.

And the fanatics broke and ran, streaming away across the open plain. Faith based on fear was no match for grim determination based on courage. They ran, and the surviving Deathstalkers—some sixty men, women, and children—stood their ground with foreign weapons in their hands and turned their furious gaze on the one enemy who had not run. The Paragon Lola Martinez stood calmly before them, smiling her interminable smile, not even bothering to draw a weapon. One of the Deathstalkers leveled a gun at her, and then hesitated as the uber-esper Screaming Silence looked back at him through her thrall’s eyes. Her augmented mind reached out across the countless light years, and struck down her enemies in a moment. Her esp was no less powerful for all the distance it had traveled, or for being focused through her human thrall. Screaming Silence had been absorbing and storing all the sound and fury of the battle, and now she threw it all back in the faces of the briefly triumphant Deathstalkers. The psi storms swept through their minds, and they dropped their weapons to claw at their bursting heads.

Sound too loud and harsh to be borne blew their minds apart, and they fell screaming to the ground as all their senses were subverted and turned against them. The slightest touch became agonizing. Taste and smell became overpowering. Light was blinding. All their senses were made unbearably intense, until their minds broke under the weight of it. The last of the Deathstalkers lay still and silent on the blood-soaked ground; men and women and children with the agonies of their deaths still plain upon their faces. Screaming Silence looked upon her awful work, and laughed.

The attack troopers began filing back in small groups, and Lola Martinez called harshly for them to regroup. They formed up around her, cheering loudly as though the victory was theirs, but none of them liked to look at the Paragon directly. Lola Martinez ignored them all, and strode past the piled-up bodies of the Deathstalker dead, heading for the open main gates of the Standing. And Emma Steel stepped out of the shadows of the gates and shot her through the chest.

The energy bolt sent Lola staggering backwards. She cried out once, as much in fury as pain, and then she fell to the ground. Emma Steel glared about her at the attack troopers, daring them to do anything, but they just stood where they were, too stunned by the sudden change in events to do anything. Emma gestured urgently to Nina, who came running forward with her big gun, her camera bobbing along above her shoulder. Emma knelt beside the dying Lola, who glared viciously back at her. When she spoke, blood spilled from her mouth.

“Nice shooting, Paragon. But don’t think you’ve won anything. I’m not Lola Martinez.”

“I know,” said Emma. “You’re an ELF.”

“And I still live, back on Logres. You can’t touch me. All you’ve killed is the body of your friend. And now, I think I’ll ride home in you.”

Her mind leapt out of the dying Lola and tried to seize control of Emma’s thoughts, only to find the way blocked by the powerful barriers Diana Vertue had placed in Emma’s mind. Screaming Silence cried out again, a telepathic howl of fury and frustration, and then she was gone—leaving only a dying young Paragon, her mind her own again for the last few moments of her life. She grabbed Emma’s arm and tried to say something, but her strength was already leaving her. Emma cradled the dying woman in her arms. Lola tried to say
Thank you,
and then it was all over. Emma put the body aside, and stood up to face Nina and her camera.

“You heard,” she said to the watching Empire. “You all heard the thing inside Lola Martinez. She was possessed by an ELF. All the other Paragons are possessed too. Do something about it.”

And then they both disappeared, as Shub teleported them back to Nina’s apartment. They stood together a moment, breathing heavily. Nina turned off her camera and dropped her gun into the nearest chair.

“Clan Deathstalker is dead,” she said numbly. “Finn won after all.”

“We got the word out, about the possessed Paragons,” said Emma. “And the whole Empire saw the Clan cut down after they’d honorably surrendered, on the Durandal’s orders. That’s something. Poor Lewis. He’s the last of his kin, now. The last Deathstalker.”

Back on Virimonde, the Church Militant troops surged forwards and stormed into the empty Deathstalker Standing through the open gates. They ransacked the castle, looting all the best items and trashing everything they didn’t steal. When they were finished, they set the place on fire. Thick clouds of black smoke rose up from the castle as the attack troops celebrated and partied on the open plain.

 

 

Many things happened after that, in swift succession all across the Empire. Nina Malapert’s coverage went out live, uncensored and uninterrupted; partly because no one was expecting it, and partly because the signal was protected by an unknown source. (No one knew about Shub’s connection, then, though certain people were soon busy putting two and two together.) Every news station on every planet kept rebroadcasting the material, and couldn’t believe their luck. The murder of Clan Deathstalker, after they’d surrendered, to save their world,
and
a possessed Paragon wielding uber-esper powers. This was a major news story, and no one was going to take it away from them. Finn sent troops to shut down the main stations by force, but as fast as they shut one source down, another dozen feeds opened up. And everyone was watching. This was the hottest story since the reappearance of the Terror, and the sheer outrage at what had happened helped to take people’s minds off what had just happened at Heracles IV.

Talk and opinion shows became almost hysterical as they tried to discuss all the possible ramifications of what they’d seen. Even the tamest shows and the most sycophantic hosts got the bit between their teeth and ran with it, openly defying Finn’s orders to shut down, or at least not talk about it. There was rioting in cities on all the worlds, and for the first time the Durandal’s name was being shouted in anger. Questions were asked in the House, even by some MPs everyone had thought were utterly bought and paid for. The last remaining Paragons had to go into hiding, or risk being stoned or even shot at on the streets. They retreated back into the Sangreal, awaiting Finn’s instructions. Popular feeling was that the exposure of a possessed Paragon explained a lot of things.

If the people were concerned over the state of the Paragons, they were absolutely out of their minds with rage over what had been done to Clan Deathstalker, in Finn’s name. These were Owen’s descendants. No one believed the stories about them now. Owen’s family had been slaughtered, and someone was going to pay for it.

Finn emerged from his quarters just long enough to declare martial law across the whole Empire. Church Militant and Pure Humanity troops spilled out onto the streets of every major city, and shot down anyone who even looked as though they were carrying a weapon. Large gatherings were met with tanglewebs and nerve gases. Soon enough the streets everywhere were empty save for the dead, and patrolling troops. No one was bothering with arrests. The only law now was Finn Durandal’s law, enforced with sword and gun and overwhelming force.

Not that there weren’t problems with the Church Militant. Many of its leaders weren’t at all happy about what was happening. The death of Clan Deathstalker was a public relations disaster for the Church, and they were all mad as hell that their people had been (albeit unknowingly) led by a possessed Paragon. One of Finn’s people . . . The leaders went looking for Finn, to demand answers, and eventually found him in Angelo Bellini’s office in the Logres Cathedral. He was sitting behind Angelo’s desk, in Angelo’s chair, and there on the desk was Angelo’s severed head on a letter spike. Finn greeted the Church leaders cheerfully, informed them that he had just appointed Joseph Wallace, head of the Transmutation Board, as the new head of the official Church. Everyone knew that Wallace was a powerful force in Pure Humanity, and the Church leaders protested loudly. Finn explained that the Church Militant was now a partner with Pure Humanity; a junior partner, and therefore under his control. Some of the Church leaders went on objecting, and Finn shot them. The rest shut up, considered their options, and bowed their head to Finn Durandal.

Finn dismissed them, and then sat back in his chair, staring thoughtfully at Angelo’s severed head. He wasn’t too unhappy about the way things had gone. The Church had been getting far too uppity of late anyway. Pure Humanity had always been a more practical, politically minded organization. The Church’s new leaders would soon channel the fanatics’ fervor into more useful directions.

Sure enough, the new hierarchy started with a series of purges, officially to root out ELF infiltration, but actually to remove anyone who might object to the new directions the Church would be taking. There were no arrests, no trials. People just disappeared. The bodies were never found. Transmutation bombs could be very useful things. In the end, most of the Church just went along. They still got to hate and intimidate the same people, they still got the best of everything by right, and they were still top dogs.

Finn then had James make another of his stirring speeches, saying that all the remaining Paragons had been investigated and officially cleared. He gave official thanks to Emma Steel for helping reveal the ELFs’ possessing the Paragons, because he had to, to protect himself. For once, there was only polite clapping at the end. No cheers, no standing ovations. James left the House in something of a hurry. Finn was forced to keep the Paragons holed up in the Sangreal. But he thought he’d got the best out of them anyway. He only let them go on living because he liked to think of his old colleagues suffering.

Finn relaxed in his apartment and poured himself a drink. Things hadn’t gone too badly, really. The Deathstalkers were all dead, he had more direct control than ever now that the Church Militant had been subsumed into Pure Humanity, and Douglas was under house arrest for murder.