Deathstalker Coda (10 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
Joseph nodded quickly. With anyone else, he would have dismissed such talk as mere bravado, but this was Finn. The master of schemes within schemes, and secrets within conspiracies. He might just mean it. Greatly daring, Joseph raised what was normally a forbidden subject.
“And . . . Owen? Do you really believe the reports? That the blessed Owen himself has returned, and joined with his descendant against you?”
“I ask you,” said Finn. “Does that even sound likely?
Dead is dead. I should know; I’ve ordered the deaths of millions of people, and none of them have ever come back to complain. It’s just rebel propaganda. Wish I’d thought of it first . . .”
“Only . . . there are rumors,” Joseph said carefully. “Entirely unconfirmed reports, of course, but still . . . there are those who say that the blessed Owen himself has taken control of the fleet over Haden . . .”
“If Owen Deathstalker really was back,” said Finn, “we’d know. He wouldn’t need a fleet. He’d be right here, banging on my palace door and asking for me by name, and I would be hiding under my bed and wetting myself. No, when Owen bloody Deathstalker comes back, the skies will open and he will descend surrounded by angels. And I personally will believe that when I see it, and not before. Actually, I’d almost welcome his return, if he said he could stop the Terror. I could probably deal with Owen.”
Finn leaned back in his chair, brooding quietly, lost in his own terrible thoughts, and Joseph took the opportunity to study his Emperor quietly. Finn still had the same classically handsome face, but it was deeply marked now with lines of strain and worry, and his eyes were just that little bit too bright. He looked . . . like a cornered animal—desperate, focused, and still very, very dangerous. For all his sudden rages and vicious temper, Finn could still be calm and rational when he had to be, and his grip on power had never been tighter. Being second-in-command to such a man was never going to be easy, but Joseph had faith in his own abilities to survive, if nothing else. All the terrible things he’d done, or ordered done, had all been done in Finn’s name. Joseph’s position might well be more than a little perilous, but sometimes all you can do is ride the damned tiger and cling on with both hands. And if nothing else, it was an exhilarating ride. . . . After all, Finn couldn’t live forever. No matter how much time he spent with the notorious Dr. Happy. No, eventually Finn would fall, and then a wise and prepared man might easily step in and take over. . . .
“I want transmutation engines put into orbit around Logres,” Finn said abruptly. “No need to activate them— not just yet. No, their presence alone will serve to remind everyone who’s in charge here, and take their minds off all these ridiculous rumors about a returned Owen. The engines will also serve as a warning to Lewis and his damned fleet of what I’ll do if they dare challenge my position here.”
Joseph looked at him uncertainly. “You’d really threaten to destroy Humanity’s homeworld?”
Finn smiled easily. “Threaten? My dear naïve Joseph, I’ll wipe this whole planet clean of everything and everyone before I’ll give it up. Which brings me neatly to the other reason I invited you here. Talk to me about Usher Two. How are the preparations going?”
Joseph swallowed hard and made himself concentrate on the unfortunate planet identified as being next in the Terror’s path. Usher II was an industrial world, specializing in the production of starship engines and all the tech that went with them. The entire planet was given over to these factories, serving the starship needs of the whole Empire. And since the Empire’s scientists still didn’t fully understand the nature of the tech they’d reverse-engineered from the alien starship that crashed on Unseeli so very long ago, most of the work still had to be done by hand. Human hands. It was far too delicate work to be trusted to computers. The AIs of Shub provided automatons for the really dangerous work, but even those operated under human control. All the factories on Usher II were currently running twenty-four hours a day, shift after shift, trying to build up a surplus to cover what would happen if and when the planet was destroyed.
“Just when I need all the ships I can muster,” Finn grumbled, “to face off Lewis and his treacherous fleet. Tell me there’s some good news, Joseph, if you like having testicles.”
“The evacuation is going . . . better than expected,” Joseph said carefully. “But still very slowly. We were relying on Shub to send many more automatons, but they never turned up. We know why now, of course. And the human technicians can’t be allowed to leave until the very last moment. We’re holding their families under guard, to . . . concentrate the minds of the technicians on their work. Everyone is very motivated—and those who aren’t get turned into examples of why not being motivated is a very bad idea. But . . . eventually, we’re going to have to let them leave. We’re going to need their expertise, afterwards. They will of course have priority for the evacuation ships. The rest of the population is expendable, though of course no one’s told them that.”
“Not really good news, but a brave effort,” said Finn. “I had hoped the new tech we confiscated from the humbled alien worlds would come in handy, but we haven’t really come up with anything worth the having. I always assumed the shifty alien bastards were keeping things from me, because that’s what I would have done, but apparently not. No major weapons kept in reserve, no secret doomsday devices; I’m disappointed in them, I am really. And what little new tech we have grabbed, my scientists, my supposed brilliant experts, are having trouble even deciphering. Only one piece of information really came up trumps: an entirely theoretical plan for transforming a sun into a supernova, and channeling its energies as a weapon. My people are building it even as we speak.”
“You mean . . . something like the Darkvoid Device?” said Joseph, when he could trust his voice again.
“Not really on that scale, unfortunately. Basically, the idea is we use the device on one of Usher Two’s binary suns, turn it into a supernova, and then direct all the energy produced into one single blast aimed at the Terror’s herald, as soon as it comes in range. My people aren’t entirely sure the energies can be controlled, or even aimed properly, but . . . nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’m sure it’ll be very pretty to look at. As long as you’re not actually on Usher Two, of course.”
“A poor man’s Darkvoid Device, that we’re not even sure we can aim properly?” said Joseph. “Finn . . .”
“As long as we can turn it on and off, that’s all that matters. Don’t flap, Joseph.”
“But even if the weapon works, we still won’t be able to save Usher Two. There’s no way it could survive having one of its suns go boom.”
“As long as it stops the Terror, I really couldn’t give a damn,” Finn said cheerfully. “Still, in the event the weapon does work as planned, but still doesn’t stop the Terror, we’re going to need a backup plan. And that’s where you come in, Joseph. Have you moved the transmutation engines into position, as I ordered?”
“They’ll be in orbit around Usher Two by the end of today. All hidden behind sensor shields, of course. They’ve been preprogrammed to transmute the entire planet and everything on it into the most appalling mess our scientists could conceive. The planet will be poisonous on every level, highly radioactive, and possibly even unstable on the quantum level. Theoretically, the Terror shouldn’t be able to consume Usher Two without being poisoned itself. However, I feel I should point out that if the Terror decides to simply avoid the planet, and keep on going, that entire quadrant will be a no-go area for thousands of years afterwards. Maybe even hundreds of thousands.”
Finn sighed. “Do I really need to explain the concept
expendable
to you again?”
expendable
to you again?”
Joseph nodded stiffly. “Since use of the transmutation engines will inevitably mean the death of Usher Two’s population, the plan is being kept strictly need-to-know. It’s a pity we can’t salvage some of the factory tech first, but that would rather give the game away.”
“You worry far too much about things that don’t matter, Joseph,” said Finn. “Perhaps . . . if we were to destroy Usher Two before the Terror got to it, and then kept on destroying every other planet in its path, the Terror might die of starvation. Or at the very least take the hint and go somewhere else.”
“I think we’d probably run out of planets before it ran out of hunger,” Joseph said carefully. “Besides, think of the billions of lives that would be lost. There’s a limit to what the people of the Empire will accept.”
“Is there?” said Finn. Joseph couldn’t meet the Emperor’s gaze. He started to change the subject, but Finn pressed on. “Let us understand each other, First Minister. I protect the Empire because it’s mine. Mine to play with, mine to enjoy, mine to destroy when I’m tired of it. Not the Terror’s. I’ll find a way to destroy the Terror, and then . . . Oh, the things I’ll do. The people will wish the Terror had taken them.”
“Perhaps you need . . . a distraction,” said Joseph, just a little desperately. “Something to take you out of yourself. I’ve been talking with some of your other advisers, and it occurred to us that since you are the Emperor now, you really have a duty to wed, and produce an heir to carry on your line. If you would allow us to . . .”
“No,” said Finn. “That won’t be necessary. After me, there will be nothing.”
The Rookery had become the last safe haven for rebels on Logres. As a result, that rogues’ paradise and city within a city had become impossibly overcrowded, and was actually threatening to burst at its seams. The Rookery had become the last place you could run to where Finn’s agents wouldn’t pursue. For the moment, at least. The hidden rotten heart of the Empire’s most famous city was now an incredibly dangerous, violent place. The original occupants of the Rookery were finding it increasingly difficult to prey on outsiders, as of old, due to the Emperor’s murderously strict martial law, and so they had taken to preying on each other. And most especially on the newcomers, who quickly learned that the only safety lay in numbers. The Rookery had become a bad place to be a man alone. And yet still the people came, because as bad as the Rookery was, everywhere else was worse.
Everyone in the Rookery had lost someone to Finn’s people, or knew someone who had. There was a lot of sullen anger in the crowded streets, and in the smoky overpriced taverns, but as yet it had little focus. The Emperor was just too strong, too big a target for their beaten-down spirits. Its only expression so far had been the Rookery’s turning against all those who had helped Finn in his rise to power. The agents provocateur had been burned out of their clubs and sent running through the streets, to be hunted down like dogs. Everyone else who’d worked with or for Finn Durandal was now being very quiet about it, for fear of being denounced as a spy or informer. Just the rumor was enough to raise up a mob baying for blood, and broken bodies soon blocked the gutters. Everyone expected the Emperor to order an invasion of the Rookery at some point, but no one was doing anything about it. There were no meetings, no plans, no defenses. No one trusted anyone.
Douglas Campbell, who had once been a King, and Stuart Lennox, who had once been a Paragon, now worked as masked bravos for hire, protecting the flea-trap hotel they were staying in from all the many predators of the streets. Masked bravos were a common sight in the Rookery these days. Lots of people had good reason to conceal their identities. Douglas and Stuart wore simple leather masks, and cheap but serviceable clothing. They’d sold the better clothes they arrived in to raise the money to acquire the single hotel room Douglas and Stuart and Nina Malapert now lived in.
The Lantern Lodge was one of the oldest surviving hotels in the Rookery, and looked it. The squat ugly building was dark, damp, and extremely run-down, and no one had spent money on it in generations. The outer stone walls were blackened with layers of soot and grime, the windows did little more than let the light in, and there hadn’t been any lead on the roof in living memory. It was sweltering hot in the summer and bitter cold in the winter, and every room came with hot and cold running rats. Not to mention bedbugs. (At first, Douglas had thought the single bed came with a built-in vibrating mechanism, and was seriously and loudly upset when the truth was made clear to him.) But it was a room, and rooms were hard to come by, so no one complained.
Douglas and Stuart worked as the hotel’s bravos for free bed and board. It wasn’t much, but it was better than a lot of people had. There were those who had to fight every night to protect their place in a doorway, or a cardboard box. Nina was doing marginally better. She was working with a few other rogue media people to put together a rebel news site, tapping briefly into the main media feeds to try to get a little truth on the air now and again. There wasn’t any money in it yet, but Nina had great hopes for the future. There were quite a few ex-media people in the Rookery, since Finn’s people had taken complete control of all the official media. There were no shows anymore, just constant propaganda. There were riots in the streets on the day
The Quality
was taken off the air, but Finn had just had his people use the rioters for target practice, until they got the message and slunk off home. But a lot of newspeople had brought their technical knowledge to the Rookery, and the rebel news site was already up and running. Unfortunately, it took expensive and hard-to-get tech to keep it on the air, and keep fighting its way through the official censor’s firewalls, so there was always a problem with funding. It wasn’t as though they could sell advertising space.
The Quality
was taken off the air, but Finn had just had his people use the rioters for target practice, until they got the message and slunk off home. But a lot of newspeople had brought their technical knowledge to the Rookery, and the rebel news site was already up and running. Unfortunately, it took expensive and hard-to-get tech to keep it on the air, and keep fighting its way through the official censor’s firewalls, so there was always a problem with funding. It wasn’t as though they could sell advertising space.
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