Deathstalker Coda (43 page)
Authors: Simon R. Green
Douglas called everyone to his room in the Lantern Lodge, for an emergency meeting, and everyone who mattered was there. The King of Thieves sat back in his chair, and watched them assemble. Tel Markham hovered beside Douglas’s chair, as always; the quiet strategist who was actually the most radical and extreme of them all. He’d cleaned up nicely, but his eyes remained wild and savage. He was always the first to call for murder and mayhem in the outer city. He was Douglas’s very own junkyard dog, and he guarded his master fiercely, even growling at the Psycho Sluts who made up the man’s official bodyguards. Tel had been wounded in many ways, and his scar tissues showed.
Diana Vertue, still sometimes known as Jenny Psycho, though never to her face these days, was also present, slumped easily in the only other comfortable chair. A small compact blonde who didn’t look anywhere near as dangerous as everyone knew she was. Diana and her followers, the effervescent Psycho Sluts, were the only ones who could still stroll openly through the outer city, and defy anyone to do anything about it. They didn’t fear armies or the ELFs, and their defiance cheered many an oppressed heart. Secretly, the uber-espers were pretty sure they could kill Diana Vertue, as they had once before over a hundred years ago, but they were still trying to work out how she’d managed to come back from the dead. Finn was pretty sure he could crush her, with enough guns and men and battle tech; but he couldn’t afford to lose as many men as he knew he would, on anything less than a sure thing. So he held back too. And Diana snubbed her nose at all of them.
Running herd on the Psycho Sluts had actually taught Diana Vertue the value of patience and self-control, though neither came naturally to her. She had a horrible suspicion she was finally maturing.
Nina Malapert and Stuart Lennox stood together on the other side of the room. As usual, Nina hadn’t been able to decide which of several styles to wear, so she’d worn all of them at once. She chatted cheerfully with Stuart, who just smiled and nodded and let her get on with it. Even old friends found it difficult to interrupt Nina in full flow.
It was Douglas’s meeting, so he started first. “This meeting of the Let’s Stick It to Finn committee is hereby called to order, so shut the hell up and listen, and yes I’m looking at you, Nina. And don’t pout or I’ll get cranky. The good news is that all our military operations have been going very well. I’ve been using my old Paragon knowledge to identify vulnerable financial and security targets, and my attack teams have been able to do serious damage while remaining well below Finn’s radar. He hasn’t got a clue what’s going on, or how we’re doing what we’re doing, except that every morning he wakes up to discover a heap of smoking rubble where an important building used to be. Security officers draw straws now, to see who gets to go in and tell him they’re still baffled. They’ll be blaming it on pixies soon.”
“We should be concentrating on people, not buildings,” growled Tel. “Take out the people who matter, and Finn’s whole administration would fall apart.”
“We’ve had this conversation before, Tel,” Douglas said firmly. “Assassination is Finn’s way, not ours. And he still has any number of fanatical followers ready to jump into any position that opens up. Those crazy bastards worship him as a god. No, we stick to the slow and subtle way. For now, at least. Where was I . . . oh yes. Our computer hackers have also been having remarkable success of late. They’ve been thieving massive amounts of credits from Church Militant and Pure Humanity coffers, and adding them to our funds. Which gives us more options apart from the military. Often a bribe will get you places that a blade wouldn’t.”
“Except we’ve been using most of those credits to pay for food drops in parts of the outer city,” said Tel. “We should let them go hungry. Make them more ready to rise up against Finn.”
“The half-starved rarely make good fighters,” said Douglas. “And I will not stand by and let my people go hungry. I am still their King, even if only in exile. All right, Tel; I know you’re bursting to give us news of what your people have been up to. But keep it short and to the point, or we’ll heckle you.”
“And throw things,” said Stuart.
Tel glared at him. “My people have had great success in intercepting and jamming Finn’s communication lines, using alien-derived tech and Rookery-honed skills. As a result, most of Finn’s orders just aren’t getting through. Sometimes we make subtle changes of our own, and then let them go through, just to add to the general chaos and confusion. Soon enough, Finn won’t be able to believe anything he hears through the comm lines, and his people will be afraid to follow any order that doesn’t come from him in person.”
“Unfortunately, he’s still got the ELFs,” said Diana. “Even working together, the Sluts and I couldn’t block their telepathic commands. They control a staggering number of thralls these days, and they have made the ELF leaders very powerful. We can’t even listen in on what they’re thinking, or planning. If Finn uses them to replace his infiltrated comm systems . . .”
Douglas frowned. “Are any of these new thralls turning up in the Rookery? Maybe among the news refugees?”
“No,” Diana said firmly. “We’re still clear. The girls and I have set a mental scan in place, running on automatic. Any thrall who tried to get in would set off a mental alarm, and we’d all come running. Finn’s spies and agents are another matter, of course . . .”
“Stuart,” said Douglas. “You wanted to say something about Finn’s security people.”
“Damn right,” said Stuart. “Yes, we’ve been running rings around them, but that’s because mostly they’ve not been trained for security. They’re Finn’s fanatics, who never bothered much over military tactics. Just lately, though, we’ve been running into a harder breed. Thralls, showing limited esper abilities. They can sense what’s going on, even if they can’t prove it. You can’t sneak past a telepath. Douglas, to be using this many thralls, and trusting them to guard sensitive locations, Finn must have made a new deal with the ELFs.”
“I told you they were running the Arena,” said Diana. “All the signs are there. And after that recent mental explosion over the city, I think we have to assume that the uber-espers are now running the ELFs directly.”
“It would explain the behavior of the peacekeepers,” said Stuart.
“They’re animals!” said Nina. “Honestly, they are. People out there are terrified of anyone in a uniform these days.”
“Not necessarily a bad thing,” said Tel. “The worse things are outside, the more people will head for the Rookery. The city’s troubles make us strong. We’re going to have to expand again soon, Douglas. Seize more territory.”
“I still say we should seize the Arena, darlings,” said Nina. “Or at least blow it up, and put the poor bastards out of their misery.”
“It has to be ELFs,” said Stuart. “People wouldn’t do things like that. Everyone I speak to is sickened by what’s going on in the Arena now, in the name of entertainment. Even the old-school Rookery people, the most hardened criminals, are shocked and outraged. It seems there’s a line even they won’t cross; and no one’s more surprised than them. Douglas, you give the word, and we’ll blow the Arena right off the map.”
“No,” Tel said immediately. “We’re not ready for an operation that big. First, if it is the ELFs running things there, we’d have to commit Diana and all the Sluts to the mission, plus a hell of a big armed force, and still with no guarantee of success. We could lose all of them to the uber-espers, and leave the Rookery open to psionic attack. And second, even if we did succeed, Finn couldn’t afford to take such an open victory lying down. He’d have to strike back. You know he would. And he has the transmutation engines. He’d destroy this world rather than give it up. I’ve worked for him. I know how he thinks.”
“Can’t we cut the communication lines to the engines?” said Diana.
“We keep trying,” said Nina. “But they operate strictly from comm lines within the Imperial Palace. Under Finn’s personal control.”
“There are ways into the palace that even Finn doesn’t know about,” said Douglas, and all the others looked at him. He smiled slightly. “The palace was my home, remember? The royal family have always kept a few secrets to themselves. But we have to save those for real emergencies. We can’t throw them away on anything less than the final assault on the palace. Right, I think we’ve covered everything, so all of you can get the hell out of my room, and let me breathe again.”
The meeting broke up, and everyone went their separate ways. Nina, to her news site operations room, for the latest intelligence. Diana, to patrol with the Sluts. Tel, to plot and conspire with his own personal band of spies and informers. And Stuart Lennox went back to his own room, just down the corridor. He’d been on his feet all day, training old and new Rookery citizens in how to be soldiers, and he desperately needed some downtime.
That said, he was always happier in action rather than in planning sessions. Like everyone else on his home world of Virimonde, he had been raised as a warrior, and he preferred to think in simple, direct lines. He joined the raids into the outer city whenever he could, always up for a chance to kill Finn’s people. It didn’t satisfy like killing Finn would, but it would have to do, for now.
His spirits lifted a little as he pushed open his door and entered the small but comfortable room he shared with his new boyfriend. Jas Sri was already there, bustling back and forth and tidying things up while he waited for dinner to be ready. Jas was a great one for tidying up, and even the dust had learned to lie in straight lines while he was around. Jas worked with Nina at the news site, a media tech who specialized in adapting donated alien tech to make the news site invulnerable to outside attack. Stuart and Jas had been together ever since Nina first introduced them. (Nina had introduced a great many personable young men to Stuart, and was quietly and happily relieved when Stuart finally took a shine to one.) Jas was good for Stuart, not least because he wouldn’t put up with excessive brooding or dwelling on the past. Jas Sri lived very thoroughly in the present. He was tall, thin, dark-skinned, and very intense, and inclined to dramatics when he had an audience.
“About time you got home, honey,” Jas said, without looking round. “Dinner will be on the table in five minutes, and yes, there is pudding. There may even be custard, if you’re lucky. Try to remember to use the napkins, this time. And don’t drink from the finger bowl! I know you only do it to annoy me.”
“True,” Stuart admitted, slumping into the easy chair. “You are a true touch of civilization in a barbarous place, Jas.”
“And don’t I know it. You relax, honey, and I’ll find your slippers for you.”
Stuart had to smile. Jas mothered him unmercifully, just as he tried to mother everyone. He claimed it was genetically hardwired into him. Either that, or a gypsy curse. He kissed Stuart briefly on the forehead, patted him on the shoulder, and then hurried back to the stove tucked away in one corner of the room. Jas was naturally touchy-feely, but had learned to rein it in around Stuart. He didn’t want to put any pressure on the emotionally damaged man. Stuart didn’t talk much about Finn, or the things that had happened while they were together, but occasionally he would let slip a telling fact or detail, of the horrors he’d been through. Some of what Stuart had endured made Jas’s blood run cold, and then he would bite his lower lip hard and try to be extra supportive without being smothering. And sometimes, when they lay together in the narrow single bed, Stuart would cry out miserably in his sleep, and Jas would have to hold and comfort him until it was light again.
On the whole, Stuart did seem to be doing better. His many successful sorties into Finn’s territory had done much to restore his self-esteem, and he was once again the canny fighter he’d been as a Paragon. He and his hand-picked people had done serious damage to military targets; but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, until Finn was dead, and couldn’t haunt Stuart anymore.
Jas never said anything, but he always worried when Stuart was away on one of his missions, because he knew that a part of Stuart went into every fight looking for the peace that only death could bring him. All Jas could do was try to give his man a reason to live, a reason to come home again.
“Dinner’s ready!” he said brightly. “Yet another bright and inventive way to present the same old bland and boring vegetables. God, sometimes I think I’d kill for a good sausage.”
Douglas went for a walk around the block, just to stretch his legs and get a little fresh air into his lungs. Sometimes his room felt uncomfortably like a cell. As always, two Psycho Sluts accompanied him as bodyguards. They maintained a discreet distance, and discouraged anyone else from getting too close with harsh looks and the occasional mental prod. Among the crowds that cheered and smiled on Douglas wherever he went, there was always the chance of a disguised spy or assassin. Douglas felt pretty sure he could defend himself, but accepting the bodyguards was the price he paid for not having his friends go mental every time he felt like popping out on his own.
This evening he was accompanied by Alessandra Duquesne, putative leader of the Sluts, and her friend Joanna Maltravers. Both were big, bouncy blond teenagers who looked and sounded like they should still have been in a finishing school somewhere. They were both dressed in brightly colored silks, artfully cut and arranged to show off as much bare bronzed skin as possible, and sported black roses in their hair and tribal markings painted on their faces. There were twelve Psycho Sluts in all, young espers too individual or contrary to be embraced by the mass-mind of the oversoul, sworn to follow their beloved Jenny Psycho to the death and beyond. When they weren’t out blowing things up or killing Finn’s people with distressing verve and enthusiasm, they tended to hang around the lobby of the Lantern Lodge, reading gossip magazines, sharing makeup tips, and discussing new and nastier ways to slaughter bad guys.
Aren’t we awful?
one of them would inevitably say, and then they’d all dissolve into girlish giggles. The Rookery found them fascinating and frightening in equal measure.
Aren’t we awful?
one of them would inevitably say, and then they’d all dissolve into girlish giggles. The Rookery found them fascinating and frightening in equal measure.
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