Deathstalker Destiny (36 page)

The mighty human Empire had spread its seed across hundreds of worlds for hundreds of years, great and glorious, bestriding the scattered stars like a colossus. Its power and influence had shaped the destinies of both human and alien species, and many species that had dared to stand against the expanding Empire no longer existed. And now, after all these hundreds of years, Humanity was reaping what it had sown, and there was nowhere and no one they could turn to for help. The Empire’s sundered worlds were under attack from all sides at once, with what remained of their armies up against forces almost too large for human minds to grasp. The nightmare steel vessels of Shub. The huge golden ships of the Hadenmen. The awful dark presence of the Recreated. Humanity had its back to the wall, and everyone could see the vultures gathering.

The Recreated descended implacably on the homeworld Golgotha from one direction, while the Shub fleet closed in from another. The two great boogeymen of human history had finally come calling, and the barn cades stood largely unmanned. The ragged remains of the Imperial Fleet were scattered across the Empire, fighting doggedly against impossible odds, while great armies fought to the death on the worlds below, no quarter asked or given. Ghost Warriors, Furies, Grendels, and insect aliens stormed Humanity’s last redoubts, where men, women, and children fought with desperate courage for their species’ survival. Humanity might be going down, but it was going down fighting.

The nano plague was everywhere now, springing up on planet after planet. There were quarantines and forbidden zones and draconian health regulations, and none of them did a damned bit of good. There were no warning signs, no anticipatory symptoms; nothing that could be guarded against or fought. Infected people watched in horror as their bodies suddenly mutated and transformed, their genetic code being rewritten from the inside. Grotesque and awful shapes lurched through the streets of human cities, killing and feeding and pleading for help, before they finally succumbed to the inevitable final stage of the plague:
meltdown.
Many tried suicide, or called for mercy killings, but the nanotech within them remorselessly kept them alive until the final nightmarish end. Great gray rivers of undifferentiated goo swept slowly through silent and deserted human cities.

Shub had always understood the effectiveness of terror weapons.

There was mass rioting everywhere, as law and order and social structures broke down. Looting became epidemic as supplies grew scarce, and distribution became increasingly haphazard, and people grew tired of queuing for hours outside stores with mostly empty shelves. Panic spread faster than the plague. Religious crazies came bursting out of the woodwork, like rats joining a sinking ship, prophesying doom and destruction and the end of all things. According to them, all kinds of Messi ahs were on their way, but somehow always tomorrow, never today.

The revealing of Shub agents in high positions had only boosted the already general air of paranoia. People no longer trusted one another, even when it was clearly vital that they had to work together for survival. All it took was a shouted accusation, and a mob could form in seconds, chasing suspected Shub agents to their deaths. Guards patrolled the streets in large groups, backed by merciless laws and powers of a type not seen since Lionstone’s last days. They maintained a kind of peace, even if it was often only the peace of the newly dead.

The media ran little but news channels, often twenty-four hours a day. The public was desperate for information, and even bad news was better than the nightmares their imaginations conjured up when there was no news. Live broadcasting dominated, mostly because things were happening too fast now for reflection or in-depth study. The only ray of hope left in the Empire was the forthcoming Royal Wedding on Golgotha. Parliament made sure the preparations got extensive coverage. It was the only thing left that still distracted people.

The public had lost its faith in heroes. Jack Random had gone crazy, Owen Deathstalker and Hazel d‘Ark were missing, presumed dead, and no one had ever trusted Ruby Journey anyway. And the one they’d loved the most, the daredevil esper hero Julian Skye, had died in a suicide pact with his love BB Chojiro. His holo show was still popular, though. Fans held candlelight vigils outside his old Family house, declaring fervently that their hero would return to save them all, just when things seemed darkest. Some legends never run out of steam.

The hunt was still on for Daniel Wolfe, the nano carrier ; Public Enemy Number One. There was no trace of him anywhere, which should have been impossible. No human on any world would aid or hide him now, for any amount of money. People would burn down the houses of anyone even suspected of hiding him. But those few cool heads remaining remembered Shub’s teleport facilities. Daniel Wolfe could be anywhere. Anywhere at all.

When the second and traitorous Half a Man murdered General Beckett, and blew up his flagship, that effectively put an end to the Imperial Navy as a single force. Both Army and Navy had respected Beckett, and followed wherever he led. Now, any number of officers were competing for the vital position, and factions tore what was left of the Fleet apart, producing only confusion and anarchy. There was no overall game plan anymore. Increasingly now, each planet and each ship fought alone, protecting its own. Parliament issued increasingly hysterical orders, and was ignored by everyone. Now Golgotha stood alone, the homeworld of Humanity left effectively unprotected while Shub and the Recreated raced to see which would get there first.

Maybe it was the end of all things, after all.

 

Jack Random was on the run, but he was used to that. He took advantage of the general chaos, hiding himself in the din with the ease of long practice. No one noticed one more hooded wanderer in the crowded streets, and anyone who made the mistake of trying to mug him found himself staring down the barrel of an energy gun. But mostly no one bothered him. Others had their own problems.

He’d tried hunting down old friends and allies, appearing at back doors at unexpected hours, looking for support, or a place to go to ground, or even a handful of credits for a hot meal, but no one would see him, let alone talk to him. By now everyone had heard what he’d done. He had put himself beyond the pale, and all hands were turned against him. Truth be told, he took a kind of cold satisfaction from that. It felt good, not having to live up to other people’s expectations anymore. He was his own man now, unfettered and uncompromising, free to do whatever he considered to be the right thing, and to hell with everyone else.

He was currently sleeping on the cold, hard concrete floor of one of his weapons caches, wrapped in a cloak and his own bitter satisfaction. He’d never trusted peace to endure, and he’d been right. He’d left caches of weapons and supplies all over the Parade of the Endless, just in case he might need them again someday. In fact, the city contained enough hidden guns and explosives and other useful items for him to fight a very long war, if need be. He smiled at the thought, lying stiffly on the hard floor, and watched his breath steam on the air before him. The lockup garage he was currently calling home was both secret and secure, but it was completely lacking in comforts, most definitely including any form of heating. Winter had come early to Golgotha, as if things weren’t bad enough, and the nights were bitterly cold. And all Random had was his cloak and his rage to keep him warm. But Jack Random had put up with worse in the past, in his long fight for honor and revenge.

He sat up slowly, wincing, and wondered why, if he was a Maze-enhanced and rejuvenated superbeing, he still woke up most mornings feeling like someone had just dug him up, and then hit him over the head with the shovel. He hawked and spat, coughed for just a little longer than was comfortable, and then washed out his mouth with what was left of the last night’s alcohol. Booze was cheaper than clean water at the moment, and easier to find. Even if it did taste like battery acid. There was a worm at the bottom of the bottle, and he chewed it noisily. All he had for breakfast was a few protein cubes in the emergency locker, and he didn’t feel up to facing them just yet. Instead, he rose slowly to his feet and then forced himself through a series of exercises, until his body was running smoothly again. He strapped on his gun and sword, and searched through the boxes of supplies for a bandolier of grenades. He was only partway down his list of crooked politicians, and he was looking forward to hunting them down one by one. The last thing on his mind was the previous Empress, Lionstone XIV, also known as the Iron Bitch, so he was more than a little surprised when he suddenly heard her voice speaking in his head.

“Indeed it has,” said Random, looking vaguely about him, even though he realized the voice was coming through his comm implant. “How the hell did you find me? And my private comm channel, for that matter?”

“Nice try, but no. If you could locate me that easily, you’d have sent somebody to kill me by now.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” said Random flatly.

“Get to the point, Lionstone.”

“So,” Random said slowly, “the enemy of my enemy is now my friend, or at least my ally. Nothing new there. I made equally repellent deals and agreements in the past, to sustain my rebellion against you. How time makes fools of us all. What is it exactly that you want from me, Lionstone?”

“Yeah,” said Random. “I think she probably would. Tell me more about what it is you want.”