Deathstalker Return (33 page)

 

 

Finn Durandal was having an equally unsatisfying meeting with the clone representative, Elijah du Katt, in the secret laboratory Finn funded deep in the rotten heart of the Rookery. It was the only place such a lab could be kept entirely secret and properly guarded. And given what du Katt was doing, on Finn’s instructions . . . The half dozen long rooms, set some distance under a main street, were crammed full of the very latest tech, some of it legal only because no one had found out about it yet.

Du Katt was all over the place. He’d cloned himself—quite illegally, and now there were nine of him—on the unanswerable grounds that he was the only person he could trust to work with on such a clandestine and dangerous project as this. Finn was also pretty sure there was a touch of narcissism involved in the decision, but he said nothing. He liked to know other people’s vices and weaknesses. It made them so much easier to control. The clones darted back and forth around the lab, somehow never quite getting in each other’s way, and occasionally moving in eerie symmetry. The original du Katt identified himself with a sloppy hat of no discernable style or purpose. He hovered uncertainly beside Finn as he strolled through the laboratory. Finn wasn’t smiling. Du Katt was sweating.

“Well,” murmured Finn, letting one hand trail dangerously close to some delicate-looking apparatus just to watch du Katt flinch, “how goes our little project? You’ve been very quiet just lately. I’d hate to think you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

“There’s been nothing to tell,” du Katt said quickly. He looked to his clones for support, but they were all busy being busy and keeping their heads down. Du Katt glared at them venomously, and then tried an ingratiating smile on Finn. It wasn’t successful. Du Katt dropped the grin and settled for being businesslike. “It’s all been in my reports, Sir Champion. Using your authority, my people sealed off the Victory Gardens behind the House of Parliament—there’s never any shortage of terrorist scares to take advantage of—and then we dug up the graves of Jack Random and Ruby Journey. The preserved corpses were still in surprisingly good shape, and we were able to obtain good cell samples from both bodies. We then destroyed the remains using transmutation bombs, following your instructions, to ensure that nobody else would be able to make use of the bodies, and then we filled in the graves again. No one saw anything, no one suspects anything. The men you supplied me with to do the actual hard labor—they have been . . . taken care of, I trust? Good. Good . . . If word were to get out that we were trying to clone two respected heroes of the Great Rebellion, I’m pretty sure we’d all be dragged through the streets and burned at the stake. This goes well beyond disrespect, and into desecration and blasphemy.”

“You let me worry about things like that,” said Finn. “You still haven’t answered my question. How goes the work?”

Du Katt turned away to fiddle with some equipment so he wouldn’t have to meet Finn’s cold gaze. “You do ask a lot, Sir Durandal. First, you wanted me to produce clones of Random and Journey, that you could brainwash and control. Failing that, you wanted me to discover the source of their powers, so that they could be bestowed on . . . persons of your choosing. Well, I and my other selves have run every test we can think of on the cell samples we took from the bodies, and I have to tell you, in my expert opinion, this whole project is a waste of everybody’s time.” Du Katt met Finn’s gaze squarely, the effect only slightly spoiled by his trembling lower lip. “The whole thing’s impossible! The genetic material involved has been so altered and transformed through contact with the Madness Maze that it doesn’t respond to any of the established cloning procedures. There’s nothing there we can work with!”

Finn frowned. “Are you saying . . . it isn’t human tissue anymore?”

“I mean, it isn’t any form of life I’m familiar with! It just . . . doesn’t make sense!”

“Send all the information you have to our Shub allies on Haden,” said Finn. “See if they can make anything of it. And calm yourself, du Katt. Hysteria is so unattractive in a scientist.”

Du Katt nodded quickly, and actually did relax a little. He’d been expecting a far worse reaction from Finn. “How is our James performing?” he said, trying hard to sound casual and not at all like he was trying to change the subject. “Performing well, I trust? Giving no cause for concern?”

“Any reason he should be?” said Finn.

“Oh, no! No, of course not! I was just . . . asking.” Du Katt decided he might have been better off with the first subject after all. “You know, according to certain records I uncovered in the clone underground’s files, you weren’t the first to suggest creating a clone of the dear departed James Campbell. It seems such an offer was made, to the then-King William and Queen Niamh, by my predecessor of that time. They could have produced a perfect clone to replace the deceased original, and no one need ever have known, but . . . it seems the King and Queen reacted very badly to the suggestion.The Queen apparently said it would be an abomination . . . and that was the end of the clone underground’s power and influence for a long time . . .”

“Did you follow up on my other suggestions?” said Finn, seating himself comfortably in du Katt’s favorite chair as if by instinct. “Tell me you have had some success there, at least.”

“I’m . . . afraid not, Sir Champion.” Du Katt could feel small beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He held his hands tightly together behind his back to keep them from shaking. Finn being so calm in the face of continual bad news was not a good sign. “I had the Victory Gardens searched from end to end, using the most thorough equipment, but there was no trace anywhere of any remains of the late Captain Silence. His ashes may have been scattered over the Victory Gardens, but that was over a century ago. None of his genetic material remains there. I’m sorry.”

“Well, let us not despair,” said Finn. “I’ve had another idea that I thought we might try.” He reached inside his armor, and all the du Katt clones dived for cover in case it was a weapon. Du Katt would very much have liked to have done the same, but he couldn’t afford to appear weak in front of Finn Durandal. So he stood his ground as Finn’s hand came out holding a test tube containing barely half an inch of clear liquid. Finn smiled at it fondly. “This is all that remains of the esper drug I purchased from the estimable Dr. Happy. A most remarkable drug. I thought we might try it on the cell samples you have left. See if anything happens.”

Du Katt accepted the test tube gingerly, but knew better than to argue, or appear less than enthusiastic. He stalked over to his other selves, only now reappearing from behind the more solid pieces of lab equipment, and bullied them into setting up the necessary conditions for the experiment. It wasn’t difficult. Place cell samples and esper drug in the same secure container, bring them together through remote control, and then observe the results from what everyone hoped was a safe distance. They watched the results on a computer screen, but for a long time nothing seemed to be happening. Du Katt was already rehearsing some credible-sounding excuses, when . . . everyone’s head snapped round suddenly. Something had changed. There was
something
in the lab with them. Finn was on his feet, his gun in his hand. They all looked frantically around. There was nothing to be seen, but they were not alone. They could feel it.

There was a presence, unfixed and unfamiliar, slowly suffusing through the lab. It was growing steadily stronger, as though approaching from very far away, from some unknown direction. It felt angry, dangerous, threatening. The whole lab began to shake. Tech exploded, collapsed in on itself, melted and ran away. Fires broke out spontaneously all over the lab, and all the automatic sprinklers came on. Great dents appeared in the steel walls, as though something was beating on them with invisible fists. Computers began chanting in unknown languages, in loud angry voices. The clones clung together, crying out like frightened children. Du Katt was trying to hide behind Finn, who swept his gun back and forth, searching for a target. The temperature in the lab suddenly plummeted, as though something was sucking all the warmth out of it. And slowly and remorselessly, something began to manifest. It wasn’t in any way human, and none of them could bear to look at it. Finn put away his gun, unclipped a grenade from his belt and threw it at the chamber holding the activated cell samples. The grenade detonated, and the whole container disappeared. The presence snapped off, still unformed, gone as though it had never been there. The fires went out, the sprinklers shut down, the computers shut up. The laboratory slowly grew still again.

“Well,” said Finn. “I don’t think we’ll try that again. Du Katt, where . . . Ah, there you are. Would I be right in assuming those were the very last untreated cell samples you had?”

“I’m afraid so, Sir Durandal,” du Katt said unhappily. “The procedures we had to use were very destructive, as I advised you. And since we destroyed the bodies, on your instructions, there won’t be any more. And I can’t help feeling that’s probably a good thing.”

“You never were very ambitious,” said Finn. He drew his disrupter again, picked a clone at random, and shot him. The energy beam punched right through his chest, and sent the dead body crashing to the floor. Flames flickered around the great hole in his chest, but not strongly enough to bring on the sprinklers again. Du Katt and the other clones called out with one voice, and then were very still. Finn looked around him, smiling easily.

“Just a little reminder to do better, in the future. I reward success, but I always punish failure. So, keep yourselves busy, until I have other work for you. And du Katt, what do you think that was? That thing we summoned?”

Du Katt swallowed hard. “I think that might have been Random or Journey’s ghost, Sir Durandal.”

Finn nodded. “What a remarkable age we do live in, du Katt. Better have the lab exorcised. Just in case.”

 

 

Emma Steel was standing on her head in one corner of her room, doing her breathing exercises, when the front door announced she had a visitor. Emma sighed heavily. It never failed. It was the end of another long day, and she’d been looking forward to a little quiet relaxation before she crashed out on her bed, and now some poor fool had turned up to annoy her. If it was another representative from the Church Militant, come to ask her aggressively about the state of her soul, Emma decided she was going to see how many times she could get him to bounce as she threw him down the stairs. She regained her feet, stalked over to the door and scowled through the viewer. On the other side of the door she was surprised to see Stuart Lennox, the young Paragon from Virimonde. She hadn’t thought he was talking to her. Even more surprising, he showed clear signs of having been crying recently. Very recently. Emma sighed again. This was going to be complicated, she just knew it. She unlocked and opened the door and gave Stuart her best cold glare.

“It’s been a very long day,” she said flatly. “And I can’t believe you’ve come all this way, at this late hour, to bring me good news. So, what’s happened?”

Stuart swallowed noisily. His eyes were red and puffy, and all the self-respect had gone out of him. He looked like a child dressed up in Paragon’s armor. “It’s all gone wrong, Emma. You have to help me.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“You’re the only one who can help!”

“Why don’t you go to your good friend Finn Durandal?”

Stuart burst into tears. Loud, helpless, dismal sobs that shook his whole body. He just stood there, as though he didn’t even have the strength left to raise his hands to his face. Emma raised her eyes to the heavens, and stepped back.

“Oh, all right! All right! Get in here, before the neighbors see you. And stop that sniveling—you’re a Paragon!”

Stuart tried hard, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand as he entered Emma’s apartment. He walked as though there was something broken inside him, and all but fell into the nearest chair. Emma looked quickly up and down her corridor, and then shut and locked the door again. She stood over Stuart, hands on hips, and tried not to scowl.

“Talk to me, Lennox. What’s happened?”

He sniffed a few times, and managed a small uncertain smile. “When you’re training to be a Paragon, they teach you how to fight anything, except yourself. Your own heart, your own . . . needs. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I was wrong. So wrong.” He looked round sharply. “Did you just hear something? Was there anyone else outside in the hall? No, of course not, you’d have said something. Sorry. Sorry. I don’t mean to be so jumpy, but . . . Finn’s people are everywhere these days. I don’t think he knows what’s happened yet, but he will. And then . . . I did everything I could think of to make sure I wasn’t followed here, but . . . It’s hard to be sure of anything, anymore.”

Emma wanted to take him by the shoulders and give him a good shaking, but she had a feeling he might collapse entirely if she did. It disturbed her to see a fellow Paragon so . . . beaten down. She pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.

“Brace up,” she said, not unkindly. “No matter how bad things are, never despair. That’s one of the first things you’re supposed to learn as a Paragon.”

He smiled again, but there was no humor in it. “Being a Paragon doesn’t mean what it used to.”

Emma sighed, but kept it internal. She knew when a long story was on its way. “All right, Lennox. From the beginning.”

He swallowed hard, and made a visible effort to pull himself together. His chin came up, and his eyes finally met hers squarely. “Something happened, tonight, at the Sangreal. Something bad. I know, you warned me, but . . . Things have been getting worse there. You can’t imagine the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve seen Paragons doing. No one else drinks in the Sangreal anymore, just Paragons back from their quest. Even the groupies are afraid to go in there now. The Paragons have been exploring more
extreme
pleasures, and no one dares to say anything. I knew some of these people, from before, and they’ve changed. They’ve all changed. Men and women who used to be my heroes, doing . . . vile things. It got so bad I wouldn’t go there, unless I was with Finn. I felt safe with Finn. But even though he never joined in, and never let them touch me, he never did anything to stop it either. I think it amused him.”