Deathstalker

Unexpected Developments

The Sunstrider came howling out of hyperspace and plunged straight into the atmosphere of the planet Shandrakor. Smoke and fire billowed around the stricken craft as it plunged through the thickening air. The stem was a ragged wound, and fragments of outer hull tumbled away as the ship bucked and heaved in the turbulent atmosphere. The Sunstrider had taken a hell of a beating from the two Imperial starcruisers that ambushed it off Mistworld, and now it fell like a stone toward the unknown surface below. What was left of the outer hull blazed an angry crimson from the heat of reentry, and the inner skin was warped and twisted. The yacht had never been intended to make planetfall without its force screens operating. It had also never been intended to take the kind of punishment Imperial starcruisers could hand out, and it was something of a miracle that the ship had held together so long. The Sunstrider fell, its engines cutting in and out as one system after another failed. Inside the crippled ship, Owen Deathstalker hung on to a handy stanchion for dear life, thrown this way and that by the shuddering descent. The lounge extractors were struggling to clear thick choking smoke out of the air, and the emergency lighting flashed on and off in sudden surges. Hazel d'Ark and Ruby Journey had wedged themselves between the drinks cabinet and the inner wall and were fighting to stay there. At least it offered some protection from the unsecured furniture and fittings flying about the lounge like bulky shrapnel. Jack Random had found a quiet area and was riding the sudden dips and rises with practiced ease, suggesting the professional rebel had traveled on his share of crashing ships in his time. Probably has, thought Owen as he glanced about him through the drifting smoke for the Hadenmen. Tobias Moon had wedged a chair into one corner of the lounge and was sitting there at his ease. He looked entirely calm and relaxed, and Owen felt very much like hitting him on general principles. It was all he could do to remain vaguely upright and keep his last meal down where it belonged.

"Oz, talk to me. What's happening?"

"We're crashing, Owen. You must have noticed."

The crackling of a nearby fire suddenly sounded a lot closer than it had been, and the air grew uncomfortably warm. Something large and jagged thrust suddenly down through the ceiling, plunging into the lounge floor like a massive metal javelin. The floor seemed to drop out from under Owen's feet for a second, and he hung on to the stanchion with both hands.

"I meant, what are you doing about it? Give me a status report!"

"All right, but you're not going to like it. At the moment, the vast majority of systems are doing everything they can just to hold the ship together. We've taken extensive damage inside and out, and it is continuing. Multiple breaches of the outer and inner hulls, and the stem is gone. There are fires in three compartments, but I'm on top of it. We're losing air and pressure badly, but at the rate we're falling we'll crash into something hard and unyielding long before air loss becomes a problem."

Owen winced. "What are our chances of walking away from a landing?"

"Not good. The force shields are down, and we don't have the power to raise them again. The Sunstrider was never intended to take punishment like this. It's a pleasure yacht, not a gunship. Most of the automatics are down, and the backup systems are sitting in a corner crying their eyes out. I'm having to run everything directly and juggle power back and forth between the systems according to what's working. There is some good news. The basic structure of the ship is still pretty much intact, which is just as well, as I have absolutely no information on how to repair it."

"Have we got any life pods, or anti-grav chutes?" yelled Hazel. "Could we bail out if we had to?"

"You do have to, and no you can't." The AI sounded positively disgusted. "With all the power and safety systems built into this ship, no one ever thought emergency evacuation systems would be needed. We've got a waterbed in the main stateroom. You could chuck that out and hope you landed on it."

Jack Random looked across at Owen. "Interesting sense of humor your AI has."

"Yeah," said Owen. "And if I ever find out who programmed it into him, I'll have his balls in a vise."

The ship convulsed, and everyone was thrown from one side of the lounge to the other. The drinks cabinet overturned, and there was broken glass everywhere. There was a high-pitched screech from somewhere aft, and then the ship righted itself again. The extractors had sucked most of the smoke out of the air, but the fire next door sounded closer than ever. The wall Owen was leaning against was growing uncomfortably hot.

"All right," he said loudly. "What the hell just happened?"

"We just lost the stern assembly," said Ozymandius. "I'm jettisoning everything that isn't absolutely essential. It won't make a lot of difference in the long run, but I've run out of anything else to do."

"Wait just a minute," said Owen. "What do you mean, jettisoning? As in, dropping extremely expensive items overboard? Do you know how much I paid for this yacht?"

"Yes, and they saw you coming. If we survive this, you could always ask for your money back. Or claim it on the insurance."

"It isn't bloody insured!"

Jack Random looked at the Hadenman. "Didn't you just know he was going to say that?"

"Owen," said Hazel, "shut the hell up and let the AI get on with it. He's in the best position to know what's necessary."

"All right," said Owen, sulkily. "Assuming by some miracle we survive the landing, what's waiting for us down there? Will the planet support human life?"

"Air and gravity are within acceptable limits," said the AI briskly. "Nothing you can't cope with. It's pretty damn hot down there, though."

"It doesn't matter," said Random. "It's not as if we had any choice in the matter. Description of land masses, please."

"Did you hear that?" said Ozymandius. "He said please! I'm glad there's someone on this ship with a few manners. Land masses: just the one, stretching from pole to pole, with a handful of inland seas. Unusual. The land mass is covered with varying degrees of jungle. Life signs all over the place, big and small, but no indications of intelligent life. No starport, no cities, no gatherings of artificial structures. In fact, no structures at all that I can see. However, I do have a location for one structure in my memory files, courtesy of your father, Owen. Exact coordinates for the Last Standing of the original Deathstalker. However, I have to say I see nothing at all where it's supposed to be. I can only assume it's shielded in some way."

"The Last Standing," said Owen softly. "This is where he came and made his stand against the Shadow Men. It's been a legend in my Family for generations."

"What happened when they finally met?" said Hazel.

"No one knows. None of them were ever seen again. Head for the coordinates, Oz. Put us down as close to it as you can."

The ship shook again, and then steadied itself. "That was the last remnants of the outer hull, Owen," said the AI. "All we've got left now is the basic shell. I've managed to steer us into a glide path that has steadied our descent, but unfortunately we now have a new problem."

"Hit me with it," said Owen resignedly.

"I cannot continue to hold this ship together and pilot us in for a safe landing. The moment I release my hold on the ship's systems to compute a landing, they'll fall apart so fast it'll make your head spin. But if I don't work out an exact plan for our landing, we are going to end up scattered over a hell of a lot of jungle. I'm open to suggestions, including prayer."

Owen realized everyone was looking at him and shook his head quickly. "Sorry, people, I just bought the ship. I haven't a clue on how to fly it. That's what I put Oz in for. Hazel, you're a pilot. Why don't you take over?"

"Because I'm not qualified to handle anything this complex. And in a situation like this, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Ruby?"

The bounty hunter shook her head. "Same as you. You need an expert."

"Then I guess it's down to me," said Random. "As always. I've flown everything else in my time, I don't see why this should be any different. So here I come again, to save the day."

"That won't be necessary," said Tobias Moon in his inhuman buzzing voice. "I'm a Hadenman. I have experience as a pilot, and I can interface directly with the ship's computers. You haven't flown a ship in years. Random, and you are not what you used to be. Logically, I have to be the better bet."

"I'm supposed to trust my life to a Hadenman who thinks he can talk to computers?" said Hazel. "Great. Wonderful. Why don't I just shoot myself now and get it over with?"

"Stop complaining, or I'll help you," said Owen. "Moon, we're in your hands."

The Hadenman nodded briefly, his face impassive. He closed his glowing golden eyes, and his breathing slowed until it was barely perceptible. Owen watched him closely. He was desperate to do something, but all he could do was watch and hope. The Hadenman's voice suddenly sounded through all their comm implants.

"I'm patched into the flight computers through my implant. Hang on to something. The ride's about to get a bit bumpy."

The ship rolled sickly from one side to the other as the engines suddenly roared with new life and purpose. The lights flickered and grew dim, and a side door blew open. Flames burst into the lounge from the inferno in the next compartment Owen threw himself aside, and the heat of the flames passing scorched his bare face and hands. Jack Random tried to close the door, but the heat drove him back. Hazel and Ruby Journey picked up the drinks cabinet between them and advanced on the flames, using it as a shield. They pushed back the flames, but couldn't let go of the cabinet long enough to make a grab for the door. Owen plunged forward, put his shoulder to the door and slammed it shut. Hazel and Ruby wedged the cabinet against the door to keep it closed, and then all three collapsed on the shaking floor.

Owen studied his hands carefully. They were red and smarting, but didn't seem to be actually burned. He'd been lucky. He looked up sharply as the roar of the engines faltered and then cut out. The ship dropped like a stone. Owen's stomach lurched, and he looked round for something to grab onto. The sudden quiet was deafening, and the fall seemed to go on forever. And then the engines roared to life again, slowing the descent like a kick in the pants. The Sunstrider slowed and slowed, and then the engines cut out again, and Owen knew that was the last of their power. The ship crashed into the top of the jungle, smashing through the trees. The impact picked Owen up and threw him against the wall, and that was the last he knew of the landing.

His head ached, but he could hear the crackle of flames nearby, and he knew that was important. He opened his eyes, wasted some breath on a few curses, and then forced himself back to his feet. The floor was steady again, though at something of an angle, but his legs weren't. He stamped his feet and shook his head to clear it. He'd be weak later, when there was time. He looked around him, coughing painfully as the thickening smoke irritated his lungs. The fire in the next compartment had blown away the door and what was left of the drinks cabinet and had taken a firm hold on one wall of the lounge.

"Oz, talk to me! Status report!"

There was only quiet, and the rising roar of the flames. He heard someone coughing close at hand and stumbled forward through the smoke to find Hazel trying to drag a semiconscious Ruby Journey toward the far door. He grabbed hold of Ruby's leathers, helped haul her over to the door and kicked it open. There was only a flickering light in the corridor beyond it, but the air seemed clearer.

"Head straight on, and you'll get to the main airlock," said Owen, fighting to control his cough. "You get your friend out; I'll bring the others. Move it!"

Hazel snarled something in return, but he'd already turned away. He raised his cloak up over his mouth and nose and plunged back into the smoke. It was already so thick he couldn't see more than a foot or so ahead of him. He found Jack Random by almost falling over him. The old rebel was crawling along the floor, down where the smoke was thinnest, but he'd lost all sense of direction. Owen helped him up and got him to the far door. He sent Jack after Hazel and Ruby and then hesitated in the doorway. Tobias Moon was still in there, but Owen didn't know if he had it in him to go hack into the smoke again. His lungs were aching and his head was swimming. If he went back into the lounge again, there was a good chance he might not be able to make it out again. And Moon was a Hadenman, after all. Just as Owen was only an outlaw. He swore dispassionately and went back into the smoke.

Finding the Hadenman was easier than finding the others; he was still where Owen had last seen him, sitting wedged in his corner. Owen tried to pick him up and was startled at the man's weight. He could barely move him. Augmentations, no doubt. He tried again, and still couldn't lift him. Owen struggled with the unmoving form and cursed it between coughs. Air was getting scarce, but he hadn't come this far to leave the Hadenman behind and run for the door. He boosted, and new strength flooded through his muscles. He pulled Moon to his feet, draped an arm over his shoulder and headed to where he thought the far door was. The smoke was everywhere now, thick and smothering. It was like walking at the bottom of a great gray sea. He could feel the heat of flames on both sides of him. And then Hazel was suddenly there with him, adding her strength to his, and between them they got the Hadenman out the far door and down the narrow corridor beyond, and finally out into the clearer air of the main airlock. The door slammed shut behind them.

Owen leaned back against it as he dropped out of boost, and the last of the strength went out of his legs. He dumped Moon unceremoniously on the floor and sat there beside him tor a while, coughing foul stuff up out of his lungs. After a while he felt strong enough to raise his head and look around, and wasn't surprised to find Hazel sitting next to him, looking almost as bad as he felt. Ruby Journey and Jack Random were sitting together, a little way apart. They had their guns in their hands, and although they both looked a bit pale, they were keeping a watchful eye on the outer hatch. Tobias Moon lay flat on his back, eyes closed, breathing steadily. Owen sniffed.

"Nice landing. Moon. Sure you couldn't have shaken us about a bit more?"

He stopped talking as he realized how harsh his voice sounded. His throat felt as though someone had scoured it out with wire wool. Hazel looked at him sardonically.

"We're down and we're still alive. Anything else is a bonus. Any idea why Moon is still out? He doesn't seem injured."

"Beats me," said Owen. "I can't get any response out of Oz, either. Maybe they were both knocked out when the computer systems finally crashed."

"Actually, I'm conserving power," said the AI through Owen's comm implant. "Moon pretty much drained the ship's batteries getting us down. I'm going to have to go offline for a while, Owen. The ship's a mess and so am I. Short of a complete refit and rebuilding, this ship's not going anywhere, and neither are we. Unless you've fallen in love with this planet and decided to settle down here, you'd better pray that someone at the Last Standing is feeling hospitable."

"How badly are you damaged?" said Owen.

"Don't ask. You don't want to know. You're not far from the Standing. About half a mile, north northwest. Walking distance under normal circumstances, which these aren't. In case you hadn't noticed, it's an oven out there, and it's just going to get hotter as the day goes on."

"What about the air?" said Hazel.

"Your lungs are about to go slumming, but it won't kill you. There are a lot of other things out there that'll take care of that. For the moment, the local wildlife is giving you plenty of room, but there's no telling how long that'll last. I'm getting readings on lifeforms everywhere, from very small to extremely large and everything in between. Can't give you any details; the sensors took a real battering."

"Any recommendations?" said Random.

"Yes. Shoot yourselves now and get it over with. From what I can make out, everything out there that moves is attacking everything else, whether it moves or not, and eating it. Damn place is a slaughterhouse. No signs of intelligence or cooperation, just if it moves, jump it. Reminds me of Imperial politics on a larger than usual scale."

"Nice place you've brought us to, Deathstalker," said Ruby.

Owen thought hard. There was only one course of action that made any sense, but he couldn't help hoping he could come up with something less obviously suicidal. Unfortunately, he seemed to have backed himself into a corner, tactically speaking. He looked round at his companions and wondered if his face was as grim as theirs.

"We can't stay here," he said bluntly. "Sunstrider is falling apart at the seams, and I think it would be in all our best interests to be a long way from here when it finally goes critical. Given the unfriendly and downright homicidal nature of the local wildlife, I think our best bet is to make a run for the Last Standing and hope we can find some sanctuary there."

"Let me see if I've got this right," said Ruby in her cold, even voice. "We're going to fight our way through half a mile of alien carnage and slaughter in order to reach some ruin that's been deserted for hundreds of years? If it's there at all? That's our plan?"

"Got it in one," said Owen.

"All right," said Ruby. "I'm up for it. I could use a little exercise."

Owen gave her a hard look, but she didn't seem to be joking. "It may not be all bad news. According to Family legend, the Last Standing is supposed to be a massive structure with considerable technological defenses. Assuming we can get past those defenses, we should find my ancestor still there, held in stasis. If we can wake him, I'm sure he'll help."

"There's a lot of it's and maybes in all that," said Hazel. "I don't have much faith in legends anymore. The last time we went looking for one, we found him." She looked severely at Jack Random, who glared right back at her. Hazel sniffed and turned back to Owen. "Come on, Owen, what are our chances, really?"

"Not good," Owen admitted. "But all the alternatives are worse."

"I seem to be hearing that a lot just recently," said Hazel. "Ever since I joined up with you, in fact. I should have stayed at home and become an accountant, like mother wanted. There's always work for an accountant, and people very rarely shoot at them. Or maroon them on savage planets with no table manners."

"Oh, I don't know," said Random. "I can think of quite a few accountants I'd have cheerfully dumped somewhere unpleasant. Right next to the lawyers."

Owen looked across at Tobias Moon, who was still lying flat on his back, dead to the world. "He'd better wake up soon," Owen said flatly, "because I'm damned if I'm carrying a great lump like him through half a mile of homicidal jungle."

"We could always use him as a shield," said Ruby. "Or a battering ram."

"If I didn't have such a good nature, I'd stay unconscious and let you carry me," said Tobias Moon, without lifting his head.

Owen looked at him severely. "Eavesdroppers rarely hear well of themselves."

"I believe that's the point." Moon sat up slowly. "Everything seems to be functioning again. Hopefully we can find some energy crystals at the Last Standing. I used up most of my reserves getting us down in one piece. Not a bad landing, if I say so myself."

"I'd hate to be on one of your bad ones," said Random.

"You're alive, aren't you?" said Moon.

"Enough chat and friendly banter," said Owen. "It's time we were moving. Oz, how long have we got before the Sunstrider goes into meltdown?"

"I should leave right now," said the AI. "I'm going to have to shut down, Owen. You'll have to struggle on without me. If you find compatible hardware at the Standing, download me into that. Otherwise, you're on your own. Try not to get yourself killed."

"I'll do my best," said Owen. He wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn't come. Ozymandius had been with him since he was a child. He'd never had to cope without the AI before. "I'll be back for you, Oz. One way or another, I'll be back."

"If we've finished with the tender goodbyes, perhaps we could get a move on," said Ruby. "You're the one who said the ship is going to blow."

Owen nodded curtly and moved over to the outer hatch. "Oz, anything nasty out there?" There was no reply. Owen bit his lower lip. He really was on his own now. He drew his gun and put his ear to the metal of the hatch. It was uncomfortably warm to the touch, suggesting the onboard fires were getting closer. He couldn't hear a thing. The metal was too thick. A passing Investigator could have been slaughtering a brass band out there, and he wouldn't have heard anything. He looked back at the others. "Stand ready. Hazel, get over here by the manual release. When I give you the nod, open the hatch."

Hazel moved over to the controls, and everyone drew a gun or a blade, according to their nature. They looked tired and tense, but prepared. Owen wished he'd had some armor and heavy-duty weaponry put on board at some point, but he'd never seen the need in a pleasure yacht. Assuming he got out of this mess alive and reasonably intact, it was a mistake he wouldn't make again. The universe was not a friendly place. He hefted the disrupter in his hand and looked back at the others.

"Everybody ready? Right. Remember, no rushing outside the moment the hatch opens. We're going to take this slow and steady and very carefully, until we know the lay of the land."

"Is he always like this?" Ruby said to Hazel.

"Mostly," said Hazel. "He used to be a lord. I think he inherited the pompousness along with the big ears."

Owen decided he hadn't heard that. "Hazel, open the hatch."

There was a worryingly long grinding noise, and then the hutch slid open. Bright crimson light spilled into the airlock, along with the heavy humid air of the jungle. It smelled of rotting meat. And then everything in the world tried to get through the hatch at once. There were huge ferocious shapes with teeth and claws and glaring eyes, fighting each other for the chance to get in. There were smaller things that seemed to be all teeth and claws pouring over the lower edge of the airlock in waves. There were flying things and lashing tendrils of vegetation with vicious spines and barbs, and it all wanted to get in. There were screams and roars and ululating howls, echoing deafeningly in the confined space of the airlock.

A long tentacled thing surged toward Owen, and he shot it automatically. The energy blast hit the beast at point-blank range, and its head exploded, showering him with foul-smelling blood. Something with huge clawed hands and a mouth bigger than Owen's head hauled the tentacled body out of the way and hurled itself at Owen. He met it with his sword, and more blood spurted as he cut deep into the leathery flesh.

"Shut the hatch!" he screamed. "Shut the bloody hatch!"

Everyone was firing their guns at once, but the creatures kept coming, slavering in their eagerness to get at new prey. The airlock was full of awful life, and swords swung viciously. Hazel fought to get back to the control panels. A long tentacle whipped through the air, snatched up Moon, and hauled him bodily out the hatch and into the surging chaos outside.

"Don't shut the hatch!" yelled Owen. "They've got Moon! Somebody help him!"

"Somebody else help him," snapped Random, cutting doggedly at a slimy creature that was apparently too stupid to know it should have been dead by now. "I've got my own problems."

Hazel managed to hit the control button with her elbow, and the hatch began to close. The heavy steel weight moved remorselessly forward, cutting slowly but firmly through everything that got in its way. Gradually the hatchway grew smaller, and the larger creatures were forced outside. The hatch finally slammed shut, and the remaining smaller creatures were trapped in the airlock. Owen and Random fought back to back, cutting down the vicious alien life as it struggled to get at them. Random fought well, Owen thought, for an old man. Hazel and Ruby were also fighting back-to-back, and making a bloody mess of anything that came within reach. The horrors fell, one after the other, large and small, until finally it was over. Owen slowly lowered his sword and leaned against the bulkhead wall, panting for breath. It seemed very quiet in the airlock now, though the air was thick with the stench of blood and death. There were bodies everywhere, and blood dripped from every surface. Behind Owen, Random was coughing up something large and juicy. Hazel and Ruby were leaning on each other for support and glaring about them, swords still at the ready.

"Moon," Owen said harshly. "He's still out there."

"Then he's dead," said Hazel. "And so would we be, if we were stupid enough to go out after him."

"Not necessarily," said Ruby. "He is a Hadenman, after all."

They all looked up sharply as the sound of energy guns firing came dimly to them from somewhere close at hand.

"Could the Empire have found us already?" said Hazel.

"It's not the Empire," said Owen. "Oz said we were alone down here. I think those are our guns; Sunstrider's guns. That's why we can hear them, even with the hatch closed."

"But who's firing them?" said Random. "Your computer is supposed to be shut down. Have you been keeping something from us, Deathstalker?"

"Oz, is that you?" Owen waited, but there was no reply. The guns suddenly stopped firing, and it was very quiet in the airlock. "I'm going to look outside," said Owen.

"Is this wise?" said Hazel. "After what happened the last time I opened the hatch?"

"The guns should have cleared some space around the ship," said Owen.

"And if they haven't?"

"I don't give a damn. Moon's out there. A Deathstalker doesn't abandon his people."

He hit the hatch controls before anyone could raise further objections, and they all turned their guns on the opening hatch. Crimson light spilled into the airlock again, along with the channel stench of the jungle. Even the light's the color of blood, thought Owen. What kind of place have I brought us to?

Everyone braced themselves against another invasion of bloodthirsty creatures, but all was still and quiet. The hatch ground to a halt at its furthest extension, and Owen peered wearily out. There were dead aliens everywhere, torn and tattered and piled up around the ship, but no signs of life or movement anywhere. The surrounding jungle was a mass of conflicting vibrant colors, predominately scarlet. The sky was mostly hidden by a thick canopy of branches overhead. There were huge towering trees and gushing vegetable shapes everywhere, all spines and barbs and overripe flowers. And then something moved among the heaps of the dead, and Owen snapped his gun to bear before he recognized who it was. It was Moon, standing at the side of the ship, hip deep in carnage, covered with alien blood and looking inordinately pleased with himself.

Owen jumped down from the airlock and made his way toward the Hadenman, clambering awkwardly over the heaps of bodies. The creatures ranged in size from gossamer insects the size of his hand to huge forms easily twenty feet long. None of them looked in very good shape. The ship's energy guns had torn them literally limb from limb. At such close range they never stood a chance, but Owen couldn't bring himself to feel any sympathy. The smell was appalling, and he did his best to breathe through his mouth. He reached the Hadenman, and Moon nodded to him calmly.

"About time I had a decent workout. I think I'm going to like it here."

"All right," said Owen. "What the hell happened out here?"

"I tapped into the ship's systems through my commlink, overrode the computers and took control of the fire systems. Then I had them blast everything that moved, while I sheltered among the bodies. Quite simple, really."

Owen looked at him. "That shouldn't have been possible. Even with Oz off-line, the security codes should have kept you out of the systems."

"I overrode them," said Moon. "It wasn't difficult. I'm a Hadenman."

"I didn't know you could do things like that."

"There are lots of things about me you don't know."

Owen didn't have any answer to that, so he turned and gestured for the others to come and join him. They made slow progress through the heaps of the dead, keeping a constant wary eye on the surrounding jungle. Owen didn't blame them. He could feel the pressure of uncounted unseen eyes following his every move. The ship's guns had taught the creatures caution, but there was no telling how long that would last.

"What did you say this hellhole was called?" said Hazel.

"Shandrakor," Owen said absently, still looking around him. "This is where my ancestor fled when the Empire turned on him and sent the Shadow Men after him."

"Who were they?" said Random, still trying to get his breath back after clambering over the bodies.

"No one knows anymore," said Owen. "People apparently didn't talk about them much back then, if they knew what was good for them. The Shadow Men were the Emperor's hounds: unstoppable, quite deadly and never once defeated. Basically, pretty nasty and proud of it. They tracked my ancestor here, to the very edge of the Empire, and then nothing more was heard of them or him. No one ever came back from Shandrakor, no matter how large a force the Emperor sent. Eventually he turned his face away from the planet, and Shandrakor was not spoken of by anyone. Its coordinates became lost, its nature forgotten, and the name Shandrakor only survived as the battlecry of my Clan. Even then, we walked our own path. For a long time now, Shandrakor has been nothing but a legend, hidden away out here on the very edge of the Rim. Forgotten by everyone save obsessive historians like myself. We're about as far from the Empire now as you can get without passing into the Darkvoid."

"Once I would have found that comforting," said Hazel, "but not anymore. This is a vicious place you've brought us to, Deathstalker. Humans don't belong here."

"I like it," said Ruby. "It's got style."

"We should head for the Standing while things are still quiet," said Random. "Do you have any force shields aboard, Owen?"

"Just a portable screen. It's got enough range to cover us all while we walk, but as I recall the power cells are pretty depleted."

"You're just full of good news, aren't you?" said Ruby. "Will it last long enough for us to reach the Standing?"

Owen shrugged unhappily. "Unknown. It's only half a mile, but who knows how long that'll take through this jungle. It might last, or it might cut out at any time."

Moon smiled. "Good. More exercise."

Owen gave him a hard look. He had an unnerving feeling the Hadenman meant it. What with him and Ruby Journey, Owen was beginning to feel decidedly outclassed. He was also beginning to feel like the only sane person in the group. "I'll get the screen, and then we'd better make a start. This ship is still going to explode eventually, and on top of that, we don't know how long the days are here. I have a strong feeling it would be a really bad idea for us to be lost in the jungle when darkness falls. I hate to think what kind of creatures go on the prowl during the night."

"Maybe everything just goes to sleep," said Hazel.

Owen raised an eyebrow. "Would you?"

The little light that did filter through the canopy was a dull brick red, as though the air itself was glowing from the rising heat of the day. Sweat poured off Owen as he cut a rough path through the close-set trees of the Shandrakor jungle. He could have just hung back and let the Hadenman do it. Moon didn't seem at all bothered by the heat, and his sword arm rose and fell as tirelessly as a machine. But Owen had his pride and insisted on taking his turn. He was beginning to feel like the weak link of the group. Everyone else was either an amazing fighter, a psychopath or a legend. Or any combination of the above. Owen was used to being the best there was. He'd been trained and raised to dominate any situation, to be the leader and inspiration of any group. But none of his aristocratic upbringing had prepared him for life as an outlaw on the run. So he ignored the heat and the sweat and his aching arm and persevered, hacking a path through the thick vegetation with his sword, and tried not to think what that was doing to the blade's edge.

Everyone else stayed close behind him. Ruby and Hazel carried their swords at the ready. Random had a gun in each hand. And the Hadenman brought up the rear, strolling coolly along as though this was nothing more than a pleasant walk in the park. Owen's mouth twitched grudgingly. For Moon, maybe it was. They all kept a careful eye on the surrounding jungle. They could hear things moving along with them, hidden from sight, keeping a respectful distance. The portable screen saw to that. It wasn't as powerful or impenetrable as a force shield, but its energy field established a perimeter around the group and administered a nasty shock to anything that tried to cross the line. The creatures learned quickly from the first few deaths, but still every now and again something would lurch suddenly forward from the dark between the trees to test the screen again. It happened just often enough to get on everyone's nerves and keep them jumpy, and their tempers were growing short. Innocent remarks took on insulting tones, with the result they stopped talking to each other for anything but the absolutely necessary, which suited Owen just fine. He didn't have the breath or the inclination for conversation, and he had a lot to think about.

There wasn't much about the original Deathstalker in the Family archives. A great fighter and better statesman, Warrior Prime to the Empire, and inventor of the Darkvoid Device: the enigmatic machine that put out a thousand suns in a moment, leaving their planets turning slowly in an unending night. The Darkvoid. The darkness beyond the Rim.

The Deathstalker took the device and all his notes with him when he fled, and when it 'disappeared along with him, everyone breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Nobody wanted that threat hanging over their heads all the time. It would have made the Emperor altogether too powerful. But there had been nothing in the archives to suggest what kind of man the Deathstalker had been. Brave, certainly; honorable, apparently; but what kind of man could have created a horror like the Darkvoid Device? And what happened to the friends, Family and supporters he'd left behind when he ran, left to the mercy of a furious Emperor? There was no record of what had happened to them, but Owen thought he could make a damn good guess.

So, assuming the Deathstalker was still held in stasis somewhere in the Last Standing, and assuming they could wake him, what would he be like? Would they be able to persuade him to join their rebellion against the Empire; an Empire probably very different from the one he remembered? And if he still had the Device, would they have the determination to use it again and cause the death of untold billions of innocents a second time… ?

Owen attacked the vegetation before him with new anger. His head was aching, and it wasn't just from the heat. The jungle stretched away before him, thick and dense and unforgiving. He would have liked to use his disrupter to blast open a path, but he didn't want to risk starting a fire. There was no telling how easily the trees would burn, or which way a wind might carry that fire, and it would be a pretty nasty and stupid way to die.

He didn't like the look of the trees. The trunks were four to five feet wide, with a dark red bark that was pitted and starred. The branches stirred unsettlingly, even when there was no hint of a breeze, and the crimson leaves were long and narrow, with razor-sharp serrations. Everyone had quickly learned to keep their hands to themselves. The colors of the remaining vegetation were bright and primal, solid yellows and blues and pinks, that clashed gaudily with the dominant scarlet. Either this planet hadn't discovered the benefits of camouflage or protective coloration, or it just didn't give a damn. Owen favored the latter explanation. Shandrakor didn't strike him as a particularly subtle planet. Up above him, he could hear things moving in the higher branches, keeping up with his party, but so far none of them had come down to check out the new intruders in their territory. Didn't stop them emptying their bowels all over the group, though. Owen was just grateful the screen protected their heads as well as their sides.

Out beyond the screen, the planet's creatures were getting on with their usual business of tearing each other into bloody pieces, and then eating as much as they could before something else jumped them. The din was appalling, with screams and roars and everything in between, but after a while it faded into the background. Owen supposed you could get used to anything eventually. He couldn't help wondering why the beasts of the jungle were keeping such a respectful distance. The screen and the disrupters had killed quite a few of them, but they hadn't struck Owen as being that smart. They should have just kept coming till they overwhelmed the party through sheer numbers, as they nearly had in the Sunstrider's airlock. Instead, they backed off and disappeared back into the jungle once the energy guns started firing. Almost as though they'd encountered such guns before and had learned the hard way to respect them. Which should have been impossible. Officially, no one from the Empire had visited Shandrakor in centuries. Mainly because no one knew where it was.

Unless the Empress knew, had known it all the time. A secret, perhaps, handed down from ruler to ruler, as something to be wary of and watch over. It made sense. Owen couldn't see any Emperor choosing to forget the location of the most powerful weapon ever invented. So, could Imperial troops have gotten to Shandrakor before the Sunstrider did? Owen scowled. It didn't seem likely, but he couldn't rule it out, either. If that was the case, things had just gotten a lot more complicated. It didn't mean everything was lost. He had the exact location of the Last Standing, thanks to the files his father had hidden in Ozymandius' memory. Unless the Empire had already been here for some time, searching… Owen cut viciously at the vegetation before him. Nothing was ever simple anymore.

Something huge howled in agony as it was brought down by something even bigger not too far away. The ground shuddered under its weight, and he looked quickly about him. The force screen would keep out most things, but he didn't know for sure whether it could stand up to something really large just dropping on it with all its weight. The screen might just overload and collapse. Great, thought Owen. Something else to worry about. The creatures were definitely edging closer again. Either they were getting over their fear of the screen and the guns, or they just didn't care.

"Take a break," Hazel said behind him, and Owen gratefully came to a halt. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and looked back at the rest of his party. Hazel looked almost as shattered as he felt. Ruby Journey was breathing hard, but her back was still straight and her head erect. Jack Random had taken the opportunity to sit down, ignoring the insects swarming around him. He sat with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging down, and sweat dripped from his face onto the ground, where the insects fought over it. Moon looked perfectly calm and collected, as though he could walk for miles yet. Owen hated him on general principles. Something large and blocky leapt out of the trees at them, then howled angrily as it hit the screen. It struggled against the energy field for a long moment, ignoring the shocks, but finally fell back, defeated. Owen couldn't help noticing that it was taking longer all the time for the screen to have an effect. Either the field was weakening, or the creatures were getting stronger and more determined. Owen knew which was the most likely, but he was too tired to care. He sat down, and after a moment, Hazel and Ruby joined him.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before, Hazel?" said Owen quietly.

"There's a couple of cities on Loki that are almost as dangerous to walk through, but no, I've never come across anything as unrelentingly lethal as this. I mean, don't they ever stop eating? You'd think they'd run out of prey at this rate. Surely they must stop sometime, if only to sleep and digest."

"Maybe they're working shifts," Owen suggested, and Hazel managed a small smile.

"You're the one with the built-in compass. How much further to the Standing?"

"At least a quarter of a mile. We're barely halfway there."

"Is that all?" Hazel shook her head wearily. "It seems like I've been slogging through this jungle forever. Any more bad news you'd like to share with me?"

"We're draining the crystals in our guns, the screen isn't holding up as well as I'd hoped, and it's getting hotter. I don't think we've even reached midday yet. I hate this place."

"Oh, good," said Hazel. "Something more to worry about. I don't know why I ever saved you, Deathstalker. You're a bloody jinx to be around, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. You keep telling me. You should be grateful to me for bringing a little adventure into your life. Would you rather be stuck in an office all day, staring into a monitor screen?"

"Frankly, yes."

"Come on, we'd better start moving again." Owen tried to force some confidence into his voice. "Only a quarter of a mile to go."

"Wait a bit longer," said Jack Random. "If we wear ourselves out too quickly, we'll never get there. We have to pace ourselves." Owen looked at him, surprised. The old rebel sounded much fresher and stronger than he had. Random saw the look and grinned easily. "I've done this before, lad. Couldn't tell you how many jungles on how many planets I've hacked my way through in my time. You have to learn to spread your strength, so it's there to be called on when you need it. Don't worry about the screen and the guns. Either they'll hold out, or they won't, and either way there's nothing you can do about it. Save your energy for problems you can solve. Like making sure the path you're cutting is as straight as you can get it. Even a mild curve could put us miles off course."

"I'm watching the compass," said Owen. "We're dead on course. Listen, if you've got any other wisdom to offer, don't be shy about sharing it. I'm new to all this, and I'll take all the help I can get."

"Good attitude, for a leader," Random said approvingly. "You're doing fine, Deaths talker. Lead from the front and we'll follow."

"Speak for yourself," said Ruby Journey. "I wouldn't trust that inbred aristo to lead sheep to slaughter."

"Interesting choice of phrase, my dear," said Random. "Perhaps you'd care to modify it, given our current position?"

"No, I wouldn't. And I'm not your dear."

"That's for sure," said Hazel. "You've never been anybody's dear."

"I've never been anybody's fool, either." Ruby glared at them all impartially. "I should never have let you talk me into this. I could have made a perfectly good fortune just handing you over to the authorities. Instead, I'm stuck in the middle of a bloody jungle, light-years from anywhere halfway civilized, with no provisions and no bloody ship. I should have shot you all on sight."

"You did try," said Owen.

"You wouldn't shoot me, Ruby," Hazel said briskly. "I'm your friend."

Ruby looked at her. "The rewards on all your heads would buy me a lot of friends."

"Not the kind that matter," said Random. "It's a lonely place, this Empire, without friends to watch your back."

"Friends are a luxury," said Ruby coldly. "Like faith, politics and family. They always let you down, in the end. The only person you can ever really trust is yourself. I'd have thought you'd have known that, after all the times you got your ass kicked by the Empire. Your great rebellion is over, Random."

"It's not over till I say it's over," said Random. "As long as I refuse to give up, they haven't beaten me. The strength of rebellion lies in the heart, not in armies."

"Nice sentiment," said Ruby. "I'm sure they'll put it on your tombstone."

"Thank you, Ruby," said Random, smiling charmingly. "That's very good of you. Time to get moving again, Deathstalker. If we've got the energy to argue, we're rested enough to start up again."

He rose easily to his feet, looking calm and relaxed and ready to go. Owen was surprised to find he'd gotten his second wind while they were talking and got to his feet with only minor winces. He put out a hand to Hazel, who ignored it and got up unaided. Owen didn't even try to offer his hand to Ruby. The bounty hunter rose up as lithely and effortlessly as she'd sat down, her face cold and calm and untouched by any trace of passion. Owen smiled, hefted his sword thoughtfully, and turned back to the vegetation blocking his trail. If he had to be stranded on an unfriendly world, he was glad he was accompanied by fighters, not quitters. He was especially pleased to see Jack Random coming to life again. This was more like the legendary rebel he'd heard so much about.

Ruby moved up alongside to help. Owen wasn't too happy about having the bounty hunter that close to him with a naked blade in her hands. She made him nervous. She had the cold poise of an Investigator, and the unrelenting malice to go with it. Owen had absolutely no doubt that she would have killed him in a second back on Mistworld if Hazel hadn't intervened. He was also pretty damn sure she'd turn on him in a moment if she decided it was in her best interests to do so. She'd have made a good aristocrat. He kept a watchful eye on her until she decided they'd made enough ground, then dropped back to walk with the others. Owen breathed a little more easily, though his back still prickled just a little. After a moment, Hazel moved up beside him.

"What's the problem between you and Ruby?" she said bluntly.

"Don't know what you mean," said Owen.

"Come off it. I saw you shooting suspicious looks at her in what you obviously thought was an unobtrusive manner. Don't you trust her?"

"Of course not. She's a bounty hunter, and I'm bounty."

"We're all outlaws together now, aristo."

"Some of us are more outlaws than others."

"She's my friend," said Hazel coldly. "She gave me her word. You can trust her as you trust me."

"Exactly," said Owen.

Hazel had to think about that for a moment, and then glared at him and fell back to join the others, scowling heavily. Owen sighed and took out his spleen on the helpless vegetation before him. It didn't help much. He liked Hazel. He admired her courage and her forthright manner, but they couldn't seem to exchange two words without arguing. Jack Random came forward to walk at his side, and they cut trail together in silence for a while, the only sound the solid chunk of steel cutting through vegetation.

"A word of advice," Jack said finally. "Never win an argument with a woman. They'll forgive anything but that."

"But I was right."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"We're making good time," Owen said determinedly. "Would you like to take over the lead for a while?"

"No thanks. In my experience, the point man has the most dangerous job. You're welcome to it."

"You should be leading this party anyway. I mean, you're Jack Random."

"I used to be, and given time I might be again. But for the moment I'm just a tired old man pulled out of retirement for one last fight. I've got a long way to go before I'm competent to lead anything but a suicide charge. You carry on, lad. You're doing a good job as leader."

"Am I? Hazel and I spit at each other like cats, Moon worries the hell out of me, and I daren't turn my back on Ruby."

"And you're holding them all together. You give them purpose and point them in the right direction. That's all anyone really has the right to expect of a leader. I should know."

He grinned easily at Owen, clapped him once on the shoulder and dropped back to the others. Owen wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve and stood a little straighter. If Jack Random said he was doing a good job, he must be. He was still getting used to the idea when Moon appeared suddenly at his side.

"I have a question for you, Deathstalker. How are you going to get me to Haden when you don't have a ship anymore? You said you'd get me there. You gave me your word."

"I'll get you there."

"How?"

"I'm working on it!"

Moon nodded and fell back to join the others, leaving Owen by himself. He growled not completely under his breath, and hacked at a web of hanging creepers. He felt he could use a little time to himself. For some reason, the creatures surrounding the party seemed to be showing them a lot more respect. Owen found that suspicious, but he could live with that.

Sometime later, the jungle fell suddenly away before them, to reveal a large clearing with a huge stone castle in its center. Owen raised an arm to protect his eyes from the direct glare of the sun. The heat was almost blistering away from the protection of the jungle canopy, but he held his ground. He'd come a long way to be here, and besides, it felt good not to have to worry about which direction an attack might come from next. The creatures of the jungle were always there, close at hand, watching and following. Owen's back ached from the constant tension and anticipation of an attack. He lowered his sword and leaned on it gratefully as he studied the castle in the clearing.

It was a huge structure, rising up high enough to hide the jungle behind it, and composed of uncomfortably large blocks of dull gray stone. There were tall thin towers with pointed roofs and crenellated battlements. There was no sign of any activity, or any light at any of the small slit windows, and the single great door was closed. And on top of all that, the whole castle seemed slightly out of focus, seen through the faint shimmer of the force shield that surrounded it. For a long time nobody said anything. Owen looked up at the sky. The sun was bloodred and sinking down toward the tops of the trees. Not long now till night, and whatever new creatures prowled in it.

"So that's the Last Standing of your ancestor, Owen," said Hazel. "I'm impressed. How the hell did he manage to build something like that on a planet like this?"

"It wasn't exactly what I was expecting," Owen admitted. "He must have had help of some kind."

"Right," said Random. "In case you hadn't noticed, the boundaries of this clearing are extremely distinct. Which suggests it was probably cut using energy weapons. Still doesn't explain where he found all that stone, though."

"Must have a quarry somewhere," said Owen.

"Then who worked in it?"

They stared at the castle in silence for a while.

"The force shield's another complication I wasn't expecting," said Owen. "The only way to lower a shield like that is from the inside, and we've no guarantee there's any living soul left in there. Since the shield's still up, I think we can safely assume there's some degree of automation. Computers running things on a low priority basis."

"Must have an amazing power source in there," said Hazel, "to be still running things after all these years."

"Unless somebody else got here first," said Ruby.

They all considered that.

"The beasts of the jungle acted like they'd encountered energy weapons before," said Moon. "And they stopped bothering us the closer we got to the castle and the clearing. If the Empire got here first…"

"Then we're in real trouble," said Random.

"Nothing could beat my ship here," said Owen.

"Only one way to find out," said Ruby, and she stepped out into the clearing, gun in one hand, sword in the other. Two bright glows appeared in windows on either side of the great door. Hazel threw herself at Ruby and knocked her to the ground, and two disrupter beams flashed through the air where she'd been standing and incinerated the trees behind her. They burned fiercely for a moment, and then the flames died down and flickered out. The charred wood smoked gently.

"Tough trees," said Moon.

"Like everything else on this planet," said Owen. "You girls all right?"

"We are not girls," said Hazel.

"That's for sure," said Random.

Hazel dragged Ruby back into the shelter of the trees and helped her to her feet. Ruby didn't even nod her thanks, her cold eyes fixed on the castle. The two glows on either side of the door were still there. Ruby raised her gun and then lowered it again.

"Top of the line force shield," said Owen. "Lets energy beams out without having to drop the field first. Must use a hell of a lot of power to cover something that large. Certainly we haven't got any weapon that'll bother it."

"I think we can safely assume that whoever's in there, they're not feeling friendly," said Hazel, brushing grass and insects from her clothes.

"I don't know," said Random. "Those had the feel of warning shots. A computerized defense system would have tracked you no matter how fast you moved and kept on firing till it was sure its target had been eliminated."

"So what do we do next?" said Hazel. "Apart from suicide tactics." She glared at Ruby, who was still ignoring her.

"Communicate," said Moon. "People or machines, they might respond to contact."

"It might also give them something to aim their guns at," said Hazel.

"She has a point," said Random.

"We can't just stand around here," said Owen. "In case you've forgotten, we've nowhere else to go, except the castle. Either we find a way in, or we live in the jungle. Which doesn't exactly appeal to me. I'm going to go out there unarmed and talk to them. If those are my ancestor's computers, they might react to me. I am a Deathstalker, after all."

"You go right ahead," said Hazel. "Personally, I'm going to find something large to hide behind."

Owen smiled and couldn't he]p noticing she didn't make a move as he stepped cautiously out into the clearing. He put away his gun and his sword, and held up his hands to show they were empty. He cleared his throat carefully. He didn't want to be misunderstood.

"I am Owen, first of Clan Deathstalker. I come to you in need and danger and call upon you for sanctuary. I bear my Family's ring."

He held the hand forward, so that the castle sensors could get a clear look at it. Sweat was running down his face again, and it wasn't from the blazing heat of the open clearing. A light appeared in another window, and he had to fight not to flinch. And then all the lights went out, and the force shield snapped off just in front of the door, leaving a clear tunnel open in the shield. Owen blinked and looked back at the others.

"I think that's an invitation. Let's move it, before they change their minds. And people, put away your weapons."

The rest of the party emerged cautiously from the edge of the jungle and took in the break in the force shield as they reluctantly sheathed their weapons.

"That is not possible," said Random. "You can't just lower part of a force shield like that. The field would collapse."

"Impossible or not, it's there," said Hazel. "May I suggest we use it before it disappears and leaves us stranded here?"

"Of course," said Owen. "After you."

"It's your Family and your castle," Hazel said firmly. "After you."

Owen smiled briefly and walked out into the clearing. He could feel the presence of the force field on either side of him, so close he could have reached out his arms and touched it. Little runs of static moved in his clothes and sparked in his hair. He took a deep breath and kept walking. He could hear the others moving close behind him, but he didn't turn to look. It might make him appear nervous, and he had a feeling this would be a bad time to appear to be weak. The castle grew bigger the closer he got to it, until it was looming over him like a mountain. The sheer scale of the place, and the massive size of the stone blocks, made his head ache. He couldn't imagine the army of people and technology it must have taken to build the Last Standing, starting from scratch on a new planet. There were still no lights at any of the windows, no sign of life. He still had the feeling he was being watched. He finally came to a halt before the only door and stared at it thoughtfully: ten feet tall, six feet wide, solid wood studded with some kind of crimson metal, like drops of blood. A disrupter would probably tear right through it, but it looked like it would stop anything else. The others crowded in around him.

"What do we do now?" said Ruby.

"Knock," said Random. "Very politely."

"We may have to," said Owen. "There's no handle, or any sensor I can see."

"Probably doesn't get many visitors out here," said Random.

"I don't want to worry anyone," said Hazel quietly, "but the force field has reestablished itself behind us. We're trapped."

"For someone who didn't want to worry us, I'd say you've managed very well," said Owen.

"I could break the door down," said Moon in his grating inhuman voice.

"Thanks for the thought, but no," said Owen. "The last thing we want to do right now is make a bad impression. Those energy guns are probably still trained on us, and I don't want whoever's behind them feeling nervous. If you want to be useful, Moon, try talking to the castle. If there are computers inside the Standing, you might be able to communicate with them."

Moon nodded and frowned slightly, concentrating. In that moment, much of the humanity went out of the Hadenman's face, dominated by the blazing golden eyes, and Owen fought down a sudden impulse to shiver. Moon's face cleared, and he looked at Owen. "Nothing. If there are any computers in there, either they're not listening or they're not talking."

"Show your ring to the sensors again," said Hazel. "That got a response last time."

Owen lifted his hand and showed it a little selfconsciously to the windows above the door. No light showed, and he'd started to lower his hand again when suddenly he was somewhere else…There was no warning, or sense of transition; one moment he was standing before the door and the next he was in a great hall, presumably inside the Standing. It stretched away before him, incredibly long and wide, and completely deserted. An army could have drilled in the hall, or a full Clan gathering could have danced in it, but there was no sign of any life save for the lights shining overhead. There was no fire in the great marble fireplace, but the floor had been recently waxed and polished, and there was no trace of dust anywhere. The others were suddenly in the hall with him, looking almost as confused as he felt.

"What the hell just happened?" said Hazel, one hand dropping to the gun at her side.

"Transfer portal," said Owen. "I've heard about them, but never expected to encounter a working one. They were created centuries ago; instant teleportation between two places to save the aristocracy the bother of actually having to travel from one place to another. They never caught on because of the massive amounts of power involved, and because they were a security nightmare. Then espers came in and replaced them. No power sources required, and a damn sight cheaper to run. The Empire's always had a fondness for slave labor over machinery. This place must have a hell of a power source hidden away somewhere, if it can still operate a transfer portal after all this time."

"Nine hundred and forty years," said Random. "Whoever built this Standing built it to last."

"I've just had a really nasty thought," Hazel said quietly. "If this place is being run by computers; could it have been taken over by the AIs from Snub? They're supposed to have all kinds of technology that we don't."

"You're right," said Owen. "That is a nasty thought. If you have any more like that, feel free to keep them to yourself. Things are tricky enough as it is without us getting paranoid. We're a long way from Shub, and the last I heard, the Enemies of Humanity were safely tucked away behind an Imperial blockade. Let's all please concentrate on the matter at hand."

"You got us in here, Deathstalker," said Ruby. "What say you lead us to this ancestor of yours? I've got a few questions I wouldn't mind putting to him."

"All right," said Owen, trying hard to sound confident. "Follow me."

He strode off down the great hall, the echoes of his footsteps sounding loud and flat in the silence. The others moved quickly after him, not wanting to be left behind, trying very hard to look casual and unimpressed. Owen allowed his hand to rest quietly near his gun. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to find at his ancestor's legendary Last Standing, but this wasn't it. This immense castle wasn't the last refuge of a desperate man, driven and harried to a planet light-years from civilization. This was a power base, designed for survival against overwhelming odds; a place to strike back from. But he never had. He had all this power at his command, but instead he chose to hide himself away in stasis, waiting for an awakening that never came. Owen frowned. Presumably the Empire had been just as overwhelming an enemy then as it was now, but Owen had a strong feeling he didn't have anything like the whole story. He strode on, trying to look confident and unthreatening at the same time. He didn't want to appear a threat. He was pretty damn sure the Standing had just as many security measures inside as it did outside.

He reached the other end of the hall without incident, stepped through the open door and found himself somewhere else, completely unconnected to the hall. He'd just passed through another transfer portal. It didn't take Owen and the rest of his party long to discover two important things about the portals. One, Every door in the castle was a portal leading somewhere unexpected, and two, you couldn't go back through the door to wherever you'd just come from. And so the party jumped blindly from room to room, passing ever deeper into the depths of the Last Standing. Owen kept himself oriented with his internal compass, but he had no way of knowing exactly where in the castle he was at any given time. Or how to get out of it. All the rooms were perfectly clean and brightly lit, but with nothing to show they had ever been lived in. Owen became increasingly convinced that they were being watched at all times, but couldn't spot anything that might have been a sensor. Whoever was controlling the portals apparently had some destination in mind, but where and why remained a mystery.

Owen kept walking and tried very hard to be patient. He had a strong suspicion that even if he had felt like being awkward, it wouldn't have made any difference. He was in someone else's hands now, for better or worse. He tried to keep his hand near his gun without being too obvious about it. They passed through room after room, all of them devoid of interest or personality. No fixtures or fittings, no comforts of any kind. Owen became increasingly convinced that no one had ever lived in the castle.

Until finally they came to what Owen immediately thought of as a trophy room. Unlike the other rooms, this one was of a more comfortable size, though its contents were anything but comforting. A large glass case took up the center of the room, some ten feet square. And in that case, like trophies on display, stood three men in outdated battle armor. They were so still that Owen first thought they were models of some kind, but when he moved forward and pressed his nose against the glass, he quickly became convinced they were real. Their poses were stiff, their faces were blank, and there were bloody holes in their armor.

"They're dead, aren't they?" Hazel said finally. "I thought at first they were in stasis, but there's no trace of any equipment."

"They're preserved in some way," said Random. "I'd kill for a closer look at them."

"No problem," said Moon, and smashed one of the glass sides with his fist.

Owen whirled around, gun in hand, every muscle tensed for an attack that never came. He slowly relaxed and turned back to the Hadenman.

"Moon, if I wanted a heart attack, I'd play Russian roulette with a fully-charged disrupter. Don't do anything else without checking with me first. You could have set off some kind of security system."

"We need information," said Moon, entirely unfazed by the anger in Owen's voice. He stepped through the wreckage of the glass wall, splinters crunching under his boots, and studied the figures closely. Random moved in quickly after him, followed by Hazel and Ruby. Owen decided he wasn't doing any good just standing outside on his own, shook his head resignedly and entered the glass case himself. Up close, the three figures looked even more disturbing. Moon prodded one with his finger, and it rocked gently on its feet.

"What the hell are they?" said Hazel quietly, as though afraid they might hear her. "It's not stasis, whatever it is."

"They're preserved," said Moon. "They died, violently according to the evidence, and then their insides were removed, and some kind of preservative material was pumped inside them."

"How can you tell?" said Random, sounding more intrigued than anything else.

"I can smell the chemicals," said Moon. "And there are telltale signs in the skin, if you know what to look for."

Owen decided not to ask how the Hadenman knew which signs to look for. He didn't think he really wanted to know.

"Who do you suppose they were?" said Ruby.

"According to the Family histories," Owen said slowly, "my ancestor, the original Deathstalker, was pursued here by three of the greatest mercenary assassins of their time: the infamous Shadow Men. They were never heard of again. Apparently they did catch up with their prey after all."

You mean he killed them, and then had them preserved and mounted as trophies?" Hazel pulled a face. "Nasty sense of humor your ancestor had, Owen. Or was this usual, for the time?"

"No," said Owen. "No, it wasn't."

They left the shattered case and moved on, heading still deeper into the Standing. They all had a gun or a sword in their hands now. The emptiness of the rooms seemed somehow significant, even threatening. It was like walking through a gigantic trap, waiting for the punchline. Mechanical drones appeared from time to time, silent mechanisms of varying size, gliding through the empty rooms on unknown missions. They ignored the human intruders, who in turn gave the drones plenty of room. They varied in shape from simple spheres that rolled along the spotless floors to disturbingly human forms that tapped through the rooms on pointed toes, inhumanly graceful. Owen was frowning so much by now that his head ached, but he couldn't help it. No one made machines in the shape of men anymore. Not after the AI rebellion. So these androids had been here for more than nine hundred years, following programs laid down centuries before. No one now could make machines to last that long. It was a forgotten art. First the portals, now this. What other forgotten secrets were waiting for them in the heart of the Last Standing?

They pressed on, moving cautiously now, blinking in and out of existence from room to room, and found themselves in a hall of mirrors. The mirrors stretched from floor to ceiling, forming a maze with no apparent pattern. They moved constantly, turning and twisting, light shimmering from every direction. There were reflections upon reflections, images within images. They merged and blended, and some reflections seemed to be moving independently of the people who cast them. Owen moved slowly forward, drifting between the mirrors, following hints and whispers and beckoning figures. He thought he saw his father, and his long-lost mother, and other faces from his past, and then himself, grown old and feeble. He saw himself at his wedding, beside a veiled bride, and then fighting alone on a bloody battlefield littered with the dead. He moved on, drawn by a need to see, to know more, and then Hazel was suddenly beside him, her hand on his arm.

"Come away, Owen. It's not safe here. They're a trap; they show you what you want to see. Come away."

Owen allowed her to tug him away, and the party stayed close together until they made it through the hall of mirrors and out the other side. They'd all seen something in the mirrors they didn't want to share with anyone else. They stepped into the next portal and vanished, and if their images remained for a time in the mirrors, they never knew.

Owen stepped out of the transfer portal and found himself in a world of ice. Three inches of snow covered the floor, long icicles hung down from the high ceiling and thick hoarfrost made whorled patterns on the walls. It was bitterly cold, and Owen shuddered convulsively. He pulled his cloak tightly about him, folded his arms across his chest and watched his breath steam on the air as he tried to stop shivering. The others appeared behind him, and they all huddled together for warmth. Except Moon, who didn't seem at all bothered.

Owen's thoughts slowly returned to him, having been driven aside for a moment by the sudden shock of the cold, and he looked about him. The air was crisp and sharp, with only a slight haze of mist. The room wasn't all that large, compared to some of the rooms he'd walked through to get here, but it gave the impression of great size, as though the walls were not strong enough to contain everything the room held. In the middle of the room a bright shimmering light shone from the floor to the ceiling, a silver pillar of illumination, and in that pillar was a man, standing unnaturally still, held in the light like a butterfly transfixed on a pin.

Owen walked slowly forward, impelled by an impulse that was half curiosity and half awe. The snow crunched loudly under his boots, and he realized he was the first person to break the surface of the snow since it had first fallen, some nine hundred years earlier. He felt in a strange way as though he had stepped back in time when he entered this room, stepped into an earlier age when the Empire was still fresh and new, the product of great men and women, carved from the unfeeling emptiness of space with courage and audacity. There were heroes and villains in those days, when events were larger than life and everything had the stamp of greatness. Giants walked the stage of Empire then, and this was one of them. Owen stopped just short of the silver pillar and studied the man within.

He was as tall as Owen, but sparsely built, though his arms were curved with muscle. He looked to be in his early fifties, with a solid, lined face, a silver-gray goatee, and long gray hair held back in a scalplock. He wore a set of battered and shapeless furs, held in at the waist with a wide leather belt. His leather boots were starting to come apart at the stitching. He wore thick golden armlets and heavy metal rings on his fingers. He carried a long sword in a leather scabbard hanging down his back, and a gun of unfamiliar design hung on his hip. Overall, he gave an impression of strength at rest, and with his eyes closed he looked only as though he was thinking for a moment and might at any time open his eyes and look around.

"So that's him," said Hazel, and Owen jumped despite himself. He hadn't heard her move up alongside him. The others gathered around the silver pillar of light, giving it plenty of room, just in case. They seemed impressed by the morn, if not the man. Owen found himself thinking of an insect caught in amber.

"This is him," he said finally, careful to keep his voice calm and even. "The Deathstalker. The original Deathstalker, founder of my Clan. We still sing songs about his valor and his exploits, though the Empire banned them long ago. He's been here over nine hundred years, waiting for someone to come for him. Waiting, while the wheel turned and the Empire moved on without him."

"He doesn't look like much," said Ruby. "I could take him."

"Are we really going to wake him?" said Random. "He's been asleep a long time, and things have changed. He might find it very difficult to adapt."

"He was a warrior," said Owen. "And some things haven't changed at all. Family. Loyalty. Betrayal. I think he'll fit in quite well. Besides, we need him."

"You're right," said Hazel. "Some things haven't changed at all."

Owen started to answer her, and then stopped. She was as much right as she was wrong. He stepped forward and thrust his hand bearing his father's ring into the shimmering silver column. The light blazed up blindingly, and Owen had to turn his head away. He tried to fall back from it, but his hand was held firmly in the light. A slow rumble of power filled the chamber, as though ancient engines were awakening to life again. The floor shook, and icicles broke off from the ceiling, plunging down like swords. Then the silver light snapped off, gone so suddenly it was as though it had never been there. Owen looked back at his ancestor, standing there before him. The man's chest rose and fell slowly, and then he lifted his head and opened his eyes. They were a surprisingly mild gray, but his gaze was firm and direct. He studied Owen for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I don't know you, but you bear my ring." His voice was calm and assured, the voice of a man accustomed to power. "Are you Family, boy?"

"Yes, sir. I am Owen Deathstalker, your descendant. I am first of the Clan, though the present Empress has tried to strip that from me and declared me outlaw. I need your help, kinsman. The Empire has turned on me, as it did on you. It is time to take up the sword again."

"Maybe," said the Deathstalker. "How long have I slept?"

"Nine hundred and forty-three years, kinsman."

"Have things changed much since my day?"

"Surprisingly little, kinsman. The essentials are still the same. I've studied the Empire's past. I'm a historian."

The older man gave Owen a hard look. "What kind of occupation is that for a Deathstalker? What campaigns have you fought in? How many wars?"

"None, actually," said Owen. "I'm not really the warrior type."

The Deathstalker shook his head slowly. "I've been gone too long. The blood's grown thin. Let's get out of here, boy. Too damn cold here for my liking. Reminds me of the grave. You can bring me up to date as we go. And call me Giles. It was my name long before I gave my Clan the name Deathstalker."

He headed for the door, giving the others just enough time to get out of the way. Owen hurried after him, and the others scrambled to keep up with them.

"Historian," Giles said thoughtfully. 'Tell me, how much has science advanced in my absence? Are you still using disrupters?"

"Yes, sir. The Empire has kept a careful control on science and progress down the centuries. This helps to keep things stable and reserves what advances are made for the ruling classes. Just another way to keep power. We still use disrupters. Recharge is down to two minutes now."

Giles sniffed. "I suppose that's an improvement. Energy guns. Flashy things. Powerful but limited. Projectile weapons are much more versatile, but they were already being phased out of the Empire when I had to leave in a hurry. The aristocracy wanted them stamped out. Too easy to make, too easy to use, and far too much power to be left in the hands of the lower classes. Energy weapons are difficult to make and very expensive. So, they replace projectile guns, and the only effective weapons end up the property of the ruling classes and their enforcers. Good thinking. But I never believed in it, so I never went along with it. Which is at least partly why I ended up here."

He stopped before the portal, snapped "Armory!" and then stepped through and vanished. Owen looked at the others.

"Well, what do you think? Do we follow him?"

"He's your ancestor," said Haze. "Can we trust him?"

"I don't know. He's not what I expected."

"Put it this way," said Random. "What other choice do we have? We can't even find our way out of this place without him."

He stepped through the transfer portal, and the others followed him. There was the usual sudden shift from one view to another, and then Owen stopped dead in his tracks and looked about him. He was in another great hall, stretching away before him for as far as he could see, but here the walls were covered with more kinds of weapons than he'd ever seen in his life. There were handguns and rifles of all shapes and sizes, including several it would have taken two men to carry. None of them looked to be energy guns.

"What the hell are they?" whispered Hazel beside him.

"Projectile weapons," said Owen. "I've seen some of these in the older archive records. They were effective and efficient, but no damn use at all against force shields. They were also no match for the range and accuracy of energy guns. That's why the old style of weapon was replaced by the new. Officially."

"Shot for shot they were right," said Giles. "A disrupter can outperform any projectile weapon. But on the other hand, they don't have to stop and recharge between shots for two minutes. You can fire over and over again, as long as your ammunition holds out. You'd be surprised how much damage you can do when you're firing a thousand rounds a second. I have a gun here for every occasion, small and large. There are weapons here that can assassinate a single man in a crowd from up to two miles away, and others that could take out a whole town."

"Unless they have force shields," said Owen.

Giles grinned at him. "That's better, boy. At least you can think like a warrior. Force shields are fine, but they also have a built-in limitation: they only last as long as their energy crystals hold out. Once they've been drained by constant use, it takes forever to recharge them. So all you have to do is maintain a steady stream of fire, wait for the shields to go down, and then charge right in." He gestured grandly at the others. "Take a look around. See if there's something here that takes your fancy. You stay with me, boy." He waited for the others to move away, and then turned to Owen and lowered his voice. "Fill me in. How big is your army? How many men am I going to have to supply guns for?"

Owen looked at him blankly for a moment. "I don't actually have an army, sir. There's just myself, and my associates here. Our ship crashed not far from here. It's a wreck. We're all there is, sir."

Giles pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "Deathstalker luck. Always bad. Fortunately for you, boy, I have a ship. How big a force have you got on your tail? I assume the Empire was right behind you when you jumped to come here?"

"Yes, sir. Two Imperial starcruisers."

Giles looked at him with a certain amount of respect for the first time. "Now that's more like it. Don't worry, we'll be gone long before they can get here. Tell me about your friends. Are they good fighters? Reliable?"

"The best. Hazel d'Ark's a pirate and clonelegger. Ruby Journey's a bounty hunter, Jack Random's a professional rebel, and the disturbing-looking one is Tobias Moon. He's an augmented man."

"A cyborg? They were still trying to make that work when I left. Is he any good in a fight?"

Owen grinned. "Moon kicks ass. Anybody's ass. But I wouldn't turn your back on him too often. Augmented men often have their own agendas. And all of my people are good fighters."

"Can I depend on them? Will they follow orders?"

"Maybe. After all, they're outlaws, like me. And like you. Convince them that it's in their best interests to work with you, and they will. But don't just give them orders and expect them to snap to attention. They don't have much love or respect for authority in general and aristos in particular. But they're good people. Mostly."

"And what about you, Owen Deathstalker the historian? Can you fight?"

"I do all right," Owen said steadily. "I've been trained by the best, and I have the boost. I can take care of myself."

"The boost? That's another thing they were trying to make work when I left. You're full of surprises, kinsman. Unfortunately, I now have one for you. According to my computers, an Imperial starship has just dropped into orbit around Shandrakor. The Standing's shielded from their sensors, unless they've radically improved since my day, but your wrecked ship isn't. It won't take them long to spot it and send some heavily armed people down to check for survivors. I've downloaded your AI into my systems; pretty sophisticated, but not half as smart as it thinks it is."

"Oz!" said Owen. "Are you there?"

"Where else would I be?" said Ozymandius. "You should see the antiquated system they've dumped me in. Wouldn't surprise me if this junk ran on steam power. Give me a week or two and I'll be running things around here."

"Behave yourself. We're guests here. We'll talk later. For now, keep your eyes and ears open and make yourself useful."

"Got it."

Owen looked at Giles. "He's been with me a long time. He's a pain in the ass, but he's good at what he does."

"I heard that!"

"Shut up, Oz."

"Tell me, Owen," said Giles. "Why did you come here looking for me?"

"My only hope for survival is to mount a rebellion against the Empress. And for that I need the Darkvoid Device." With Giles' eyes boring into his, it never even occurred to Owen to lie. "Do you still have it?"

"No. But I know where it is. I only ever used it once, and a thousand stars blinked out in a moment, leaving nothing but darkness. The Darkvoid. Thousands of inhabited planets were left without suns; billions upon billions of people died. That's a lot of ghosts for one man to live with. I'd done many questionable things in my time as Warrior Prime, and come to terms with them, but that was too much, even for me.

"I'd sworn an oath to protect and preserve the Empire, not destroy it piece by piece for the pleasure of others. I created the Device almost by accident, while working on something else. I was the only one who could operate it. That made it my responsibility. So I did the only responsible thing left to me: I took the Device and ran. Hid myself here, where no one would ever find me except Family. And just as a safeguard, I stashed the Device somewhere else. I left it in the heart of the Madness Maze on the cold corpse of the Wolfling World, deep in the Darkvoid."

Owen looked at him for a long moment, searching for something to say. The Wolflings were a part of legend: the first genetically-engineered human beings. They were supposed to be living killing machines, the perfect soldiers, but unfortunately the Empire did its work too well. The Wolflings were unbeatable. The Empire grew scared of what it had created and wiped out the Wolflings while they were still trapped on their planet. It was lost to history when it became part of the Darkvoid. No wonder no one had ever found the Device, if it was hidden there. Few ships had ever crossed the Rim into the Darkvoid and come back to tell of it.

"We need the Device," he said finally. "Our rebellion hasn't a hope in hell without it."

Giles looked at him steadily. "And is your rebellion really so important?"

"You've been asleep a long time," said Hazel, suddenly there beside them. "You don't know how bad things have got. If you're rich or an aristo or connected, you can have anything, do anything, and no one can stop you. You can destroy lives, and no one can make you pay."

"They use and discard us," said Moon. "And no one cares."

"I've fought the Empire all my adult life," said Jack Random. "Fought and bled on a hundred worlds, only to see my war for truth and justice come to nothing. They have the ships and the weapons and the armies, and all we have is right on our side. It's not enough."

Giles looked at Ruby Journey. She was standing quietly at the back, arms folded. She looked bored. "What about you, bounty hunter? Don't you have anything to say to me? No appeals to my better nature?"

Ruby looked at him calmly. "I made a good living hunting down the Empire's enemies. Outlaws. Now I am one. Funny how things change."

"What changed you?"

Ruby smiled. "Hazel's my friend. She hasn't the sense to come in out of the rain, but sometimes the rain follows you no matter where you go. The Empire wants her dead, I want her alive. So to hell with the Empire. Besides, I was promised as much loot as I can carry if we win, and you'd be surprised how much I can carry when I put my mind to it."

Hazel smiled at her. "Ruby. I never knew you cared so much."

"Don't get cocky. If the reward on you had been just a little higher, things might have turned out differently."

Giles turned back to Owen. "If I led you to the Device, what would you do with it? It's not exactly a subtle weapon. You could use it to destroy whatever planet the Empress is currently using as a homeworld, but only by destroying a thousand other worlds with it. Could you do that? Create another Darkvoid, in the heart of the Empire?"

"You used it," said Owen.

"And look what it did to me. I thought I had good reason. I was wrong. What about you, kinsman? What price will you pay to win?"

"I don't know. I've seen enough killing already, and none of it for a good enough reason." The young girl lay crying in the bloody Mistworld snow, her legs crippled forever by his blade. "Perhaps all I really want is to see the Device destroyed before the Empress can get her hands on it. She wouldn't hesitate to use it. I don't know, Giles. I can't make a decision like this. I'm just a historian, a hoarder of old books and records, not a warrior or a revolutionary. Ask Jack. Or Hazel. Ask anyone but me."

"That's what I said," said Giles Deathstalker. "But in the end, I did what I thought I had to, and so will you when your time comes. I'll take you to the Device. And let us all pray we get there before the Empire does."

"You have a ship?" said Hazel.

"Oh, yes," said Giles. "I have a ship."

"How long will it take to power it up?" said Hazel. "It's got to be in one hell of a state after spending so many centuries in mothballs."

"My computers began bringing it back to life the moment I awakened," said Giles. "It's been well looked after. I always knew I might have to leave in a hurry."

"Better be a fast ship," said Ruby. "Got a lot of determined people on our trail, most especially including the one in orbit."

"And I must beg passage of you," said Moon, and Giles looked at the augmented man interestedly. There had been a strange urgency in his grating, inhuman voice. "My people were created on the lost world of Haden. It stayed lost because that was not its true name. And because it was lost in the Darkvoid. Before my creators found and transformed its interior, it was called the Wolfling World."

"Now that's spooky," said Hazel. "The Darkvoid Device and the sleeping Hadenman army, both on the same planet? What are the chances of that?"

"Too damn small for my liking," said Owen. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear my father arranged it. It's the kind of thing he'd do."

"It's far more likely that I didn't hide my trail as carefully as I thought I had," said Giles. "And if someone found the Wolfling World once, someone else might find it again. I think it's time we got moving."

"Sounds good to me," said Random. He looked round at the armory almost wistfully. "You've got some wonderful toys here, Deathstalker. I could have used a collection like this many times, but weapons were always the most expensive part of a rebellion. Who were these supposed to be used against?"

"The same people I used the Device on. There was a rebellion against the Empire. Widespread, well funded, lots of weapons and men to use them. I destroyed them all in a moment. They weren't even offered a chance to surrender."

"Wait a minute," said Owen. "That's not what it says in the official histories. The Device was only used after every other means had been exhausted. The Empire itself was in danger. That's why they used the Device."

"Not they," said Giles. "Me. My finger on the button. There was no warning, no negotiations, and no danger to the Empire."

"So why did you do it?" said Hazel.

"He was my Emperor." Giles was quiet for a long moment, and nobody said anything. Finally he shrugged and smiled at Owen. "Winners write the histories, kinsman. You should know that."

On the starcruiser Dauntless, orbiting Shandrakor, Captain Silence studied his bridge viewscreen thoughtfully. According to his sensor probes, the whole planet was overrun with homicidal lifeforms wherever you looked. No civilizations, past or present. Except for a certain crashed starship, currently on the viewscreen. Investigator Frost stood at his side, silent and disapproving. She'd wanted to lead the away team that was investigating the wreck and was still sulking because he'd said no. He'd been tempted. If anyone could survive the slaughterhouse down there it was Frost. But if the outlaws got to another ship, the Dauntless might have to leave in a hurry to go after it, even if it meant abandoning the away team. Which meant he could only send down those people he could afford to lose. He sighed and made himself concentrate on the voice accompanying the viewscreen images.

"The ship… is a wreck. Extensive damage, before and after landing. No trace of any crew. Some human blood… not enough to be significant. The stardrive is missing. Cut out, very neatly. Professional. Somebody beat us to her. Captain."

"Understood, Lieutenant. Continue your investigation. Captain out." He turned away from the screen to look at Frost. "What do you think, Investigator? Could there be people, even bases, on this planet that the Empire doesn't know about?"

"Possible, Captain." Her voice was as cold and calm as always. "They could be shielded against our sensors. That would require a great deal of power, though. Perhaps they live underground. It would make sense, given the surface conditions."

"Captain!" said a voice excitedly. "This is surveillance! We're picking something up on the planet's surface. Their shielding just dropped!"

Silence and Frost looked at the viewscreen again. The crashed ship had vanished, replaced by the image of an immense stone castle.

"What the hell is that?" said Silence.

"A castle, sometimes called a Standing, similar to those of the Empire aristocracy nine centuries ago," said Frost. "They were forbidden to anyone else on pain of death. I think we can now be pretty sure of what happened to the outlaws and their stardrive."

"How far is it from the wreck site?"

"Half a mile, Captain," said the surveillance officer. 'The away team would be butchered before they got half that distance without extra equipment."

"He's right," said Frost. "You're going to need a full company of marines, armed and shielded to the teeth, and someone extremely experienced to lead them."

"All right. Investigator, you've made your point." Silence couldn't help smiling at her. "You can lead the away team this time. Make the necessary arrangements."

"It's time to go," said Giles. "I've dropped the Standing's shields to divert the extra power to the takeoff. I never really thought I'd leave this planet again, but I hoped. There's always hope."

"How far is it to your ship?" Owen said quickly. He had a horrible suspicion his ancestor was about to get all sentimental on him, and he didn't think he could cope with that just at the moment. "It better not be too far. With your shields down, we're a sitting target for the starcruiser up above."

"It's not far," said Giles, smiling slightly. "Not far at all. Computers, begin liftoff procedures."

Owen looked blankly at his ancestor as the room began to shake and rumble around him. Far below, under his feet, he could hear the building roar of mighty engines. "Wait a minute. Wait just a damn minute! Your ship is part of the Standing? We're in it now?"

"Not part," said Giles. "The Standing is the ship. And vice versa."

"We're going into hyperspace in a stone castle that's been sitting around for nine centuries?"

"We built to last in my day," said Giles. "Talk to your computer if you want more details."

"Oz? Are you still there? Talk to me!"

"Yes, I'm still here, and you wouldn't believe how cramped it is. Some of these systems are positively prehistory. I can't believe I'm supposed to live in something this small. There isn't room to swing a neuron."

"Talk to me about the castle, Oz, or I swear I'll reprogram you with a blunt spoon. Is it really a starship?"

"Ob, yes. A bit slow and stately, but it'll get you there. Hang on to your hat, Owen; it's going to be rather a bumpy take-off."

On the bridge of the Dauntless, Silence and Frost watched speechlessly as the Last Standing of the Deathstalker Clan tore itself out of the ground and leapt up into the air. Powerful energies roared around it. The jungle was flattened for miles around by the backblast, but the castle rose into the air as smoothly as any starship.

"I don't believe it," said Frost. "A stone starship?"

"We've lost contact with the away team, Captain," said the surveillance officer.

"Gunnery officer, open fire," said Silence. "Blow that thing to rubble."

"We can't, Captain. It's got one of the most powerful force shields I've ever seen. We don't have anything that'll breech it."

"Fire on it anyway!" said Silence. "It's got to have a weak spot!"

"I wouldn't put money on it," said Frost.

And then the castle shimmered and was gone into hyper-space, and there was nothing left to look at on the viewscreen but space.

"Damn," said Silence.

"Yeah," said Frost. "The Empress is not going to be pleased, is she?"

Silence sat back in his command chair and made himself think calmly. "They might think they've gotten away, but it's not over yet. After all, we know where they're going."