Deathstalker War

Just for a moment, Silence considered defying her. She had no real power over them anymore. All the armed guards in her Court couldn't compel him or Frost to do a single damn thing they didn't want to. Not after everything they'd become. But the moment passed, as he'd known it would. She was his Empress. He and Frost had kept their powers to themselves out of a very real fear of ending up as lab rats. Possibly even vivisected lab rats. But the time for such weakness was past. He could recognize fate when it came knocking on his window. So he told the Empress, as clearly as he could, of the strange strengths and abilities and intuitions that he and Frost had manifested since their time on lost Haden, also known as the Wolfling World.

It took a while, not least because Lionstone kept interrupting, pressing him for details and explanations he didn't always have. As he spoke, two new figures appeared in the Court, breasting the sulfurous mists on their way to the Throne. First came Valentine Wolfe, the dandy in black with the long white face. He stopped a respectful distance away, quite happy to watch and listen while Silence spoke. His crimson mouth was stretched in its usual constant smile, and his heavily mascaraed eyes were fever-bright from the impact of the dozen drugs roaring through his veins. Valentine wasn't used to losing, and his recent reverses had stunned him. His response had been to amplify his whirling thoughts with stimulant after stimulant, trying to force his mind to come up with answers to his problems. The end result had been something of a chemical stalemate, where his thoughts crashed emptily together, canceling each other out. And so he'd come to Court; not just for his own safety, but because that was in the end where all the real decisions of Empire were made. Whatever happened here, he was confident he'd find some way to turn it to is advantage. He always did.

He had hoped to call on favors from his previous dalliance with the underground, but it hadn't taken him long to discover that the esper leaders had promised his head to Finlay Campbell, in return for the Campbell's services. You couldn't trust anyone these days. Still, it wasn't a complete loss. Finlay might yet die during the rebellion, with a little help, and afterward Valentine was confident he'd find some way to bargain himself back into the underground's good graces. Or, if things somehow went the other way, and Lionstone yet pulled off some miraculous victory, or more likely some form of compromise with the rebels, she would need someone to speak for her to the underground. Someone with good connections. And who better than the widely experienced Valentine Wolfe?

He laughed quietly, quite at home in Hell, and stood patiently before the Iron Throne, winking at the snarling maids. His body twitched and seethed with possibilities, his thoughts running a mile a second in all directions at once. So he stood still and said nothing. Let others speak. He would listen. He'd find a way to profit. He always did. And then let his enemies beware.

The second figure to appear was, of course, the Lord High Dram, Consort and Widowmaker. He looked rather battered around the edges. There were tears and scorch marks on his clothes, and blood, too, some of it his. He'd been driven from the surface fighting by one rebel victory after another. When the war machines stalled and the Mater Mundi manifested, Dram knew a lost cause when he saw one. He deserted his men, disguised himself, and made his way back to Court. He felt angry rather than guilty. Lionstone kept expecting him to do things that only the original Dram, with all his experience, could have pulled off. While he was only a clone, barely finished, trying to learn on the run and stay alive while men died all around him. It wasn't his fault he didn't know how to cope with overwhelming odds and strange new weapons and espers with the powers of gods. Even the original Dram had never had to face a ubiquitous Mater Mundi. And so he ran away and came home to Lionstone, like a child beaten by bullies at school, hoping not to be beaten again for losing.

A viewscreen chimed, and Lionstone quietened Silence with a sharp wave of her hand. She activated the screen, and General Shaw Beckett appeared. He looked tired, beaten down. There was chaos on his ship's bridge behind him, with people shouting and cursing and running back and forth. Alarm sirens were sounding. Beckett looked steadily out of the screen at Lionstone, and raised his voice to be sure his words could be heard clearly over the bedlam.

"Your Majesty, I have done my best to defend your Empire and yourself with all the powers at my command, but I regret to inform you that I have failed. The war in space is over. My fleet is scattered and destroyed, my ground forces have been overrun on all the worlds I can still get reports from, and I have nothing left to fight with. I can see no scheme or strategy that might enable me to overcome these reverses. Therefore, in order to save as many of my people as possible, in space and on the ground, I have contacted the rebel leaders and offered them my surrender.

"My advice to Your Majesty is to do the same, for the best possible concessions, while you still can. I will hand over control of the fleet to whatever authority replaces Your Majesty. I'm sorry, Lionstone, but I have my men to think of. There's been enough death and suffering. Who knows; perhaps this was all for the best anyway. Good luck, Your Majesty. If we both survive, perhaps we'll meet again in happier times."

He signed off, and the viewscreen went blank while Lionstone was still drawing breath to scream abuse at him. She stared unseeingly about her for a long moment, beating on the arms of her Throne with her fists. The maids stirred uneasily below her, picking up on her mood. Finally her gaze fell on Silence and Frost, and she nodded slowly.

"I am surrounded by incompetents and traitors. But I still have you. My secret weapons. I place command of all my forces in your hands, Captain and Investigator. Defend the Empire. Slaughter the scum rioting in my streets. Don't dare fail me." And the rage boiled up in her again, and her voice rose in a frustrated scream. "Is there no one else to defend me from the rabble?"

"Well, there's always me," said Alexander Storm.

Everyone looked round, startled, as the old rebel came strolling unhurriedly through the horrors of Hell. Jack Random walked behind him, pulling along a heavily chained and restrained Ruby Journey by a leash around her neck. When she tried to slow down or pull back, Random just tightened the leash till she couldn't breathe, and had no choice but to hurry and catch up. Alexander Storm came to a halt a respectful distance away from the maids, signaled Random to halt, and then bowed courteously to Lionstone and the others present.

"Your Majesty, honored guests; may I present my two prisoners, those most damnable rebels and traitors, Jack Random and Ruby Journey. Yours to do with as you wish."

There was a long silence, and then the Empress Lionstone laughed and clapped her hands together girlishly. "You see, my friends? It's not over till I say it's over."

Owen Deathstalker, his ancestor Giles, and Hazel d'Ark had arrived in the great antechamber that was the only access to Lionstone's Court. A huge open chamber of gleaming steel and brass, with huge intricately carved pillars of gold and silver, it stretched away in all directions, vast and empty and echoing. Normally it would have been full of the movers and shakers of Empire, all waiting impatiently for the great steel doors to open, and their chance to gain the ear of the Empress. But now the great antechamber stood deserted and abandoned. Owen and Giles and Hazel stood before the closed double doors, and looked at them thoughtfully.

"Bound to be locked," said Owen.

"Oh, bound to be," said Hazel. "I take it you don't have any codes for this?"

"Afraid not," said Owen. "Don't suppose you brought any explosives with you, by any chance?"

"Afraid not," said Hazel. "Guess we'll just have to smash our way through by brute force and ignorance."

"Get on with it," said Giles. "I've come a long way to be here, and I have much to do."

Owen and Hazel exchanged a glance, but before they could say anything, there was a bright flash of light and Jenny Psycho, Toby Shreck, and Flynn appeared suddenly out of nowhere. Jenny surrounded herself with a psionic force shield, then dropped it a moment later as she realized no one was attacking her. Toby and Flynn checked to see that their camera was still with them and looked around with open mouths. Toby realized who was standing before him, and where he was, and gestured urgently for Flynn to start filming.

"What the hell are you doing here?" said Hazel, not all that welcomingly.

"The Mater Mundi wanted us here," said Jenny Psycho. "Any problems, take it up with her. Apparently she wants the downfall of the Empress shown live throughout the Empire. Why she wants me here as well… isn't yet clear to me. No doubt I'll find out shortly. So, bring me up to date. What lies between us and the Court?"

"Well, basically, these doors," said Owen. "Personally, I thought there'd be more security than this."

He broke off and they all looked round as they heard the sound of approaching running feet. There seemed to be a hell of a lot of them. Those who had them drew swords and guns. Jenny gathered her power around her till it crackled on the air. Flynn sent his camera up to the ceiling, made sure it was pointing in the right direction, and then moved quickly to join Toby in hiding behind the others. He'd barely made it when a small army of Lionstone's personal guards came charging into the antechamber, armed with drawn swords and personal force shields. Owen took a firm grip on his sword. There had to be at least two hundred of them. Hazel glared at him.

"You had to open your big mouth."

"Surrender!" yelled the officer in charge of the guards. "You're massively outnumbered. You don't stand a chance."

Owen grinned at Giles. "He doesn't know us very well, does he?"

"Finish them quickly," said Giles. "Lionstone could be trying to distract us while she makes her escape."

"Can I just point out, in an extremely nonthreatening way, that Flynn and I are very definitely noncombatants," said Toby, from the rear.

"Kill them all," snapped the guard officer, and led the way forward.

Jenny Psycho levitated into the air, spread her arms wide, and lightning blazed from her hands, striking down the first dozen guards. Hazel d'Ark shimmered, and suddenly there were a dozen of her. Hazels that might have been from other timestreams, all of them grinning nastily at the prospect of battle. Giles teleported back and forth among the guards, striking men down and disappearing again before he could be attacked. Owen smiled and shook his head. Show-offs. He hefted his sword, boosted, and went to meet the guards with death in his eyes. Two men and two women went to war against an army, and the numbers were no problem to them, no problem at all.

At first. The rebels cut their way through the guards with grim efficiency, and soon dead bodies lay everywhere, getting underfoot. The rebels killed and killed, but still the guards kept coming. Owen fought on, swinging his sword with both hands, and no one could stand against him. He was boosting, and strength and speed sang in his arms, but for every guard that fell, it seemed there were two more pressing forward to take his place. They swarmed around him, coming at him from all directions, and soon there wasn't enough room to swing his sword anymore, and all he could do was cut and stab. Backed by his boosted strength and speed, such blows were still devastating and deadly, but with enemies at his back as well as his front he couldn't relax for a moment. He fought on, spinning this way and that, holding his enemies at bay, knowing that if slowed down or hesitated even for a moment, he was a dead man.

Quick glances around suggested his friends weren't doing any better. The Hazels had become separated, scattered the length of the antechamber, but still fighting furiously. Owen had to smile. It seemed that whatever reality the various Hazels came from, she was always a hell of a scrapper. One of the Hazels was forced back in his direction, and Owen was glad to see it was the original. They moved quickly to fight back-to-back, and Owen was happy to have her there. They'd always made an excellent team.

He could see Giles fighting some distance away, roaring his ancient battle cries and bringing his huge long sword down like a hammer, guards surrounding him like attack dogs struggling to bring down a bear. He'd had to stop teleporting. There wasn't enough space left among the fighters for him to teleport into. It seemed to Owen that there were even more guards now than when they'd started, for all the dead bodies cluttering up the floor. They must be bringing in reinforcements. The cheats. Jenny Psycho was still hanging in the air, wreathed in lightning, but didn't seem to be lashing out with it anymore. This puzzled Owen till he saw the guards bringing in esp-blocker after esp-blocker, piling up the brains in their glass cases, trying to shut down Jenny's amplified powers by sheer attrition.

And for the first time it occurred to Owen that just maybe this was as far as he was going to get. He'd come so far, fought his way through so many obstacles, but even he had his limitations. Even a boosted man couldn't stand off a whole army. He remembered how it had all started, so long ago now, with him standing alone against a crowd of his own turncoat guards on Virimonde, outnumbered and about to die. Maybe he'd come full circle; only this time Hazel wasn't going to be able to save him. She was as deep in trouble as he was. It seemed crazy to Owen that after all he'd been through, he was finally going to fall to a bunch of armed guards, just because there were so many of them. He reached inside himself, trying to find the power he'd used on Mistworld to bring a whole building down, but there was nothing there. Nothing came to answer his call, no matter how desperately he tried. And he had no idea why.

He was soaked in sweat now, and he had to keep blinking it out of his eyes as it ran down his face. He was breathing hard, and it seemed to him that he wasn't quite as fast as he had been. Some of the guards' blows were beginning to get through. Just a minor cut here and there, barely felt in his boosted condition, but a wound was a wound and blood was blood. Enough blood loss would slow him down, despite the boost. And the boost wouldn't last forever. Beyond a certain point, the flame that burned so brightly would start to consume him. Just as it had on Mistworld. He cut and hacked and blocked blows from every direction. He was a Deathstalker, and guards fell dead and dying all around him. He could hear Hazel grunting and bumping against his back as she fought, so he knew she was still with him. But over on the other side of the antechamber, he saw another Hazel with dark skin and dreadlocks go down suddenly under a dozen hacking swords, and though he watched as long as he could, she didn't rise again. Giles was backed up against a wall, cut in a dozen places, blood streaming down his face from a long cut on his temple. There was no sign of Jenny Psycho anywhere.

And then he heard Hazel cry out in shock and pain behind him, and her back slammed against his for a moment before she fell to her knees. Owen spun around, swinging his sword with all his strength, forcing the guards back. Hazel sat slumped at his feet, bent over a gut wound. She'd dropped her sword. She was trying to hold the great ragged wound together by wrapping her arms tightly around her, but blood was pouring out of her. There was already a great pool of it forming around her. Owen knew a death wound when he saw it. He tried to say her name, but couldn't seem to get his breath. He dropped out of boost, and his sword arm fell. The guards rushed in. And all the rage and horror rose up in Owen, igniting his power once again. Filling him with a blazing energy that would not be denied. He gave himself up to it, and it roared out of him like an unstoppable tide. The guards nearest him were consumed in a moment, like moths in a flame, and then more died screaming as the energy rushed on. The guards tried to turn and run, but it was upon them in seconds, destroying them all without quarter or mercy. In the space of a few seconds, every guard in the antechamber was dead, and only Giles and Jenny, Toby and Flynn and a handful of Hazels were left standing. Owen shut the power down, looked at all the dead, and didn't give a damn.

He sank down beside Hazel, and took her gently in his arms. She laid her head against his chest, and he cradled her to him. She felt very light in his arms, as though she was already drifting away from him. He was quickly soaked in the blood leaking out of her, but he didn't notice. He tried reaching for the power again, but there was no response. Whatever the Madness Maze had given him, it was a thing of death and destruction, and not healing. He could slay an army, but he couldn't save the one person who mattered to him most. His chest was tight, and he couldn't get his breath. Hazel lifted her head slowly, and tried to smile up at him. Her teeth were red with blood. Owen started to cry, great rasping sobs that shook his whole body. Hazel tried to say something to him, and then her breath went out of her in a series of shudders, and she lay dead in his arms. Owen held her close and rocked her like a sleeping child.

"I did it for you," he tried to say past his tears. "I did it all for you, Hazel."

He heard footsteps approaching, but he didn't look up. He had nothing to say to anyone. And then someone with Hazel's voice said his name. He stopped crying, a wild hope jumping in his heart, but it was only when the dead Hazel disappeared from his arms that he finally believed it. He made himself look up, and there was Hazel d'Ark standing over him. The real original, this time. He scrambled to his feet, and then just stood there and stared at her, afraid to touch her in case she disappeared, too. Finally she reached out and took him in her arms, and he hugged her fiercely to him, like a drowning man clinging to the only thing that could save him. They stood that way for a long time, both of them breathing hard.

"I thought I'd lost you," Owen said finally. "I really thought I'd lost you."

"It's all right, Owen," said Hazel. "I'm here. I'll always be here for you."

After a while they let go and stepped back to look at each other. Owen wiped the last of the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Hazel smiled at him awkwardly. She looked around at the dead bodies heaped on the antechamber floor, and nodded, impressed.

"Way to go, aristo. Remind me never to get you angry at me."

"Never happen," said Owen, his voice still just a little unsteady. "Hazel, I…"

"I know. But we can talk about that later. Right now, we still have an Empire to overthrow."

Owen shook his head. "It's always business first with you, isn't it. Hazel?"

Jenny and Giles came forward to join them. Jenny had been busy smashing the esp-blockers, and Giles had tied a handkerchief round his head to stop the bleeding. It wasn't the cleanest of handkerchiefs, but Owen didn't think he'd say anything. With the blood still drying on his face, the old warrior looked not unlike a pirate of old.

"Nice show, Deathstalker," said Jenny briskly. "I'm impressed. Are you sure you're not the Mater Mundi in disguise?"

"Positive," said Owen. "Whatever I'm becoming, it's not an esper. It's… more than that."

"Still, you did well, kinsman," said Giles. "You were wasted as a scholar, boy."

Toby and Flynn emerged from the alcove where they'd been hiding, and hurried over to join the others, Flynn's camera tagging along behind them.

"We're fine, too, just in case anybody cares," said Toby, just a little hurt.

"Oh, we never worried about you," said Hazel. "Everyone knows journalists are harder to kill than cockroaches."

And then, by some unspoken agreement, they all turned and looked at the great steel double doors that led into Lionstone's Court. It was very quiet in the antechamber, as though even the dead were waiting to see what would happen next.

"Do we knock?" said Hazel. "Or do we blast our way in?"

"I don't think we need to knock," said Giles. "Lionstone knows we're here. She also knows she can't keep us out."

As if on cue, the doors swung slowly open, silent for all their massive size and weight. Bloodred light spilled out into the antechamber, along with the stench of blood and brimstone. Owen and Hazel started forward, sword and gun in hand, and they all walked forward into Hell.

In Court, before the Iron Throne, Alexander Storm gave in to his need to strut a bit. His existence as an Imperial agent deep within the rebel structure had of necessity involved hiding who and what he really was, so now he took the opportunity to show off a little. The Empress was smiling down at him approvingly, and Dram and Valentine looked quite jealous. Razor and the SummerIsle stared coldly at him from their positions just behind the Throne, but Storm didn't care about their opinions. Razor was an Investigator, the Kid was a psychopath. Silence and Frost and Stelmach didn't matter either. They were renowned for failing the Empress, whereas he had succeeded brilliantly.

"I've been an Imperial agent ever since the rebels got their heads handed to them on Cold Rock," he said proudly to his audience. "I saw Jack fall and be taken, and knew that was the end of any real hopes for the rebellion. And I'd fought for so very long, with nothing to show for it. So I surrendered and struck a deal. It wasn't difficult. They were glad to have me. They recognized my worth. And all these years I've wormed my way deeper and deeper into the heart of the underground, trusted by one damn fool after another, sabotaging and undermining their operations pretty much at will. No one every suspected me. I was Alexander Storm, the great rebel hero, friend and companion to the legendary Jack Random.

"I was a bit worried when Jack turned up again, but the mind techs had done a good job on him. They saw to it he never remembered much of his time on Cold Rock, let alone my desertion and turning. He never even remembered how I helped the mind techs torture and condition him, to prove my loyalty to my new masters. So when he reappeared, and I finally had to meet him because putting it off any longer might have seemed suspicious. Well, it was all old friends together again, and he never saw past my smile to see the contempt in my eyes. After that, it was just a case of waiting for the best time to use the control words the mind techs had planted in Jack's subconscious. And here he is now, standing before Your Majesty, harmless as a newborn kitten."

"What about the bounty hunter?" said Razor. "There have been reports of her developing psi powers…"

"Don't worry about her," said Storm. "She's drugged to the eyeballs and loaded down with so many chains and restraints it's a wonder she can still stand." He wandered over to her and kicked her behind the knee. She fell heavily to her knees, her chains clanking loudly. Storm laughed, and moved back before the Throne.

"I thought Jack Random was your friend," said Captain Silence.

Storm shrugged. "He was. And then he let me down, by being only human. Legends shouldn't get old and tired and slow, and lose more often than they win. I was tired of being a loser. I wanted to be on the winning side, to have wealth and luxuries and an easy life, to make up for all my years of nothing. No one was ever grateful to me for all the times I risked my life on their behalf, the bastards. No one ever said thanks, you've done enough, let someone else take over now. No, they just wanted more. Even Jack. Into battle one more time, on some godforsaken rock I'd never even heard of, leading dumb peasants against trained Imperial troops, and all of it for nothing. All the blood and the fear and the death of friends. I just got tired of it all. So when Jack fell and was taken, I had a moment of very clear insight, and saw the futility of rebellion. Even if we were to win, and overthrow the Empress, she'd only be replaced by someone just like her. It's the nature of the job, and the way things are. So I gave up poverty and hopelessness for wealth and security. And a chance to strike back at the rebels and make them pay for all the years of my life they had wasted."

"He was still your friend," said Silence.

Storm glared at him. "Is he? I don't know who this is anymore. He should be my age, but he's young, and I'm not. He's a man of power and destiny again, and I'm not. All my life has been unfair, and he's always been the most unfair thing in it."

"Kill you," said Ruby Journey thickly. They all turned to look at her, kneeling and weighed down with chains, fighting to hold her head up. She glared at Storm. "He trusted you. Loved you like a brother. Fought beside you. I'll kill you slowly, you treacherous bastard. Rip your heart out and make you eat it before you die. Chains won't hold me. Drugs wear off. I'll see you dead before I am."

"Oh shut up," said Storm. He swaggered over to her, and punched her in the mouth. She fell backwards. "I never liked you, bitch." He started kicking her.

"That's quite enough of that," said Owen Deathstalker.

His voice rang across the Court, sharp and commanding, and Storm fell back in spite of himself. Everyone turned to see Owen leading his companions through the inferno, toward the Iron Throne. Two Deathstalkers, both legends and men of destiny. Hazel d'Ark, the pirate turned hero. Psycho Jenny, the sacred madwoman of the esper underground. And, like two crows with great experience of battlefields, Toby and Flynn brought up the rear, there for the end of the story, whatever it might be.

Investigator Razor and Kit SummerIsle moved quickly to stand between the Throne and the newcomers. Storm hurried back to join Dram and Valentine Wolfe. Silence and Frost drew their swords. Stelmach drew his gun. The maids-in-waiting stirred angrily, and hissed at the new arrivals as Owen led them toward the Throne. They stopped beside Ruby Journey, who looked up at them and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"Took you long enough to get here."

"Sorry," said Owen. "We got distracted. Need a hand?"

"In your dreams, aristo." Ruby stood up and flexed her arms, and the enveloping chains shattered and fell away from her. Ruby smiled nastily at the stunned Storm. "You didn't really think drugs and chains would hold someone like me, did you?"

Owen looked around him, taking in the smoldering ash pits, the burning angels, the great vents in the floor from which arose the screams of the damned. The crimson light, the rows of the impaled dead, and the tortured sinners hanging on their barbed chains. When he finally looked back at Lionstone, his voice was as flat and cold as his gaze. "Nice place you've got here, Lionstone. It's you. Your taste always tended to the extreme, but I think you've really outdone yourself this time. You've progressed from the disturbed to the actually psychotic. You've become a sick person, Lionstone, a mad dog, a rabid animal; and it's our job to shut you down."

Lionstone leaned back in her Throne, apparently unmoved. "Welcome to our Court, outlaw. We've been expecting you. We even have a few guests here to greet you, specially invited with you in mind. For instance…"

She snapped her fingers, and a masking holoillusion dropped away, revealing the huge wooden cross set up behind the Iron Throne. And nailed to that cross, Mother Superior Beatrice Christiana, the saint of Technos III.

Her nun's robes were torn and bloodied, and her wimple was gone, replaced by a crown of thorns. Dried blood encrusted thickly around her pierced wrists and ankles, and more had run down her face from where the crown had been jammed forcefully onto her head. She was still alive and still conscious enough to feel the awful pain that wracked her. Her face was twisted away from its usual serenity, dragged beyond humanity into pure animal suffering.

"She seemed so eager to be a martyr that I thought I'd oblige her," said Lionstone. "If she's really sincere in her religion, she should take it as a compliment. A martyr's death is supposed to be the highest honor they can hope to obtain in this life. Isn't that right?"

"You bitch! You stinking bitch!" Surprisingly, it was Toby Shreck who broke first. He lunged forward, enraged beyond reason, as though he planned to free Beatrice by brute force. Flynn had to grab him and hold him back. "Let me go!" said Toby, struggling to break free. "I won't stand for this! Not her! She's the only decent person I ever met!"

"You'd be dead before you could get anywhere near her, boss," said Flynn, almost shouting at Toby as he held him firmly. "She wants someone to try something, so she can set her maids on them, as an example."

"He's right, Shreck," said Giles. "Listen to your friend. We'll deal with this. It's what we're here for."

"Right," said Hazel. "Make sure your camera's working. You're about to witness the death of an Empress. Convenient of you to build your own Hell, Lionstone. It means you won't have too far to go when we drag you down off your Throne, and cut your damned head off."

"The show isn't over yet," said Lionstone. "Beatrice, this is your moment. Come on down, and kill these vermin for me."

And as the rebels watched incredulously, Beatrice raised her head on the cross and smiled down at them. With one convulsive movement, she ripped her arms and legs free from the blocky nails holding her to the wood, and dropped lightly to the ground. She started toward the rebels, still smiling, and everyone by the Throne hurried to get out of her way. Lionstone was laughing. Toby stared stupidly for a moment, then gestured urgently to make sure Flynn was getting it all.

"She's not the real thing," said Hazel. "She can't be. Nothing human could have freed itself that easily."

"Right," said Owen. "It's some kind of Fury, a machine. Lionstone just had it nailed up there to upset us."

"And it worked," said Toby. "I can't believe I was fooled again. Is nobody what they appear to be anymore?"

"You'd be surprised," said Owen. "Now stand back and give us some room, journalist. This could get a little messy."

"I knew you'd like her," said Lionstone. "Dear Valentine donated her. He had her constructed as a sex toy originally, when he couldn't get his hands on the real thing, but he quite rightly thought I'd get more use out of her. I've even had some special augmentations added, just for you. Aren't I good to you? Beatrice, dear, kill them all and bring me their heads."

The thing that looked like Beatrice Christiana surged forward incredibly quickly. Disrupter muzzles emerged from the holes in her hands. Dazzlingly bright energy beams blazed through the crimson air, narrowly missing Owen and Hazel as they threw themselves to one side, and striking Giles square in the chest. The impact threw him to the ground. Hazel brought up her projectile weapon and opened fire, but the bullets rebounded harmlessly from the steel chassis under the flesh covering. Owen fired his disrupter, but the machine just ducked under the energy beam and kept coming. She was on Hazel before she could drop the gun and draw her disrupter, grabbed her by the throat with one hand, and lifted her up into the air. Hazel dangled helplessly, choking as the metal fingers cut off her air. She clawed at the metal arm with both hands, feet kicking a good yard above the floor.

Owen threw himself at the machine from behind, but she wheeled inhumanly quickly, and slapped him away with her free hand like a bothersome child. Hazel's eyes bulged as she fought for air. Owen was quickly back on his feet, boosted, and came at the Fury again. He ducked under the sweeping arm this time, and drove his sword at not-Beatrice's unprotected throat. Steel slammed against steel, and the impact jarred the sword out of Owen's hand. He didn't hesitate and slammed his fist into its metallic side with all his boosted strength behind it. Amazingly, the steel ribs dented under the blow, and she staggered to one side, still holding on to Hazel. Owen hit it again and again, ignoring the pain of his skinned knuckles, doing damage, but not enough to make her drop her prey.

And then Jenny Psycho stepped forward, a sword blade of shimmering psi energy emerging from her hand. She chopped down, and the energy blade sheared clean through the machine's arm. Hazel crashed to the ground, the steel hand still crushing her throat. She thrashed back and forth, tearing at it with both hands. Owen was quickly there beside her, and between them they broke the metal fingers one by one and pulled the hand away. Owen threw it to one side, and it lay twitching on the ground like a giant malformed spider.

The thing that looked like Beatrice stood facing Jenny Psycho, who grinned at it nastily. The energy sword disappeared from her hand, and she made a beckoning gesture. Beatrice looked at the esper for a moment, a quizzical expression on her artificial face, then suddenly she convulsed, her back arching. Strange noises came from her mouth, and her chest and sides bellowed in and out. And then her mouth stretched impossibly as all her artificial guts came fountaining up and out, pushing the teeth aside as they came. More and more flew from her mouth, torn out by Jenny's esp, and she staggered back and forth as the high-tech contents fell to the ground at her feet. Finally there was nothing left of it but an artificial shell, tottering on its feet. Her workings lay steaming and twitching on the ground, spread over a wide area. Jenny smiled again, made a pushing gesture with one finger, and the lifeless shell crashed to the ground and lay still. Owen and Hazel got to their feet, and looked at it.

"The girl had guts," said Hazel, her voice just a little rough.

Owen winced, and moved over to Giles, who was sitting up and shaking his head muzzily. Owen helped him up. "You took a disrupter blast point-blank in the chest," he said, almost accusingly. "Why aren't you dead?"

"Force shield," said Giles briskly. "I've been working on it since Haceldama. Takes a lot out of me, but I think I'm getting the hang of it. You could do it, too, if you practiced."

"Never seem to have the time," said Owen. "You know how it is; when you're running a rebellion, it's one damned thing after another."

The rebels dusted themselves off, and turned back to face the Throne. Lionstone stared back at them unflinchingly. "You always break my favorite toys. Very well, let's try something else. Owen Deathstalker, Hazel d'Ark, Code Blue Two Two."

She smiled triumphantly as she spoke the control words implanted in Owen's and Hazel's minds by the treacherous AI Ozymandius, but then her smile faltered as they just stood there, unmoved. Lionstone tried the control words again. Owen smiled at her.

"That won't work anymore. We've moved beyond that."

Lionstone spun on Jack Random. "You are still my creature. Obey me. Kill your friends!"

Random smiled, and shook his head. "Sorry, Lionstone. I'm not under your control. Never was. Control words won't work on what we've become. I only went along to be sure of ending up here, right in front of you, just in case Owen and the others didn't make it. Ruby went along with it, once she realized what I was up to."

Ruby sniffed. "If I'd known it entailed being chained up like an escape artist and kicked around like a rag doll, I'd have thought twice about it."

"I had to be convincing," said Random. "Besides, you're always telling me how tough you are. I knew you could take it."

"Well next time, I'll be the one in charge, and you can get chained up, and see how you like it."

"Kinky," said Random. "Remember, Ruby, it's all for the cause."

"Stuff the cause. I'm in this for the money, and don't you forget it."

Random sighed, shook his head, and turned to look at Alexander Storm. The two men who used to be friends stared at each other.

"I'd been having my suspicions about you for quite a while, Alex," Random said finally. "Little things I was beginning to remember about Cold Rock. Things about you that didn't add up, compared to the man I used to know. I put it down to age at first. We all change as we get older. But I didn't want to believe how much you'd changed, till you used the control words on me. So I went along, to find out who you really were these days. Damn it, Alex; did I really let you down so badly? I never meant for you to be hurt."

"Oh, you always meant well, Jack," said Storm. "You promised me all kinds of things, but you never delivered. So I went to people who would keep their promises. People I could trust. They looked after me, treated me well. More than you ever did."

Storm was trembling with anger by the time he finished, almost spitting the words at Random, trying to hurt him, even now. Random sighed, and met Storm's gaze unflinchingly. "You poor bastard. You could have come to me anytime. Told me. We could have worked something out. I would have understood. You were my friend, Alex."

"You were always so bloody understanding! Saint Jack, the hero and savior of the downtrodden, who had time for everyone but his friends! I got sick of your endless nobility, of having to be the selfless hero again and again, and to hell with the lives we might have made for ourselves. This is all your fault, Jack. You made me what I am. You're responsible for everything I've done. And now I'm going to die here, because of you. I know that. But I'll hurt you one last time, before I go."

He surged forward, a hidden knife suddenly in his hand, heading not for Jack Random, but Ruby Journey. His knife flashed for her throat before Random could even begin to react. But Ruby's hand came up impossibly quickly, slapped the knife aside, and then she punched Storm over the heart with all her strength behind it. Her fist sank in as far as the wrist, right under the sternum. Storm stopped in his charge, as though he'd run into a brick wall. All the color went out of his face, and he crumpled to the floor, just an old man who'd been hurt so badly he couldn't even breathe. The knife fell from his hand as the feeling went out of his fingers. Random was quickly there at his side, but by the time he'd taken Storm gently by the shoulders, the old man was already dead, his heart crushed to a pulp by a single blow. Random stood up and looked at Ruby.

"He was my friend, for a long time."

"I know," said Ruby. "That's why I killed him. So you wouldn't have to."

Random nodded. He couldn't bring himself to thank her, not now. Maybe later.

"This is all very interesting, not to say sentimental and downright sickening," said Lionstone. "But the game isn't over yet. I still have a few cards left to play. Let's try an obvious one, this time. Guards! A Lordship to whoever brings me the Deathstalker's head!"

The guards standing in ranks behind the Throne rushed forward as one, their holographic disguises as burning angels falling away to reveal the armored men beneath. The monofilament swords in their hands were real enough, though, power-driven swords with an edge a single molecule thick, capable of cutting through anything. That many men, with that kind of weapon, could have stopped an army in its tracks. So the rebels didn't let the guards reach them. Jenny Psycho gestured, the power units that maintained the monofilament edge suddenly shorted out, and the swords were suddenly just swords again. While the guards were coming to terms with that, Random and Ruby hit them with a rolling wave of pyrokinetic fire. The guards burst into flames, some dying immediately, others turning and running, as though they could leave the deadly flames behind. As they ran they lit the Court like so many blazing candles, until one by one they fell, and guttered out.

Lionstone stared blankly at the charred and steaming carnage around her Throne, and then turned to her maids-in-waiting. "Kill them! Kill them all!"

The maids surged forward like attack dogs unleashed. Pointed teeth showed in their snarling mouths, and steel claws snapped out from under their fingernails. They were trained and deadly beasts of prey, conditioned to die rather than fail, packed with cybernetic augmentations. And Jenny Psycho stepped forward to meet them alone.

"This has gone on for far too long. It's time to end it now."

Her mind leaped out and dropped upon the maids, sinking deep into their minds and battling the conditioning at its roots. The maids fell to the ground, screaming and crying out, rolling and clawing at the floor like animals as an invisible war was waged in their minds. Jenny ripped away the conditioning with her esp, undid the neural connections and reconstituted the damaged brain tissues, returning the maids to who they had been before Lionstone took them to be her slaves. It was all over in a few moments, and then Jenny withdrew from their minds. The maids stopped their animal behavior and sat up, suddenly human again for the first time in years. At first they were stunned, and then slowly they came to themselves—their old selves. Some screamed, and tried to hide their nakedness. Some screamed, remembering what they had done, had been commanded to do, by Lionstone. They shook and shuddered, unable to cry with their artificial eyes. And some just looked around them in utter confusion. Toby Shreck stared intently at one of the maids, and then stepped forward.

"Clarissa? Clarissa, is that you?"

She looked at him blankly for a moment, and then recognition flooded her altered face. "Toby! Cousin Toby!"

She ran forward into his arms. He held her tightly for a moment, and then took off his battered jacket and wrapped her up in it. Clarissa looked around her, at the Hell Lionstone had made.

"Are we dead, Toby?"

"No, love. You're alive again. The rebellion is here, and all the prisoners are being set free." He looked back at the others. "She's Family. Gregor's niece. Lionstone took her as a maid and made a monster out of her, and there was nothing any of us could do. Thank you, Jenny. Strikes me there are a lot of people who are going to want to thank you, too."

"No big deal," said Jenny Psycho. "I think there's been enough fighting and killing. That's Lionstone's way. We're supposed to be different. You and Flynn look after the maids. We still have work to do."

And as Toby and Flynn gathered up the maids and ushered them away out of the line of fire, Jenny moved back to confront Lionstone again. And then she stopped, and looked around sharply as Captain Silence moved uncertainly forward, staring at her searchingly. She looked at him flatly, not making it any easier for him, but eventually recognition flooded into Silence's face.

"Diana?"

"Not anymore," said Jenny. "That was somebody else."

"I hardly recognized you. You look so… different."

"It's called growing up, Captain. Happens to everyone eventually."

"You know this person?" said Lionstone, frowning.

"Of course he does," said Frost. "This is his daughter, Diana Vertue. Ship's esper on his last command."

Silence looked at Frost. "You knew? How long have you known?"

"I recognized her face on a Security posting some months back."

"Then why didn't you tell me!"

"You weren't ready to handle something like this. I'm not sure you're ready now. And I didn't want you distracted from your other responsibilities."

Silence turned back to Jenny. "I'd heard you joined the underground. But what happened to you? To your voice? You look…"

"Like I've been through Hell? That's because I have. This place doesn't frighten me. I've seen the real thing. I'm not Diana Vertue anymore. She died screaming in the esper interrogation cells in Silo Nine. Also known as Wormboy Hell. I'm Jenny Psycho now. For now and always. But then, we're both different people than we used to be, aren't we. Father? You've changed, too. This close, I can feel the Maze's energies working within you. How does it feel, Father, to know you've become the same kind of person you used to track down and kill?"

"Diana…"

"Jenny. I'm Jenny now."

"All right, Jenny. I never knew they'd put you into Silo Nine. If I'd known, I'd have…"

"You'd have what? Smashed your way into one of the Empire's most strongly guarded prisons to save me?"

"Yes," said Silence simply. "If I'd known, I would have come for you."

Jenny nodded slowly. "Yes. Maybe you would have at that. But you didn't. On the planet Unseeli, you promised me you'd never let me be hurt again. You lied. Daddy."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

"And now here we are, on different sides of the war, and all because of the Iron Bitch. How can you still defend her, after all she's done? After all she had done to me?"

"She's my Empress," said Silence.

Lionstone jumped down from her Throne, stalked over to Silence, and slapped him hard on the face. His head rocked under the blow, but he held his ground. Lionstone stuck her face right in front of his, so close that when she spoke, her spittle sprayed his cheeks. "Traitor! Damned traitor! You hid your powers from me, you failed in every mission I gave you, and now I find your own daughter is one of my greatest enemies!"

"That's all true," Silence said steadily. "But you are still my Empress."

Lionstone laughed in his face, and drew back her hand for another blow. And then she gasped, her eyes widening as an unseen force gripped her hand firmly and jerked it back. She tried to break free, and couldn't. She looked across at Jenny Psycho, who was scowling at her.

"That's enough of that, bitch. That's my dad you're messing with."

"I appreciate the gesture," said Silence. "But let her go, Jenny. Please."

Jenny sniffed, released her hold, and gave the Empress a mental shove that sent her stumbling back toward her Throne. Lionstone quickly regained her balance and seated herself on her Throne again with defiant dignity. She was still the Empress, and she still had weapons she could use. She glared around her, and her gaze fell on Valentine Wolfe.

"Don't look at me," said Valentine. "I know a lost cause when I see one. I could fight for you, I suppose. I have drugs for that. But I really don't see the point. The rebellion's time has come. It would seem I jumped ship from the underground a little too early. So. I will withdraw to the sidelines and offer my services to whoever comes out on top. People like me are always useful."

"You're not fighting because you're afraid your makeup would get smudged," said Hazel.

Valentine smiled. "That too."

"Do you really think you can be forgiven for what your war machines did on Virimonde?" said Owen. "For the slaughter and suffering and horror you brought to a helpless farming people?"

The Wolfe shrugged. "I was only obeying orders. Not an original excuse, I'll admit, but then the old jokes are always the best. And I can be very loyal, for the right rewards. And I'm sure the underground leaders will recognize my worth. I know things, you see. Things the underground will need to know, if it's to take control of the Empire without unnecessary suffering and destruction. Which is more important to you, Deathstalker, seeing me punished or rebuilding the Empire with the minimum of bloodshed? No, they'll pardon me, no matter how much the rabble scream for my head. I'm just too valuable to waste. Not to worry, Deathstalker. You've still got Lionstone to kill. Enjoy yourself. Knock yourself out. It's not every day you get to murder an Empress."

"Execute," said Owen.

Valentine smiled. "Don't you just love euphemisms?"

Lionstone turned desperately on her Throne to her two bodyguards. "Razor! SummerIsle! Defend me!"

"No," said Kit calmly. "I don't think so. Because of you, David died on Virimonde. I only came back here for a chance to watch you die at close quarters. And do the job myself, if necessary. My David is dead. I'll enjoy watching you die, Lionstone."

Razor drew his sword and spun it around in a vicious sideways arc aimed at Kit's neck. But for all his Investigator's swiftness, he couldn't catch the SummerIsle off guard. Kit's sword was in just the right place to block the blow, as though he'd known all along what Razor was going to do. And maybe he had. He was Kid Death, after all. The two men sprang apart, and then circled each other warily, two practiced killers come together at last in a match that would finally decide which of them was better. Their swords slammed together, withdrew, and then spun through a dazzling series of cuts and parries. Razor was an Investigator, trained since childhood to be the perfect killing machine in the Empire's interests. Kit SummerIsle, Kid Death, was a natural-born psychopath, with a genius for swordplay and slaughter, who had killed his whole Family just for the fun of it. Two men who had taken Death as their mistress, and knew nothing of quarter or mercy. And in the end talent won out over training, as Kit dared Razor into a corps a corps, smiled at him over the crossed swords, then stuck a dagger in Razor's ribs with his other hand. Razor looked startled for a moment, as though he couldn't believe it was happening, then he fell to his knees as the strength suddenly went out of his legs. Kit knelt down with him and pushed the dagger in a little deeper. Razor dropped his sword. He met Kid Death's eyes unflinchingly and even managed a sneer.

"You only beat me because I'm old and slow, boy."

"No," said Kit. "I beat you because you still cared whether you lived or died. And I never have. Now shut up and die. I have business to be about."

He pushed the dagger in one more inch, and the light went out of Razor's eyes. He fell backwards and lay still. Kit waited a moment, to hear the last dying breath go out of his enerriy, and then he smiled briefly, took back his dagger, and got to his feet. He nodded to Owen.

"The Empire killed David. Not me. He was the only friend I ever had. Guess I'm back in the rebellion again."

"What makes you think we want a lunatic like you?" said Jenny.

Kit raised an eyebrow. "Hark who's talking. No, they'll take me back. You'll always need someone like me. Someone to do the dirty jobs no one else wants to do. I don't care. I'm a killer. I go where the killing is."

One of Lionstone's hands rose slowly to tangle its fingers in her hair, pulling loose long curls of pale blond strands. Her eyes were wild and staring, her mouth a flat thin line. "Will no one defend the Empress in her hour of need? Is there not one loyal subject left to me?"

"Hell," said Dram. "I suppose there's always me." He strode forward and set himself between the Throne and the rebels. "I've always been yours, Lionstone, till death do us part. You gave me life. Gave me everything. And if my life's been a little shorter than most, it sure as hell hasn't been boring." He grinned at Owen. "I had a great time on Virimonde, Deathstalker. Watching your peasants run before me, striking them down and trampling them underfoot. Stamping the spilt blood into the furrowed earth, and watching the towns burn in the early-morning light. I ate your world up and spit it out, Deathstalker, and loved every minute of it. I am Dram, the Widowmaker, the undefeated. And after I've killed you and your friends, I'll lead the forces that will drive your rebellion back into the gutter, where it belongs. You never really stood a chance. You're scum, the lowest of the low, the dirt under our boots. Step forward, Deathstalker, and I'll cut your stupid head off and stick it on a pike."

"Damn," said Hazel. "He makes even longer speeches than you do, Owen."

"Not to worry," said Owen. "I'll soon put a stop to that."

"No," said Giles Deathstalker, putting a staying hand on Owen's arm as he started forward. "This one belongs to me." He stepped forward, and Dram fell into a warrior's crouch, sword at the ready. Giles shook his head. "Amateur. You're not Dram, whoever you are. Dram was my son, and I trained him to be a far better swordsman than you'll ever be. I killed him, on Haden. It was necessary. When I walked in here, and saw you standing by the Throne, I knew I'd have to do it again. Killing my son almost destroyed me, but I don't think I'll have any problem killing a clone."

Dram looked at him strangely. "You're my father! I never knew. Lionstone never told me. I never knew I had a Family. You mean I'm a Deathstalker, too?"

"No," said Giles. "You're just a clone."

"Wait," said Dram. "We have to talk about this."

"No we don't," said Giles. "You're not my son. You're not even human. How dare you wear my son's face?"

He aimed his disrupter and shot Dram right in the face. The energy blast tore the clone's head off his body, which crumpled slowly to the floor. Lionstone looked at Giles, shocked. He smiled coldly at her. "What did you expect? Another duel? Another matter of honor, settled sword to sword? I've done that. This wasn't anything as clean as a killing. Just exterminating some garbage that should never have existed in the first place."

He turned away, put up a hand to stop Owen when he moved forward to comfort him, and walked a little away, to be by himself. Lionstone sat speechlessly on her Throne, looking at the headless corpse lying at her feet. Captain Silence and Investigator Frost looked at each other.

"Looks like it's down to us, Investigator."

"Not for the first time, Captain."

Silence nodded to Lionstone. "We've been through a lot of changes, Your Majesty, whether we wanted them or not, but our loyalty has never been in question. And if we kept our powers to ourselves, it was only so we could serve you better. Come on, Frost, time to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat one more time." He smiled at Owen and Hazel. "And we do have some unfinished business, you and I, don't we?"

"Damn right," said Hazel, sweeping her sword back and forth before her like a cat twitching its tail.

"Daddy…" said Jenny.

"I'm sorry," said Silence. "But this is a matter of duty. And I've always known my duty."

"Damn it, we don't have time for all this posing," said Ruby Journey. "If I wanted to watch fencing displays and grudge matches, I'd go to the Arena, so I could do it in a comfortable seat with a cold drink and a big bag of peanuts. We're supposed to be fighting a rebellion here. This is just keeping us from the more important things. Like looting. Head up, Lionstone. Giles had the right idea."

And she raised her disrupter and opened fire on the Empress. But even as Ruby was taking aim, Stelmach shouted something incoherent and threw himself between Ruby and the Empress. He took the energy blast high on the chest. It tore away his right arm and vaporized much of the upper right side of his chest, leaving him lying twitching and moaning at the foot of the Throne. Silence and Frost were quickly there at his side, but it was clear the Security Officer was dying. He put out his remaining hand to Silence, who took it firmly in his.

"All I ever wanted… was to serve," said Valiant Stelmach. "To be loyal. To give my life for the Empress."

"No one ever doubted your loyalty," said Silence, but he was saying it to a dead man. He gently placed Stelmach's hand on his chest and patted it twice, saying good-bye.

"Pity," said Frost. "He was a good man, in his way."

"I'm surprised you cared," said Silence.

"I liked him," said Frost. "He was a coward, a weakling, and probably harbored rebel sympathies, but he did his best to be brave and do the right thing anyway. It's easy for us to be brave, with our training and abilities. All he had was guts. And a willingness to die for his Empress."

"And now it's our turn," said Silence. He got to his feet. Frost beside him, and together they took up their places before the Throne. Silence smiled once at Jenny, then nodded to Owen. "Let's do it, Deathstalker."

Owen stepped up to face Silence, and Hazel moved forward to face Frost. Owen hefted his sword casually. "From what I've been hearing, Captain, you and the Investigator gained abilities similar to ours from the Madness Maze. Which means we could raise our powers, go head-to-head, reduce the Court to rubble, and kill everyone in it, and still end up in a stalemate. So what say we do this the honorable way. Just sword to sword. How does that sound to you?"

"Honorable," said Silence. "And what I'd expect from a Deathstalker. Besides, we've always wanted to know which of us is better with a blade, haven't we?"

"Damn right," said Frost.

"Then let's do it," said Hazel. "One last fight, as humans. Before we forget how."

And so they went forward to meet each other, the last great champions of Empire and rebellion, four good people whose differing beliefs could not be reconciled, only decided at the point of a sword. Owen and Silence circled each other slowly, their swords clashing lightly, tip to tip, as they studied each other's style for openings and vulnerabilities. Hazel and Frost went straight at each other, hacking and cutting, slamming their blades together, fueled by a rivalry that was stronger than hate or rage.

Owen and Silence stamped and lunged and recovered, both of them cold and calculating, testing their strength and skills to the limits, both trained in harsh and unforgiving schools. Their blades crashed together, sparks flying on the air, neither man prepared to give an inch or retreat a step. Their swords flew so fast the eye could barely keep up, driven by skills and reflexes almost too quick for human thought. Owen didn't boost. It never occurred to him. He wanted to win this one fairly. He was fighting for a set of ideals, his own as well as the rebellion's, and either he won fairly, or his whole life had no meaning. Silence put all his strength into every blow, all his speed into every cut and parry, and still had to struggle to match the Deathstalker's attacks. The young rebel fought as though his life no longer mattered, only the winning. Silence tried to feel that way, too. The whole Empire depended on him now. Everything he'd ever believed in and fought for. Everything that had given his life shape and meaning. But in the end, his surety wasn't as certain as Owen's, and perhaps that was why his sword was finally just that fraction slower, and Owen beat his blade aside, stepped forward, and set the point of his sword at Silence's throat. For a long moment the two men just stood there, face-to-face, breathing hard from their exertions. They looked into each other's eyes, and recognized what they saw there.

"I can't kill you," Owen said finally. "It would be like killing myself. Surrender, Captain. Put down your sword, and I guarantee your safety. The rebellion's going to need someone like you to help us rebuild."

"My loyalty…"

"Is to the people of the Empire. Help us preserve the best, so we don't throw it out along with the bad."

Captain John Silence looked back at his Empress, then around at the Hell she'd made of her Court, and slowly opened his hand and let his sword drop to the floor. It made hardly any sound. Owen lowered his blade. They nodded respectfully to each other, then turned to look at Hazel d'Ark and Investigator Frost. They'd dueled each other to a standstill, standing face-to-face, breathing hard and harsh, swords shaking in their exhausted hands. Their eyes were as fierce as ever, but they had driven themselves beyond strength or stamina, and they were both too proud to draw on their unnatural strength and skills.

"Give it up, Hazel," said Owen. "You're never going to win, either of you. And neither of you is ever going to yield. You're too alike. Call it a day, and let's get on with what we came here for."

Hazel considered it, frowning thoughtfully as sweat dripped off her face. "What the hell," she said finally. "We can always try this again later, when we've got more time. What do you say, Investigator? I'll step back if you will."

"Never," said Frost. "I'm an Investigator. The Empire made me what I am. I'll never give up, never give in. Kill me if you can, rebel."

"It doesn't have to be this way," said Owen.

"Yes it does," said Frost. "This is my life. My meaning. My purpose. I'll never back down. It's not in me. Kill me if you can."

Hazel lowered her sword. "I can't. Not like this."

"I can," said Kit SummerIsle. And in a movement so fast no one recognized it till it was too late, he drew a hidden dagger and threw it at Frost with all his strength behind it. She turned slightly as he spoke, and the knife took her in the throat. Blood spurted thickly, running down her chest in streams. She dropped her sword and clutched at her throat with both hands. Blood welled between her fingers. She started to pull the knife free, and then sat down suddenly as the strength went out of her. Silence was quickly there at her side, holding her in his arms. She shuddered uncontrollably, and he held her tighter. She looked shocked, confused, as though she couldn't believe this was happening to her.

"Stupid way to die," she said, her voice thick and labored. Blood sprayed from her mouth in a fine red mist. "I feel cold. So cold."

"I've got you, Frost," said Silence. "I'm right here."

"Never thought… it would end like this."

"Hush," said Silence. "Save your strength till we can get a medic in here."

"No," said Frost. "We never lied to each other, Captain. Don't start now."

"Then heal yourself! I did!"

"Too late, Captain. Too late."

"You were a good soldier," said Silence, his voice breaking. "The best, right to the end."

"Of course. I'm an Investigator. John…"

"Yes?" said Silence, but the breath just went out of her in a long bloody sigh, and she was gone. Silence hugged her to him. "Good soldier. Good soldier." Eventually he let her go and got to his feet. His uniform was soaked with her blood. He looked at the SummerIsle, who smiled back at him.

"Why?" said Silence. "Why her, and not me?"

"You killed my David," said Kit. "Now you know what I felt. Want to try and kill me now, old man?"

"Not right now," said Silence. "There's been enough killing here. And she never would have surrendered. Just stay out of my sight, killer."

He turned away to face Owen and Hazel, as though he didn't know what to do next. Stelmach and Frost were dead, and he had repudiated his Empress. It didn't seem possible that his whole life could have been destroyed in such a short time.

"I'm sorry about the Investigator," said Owen. "Sometimes, it just isn't possible for everyone to win."

"You loved her, didn't you?" said Hazel. "Did you ever tell her?"

"She wouldn't have known how to answer me," said Silence. "She was an Investigator."

There was nothing more to say, so they all turned to look at Lionstone, alone on her Throne. She glared back at them defiantly. All her champions were dead or defeated, but she still hadn't given up. It was an almost perfect moment of opposition, and it hung endlessly on the air, as though neither side wanted to break it. Hell had grown very quiet. The angel guards were dead, the maids-in-waiting were human again, and even the hologram illusions were still, as though waiting to see what would happen next. Owen moved slowly forward to stand alone at the foot of the Iron Throne. He'd come a long way to reach this place, this moment. To stand before the woman who'd destroyed his life and taken away everything he'd ever had or cared for. Because of her he'd been sent wandering through the Empire, always running from the hounds on his trail, never to feel safe or secure again. Because of her he'd been forced to become someone he still wasn't sure he approved of, the kind of man his Family had always wanted him to be—a warrior. Fighting for a cause he wasn't always sure he really believed in. But every time he wavered, all he had to do was remember a young girl lying bloodied on the Mistport snows, crippled by his sword, crying helplessly till he killed her out of mercy. Time to end it all, now. He nodded almost familiarly to the Empress.

"It's over, Lionstone. Time to go. Step down."

"No," said Giles. "Not yet. It isn't over till I say it's over. Step away from the Throne, Owen. This isn't your moment; it's mine."

Everyone turned to look at him. The old warrior in his barbarian's furs, the legendary hero of centuries past, stood calmly a little distance away from the others, his sword in his hand. He smiled at them, and something in that smile made them all shiver. He lifted his blade and set the edge against his mercenary's scalplock. He sawed through the thick hair with ease, and then held it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment, before throwing it away.

"That's it," he said calmly. "No more a mercenary. No more fighting for other men's causes. I am my own man again, the Deathstalker, and I will take the crown now, as it was always meant I should. I will be Emperor, and put things right again. I'm the only one who understands what needs to be done to restore the Empire. To make it strong again, before the aliens or the Hadenmen or Shub rise up to destroy Humanity. The people will follow me. They've always had a soft spot for heroes and legends. I will remake the old Empire, as it was a thousand years ago, before the rot set in. No more clones or espers or other genetic abominations. It was always meant that the Empire should be a human Empire."

He smiled at Owen in a fatherly fashion. "It was always meant to be me, Owen. I knew when I went into stasis, 943 years ago, that I would have to plan for the long term. Step outside of time, so I could wait to return till the odds were in my favor again. All during that time, the computers in my Standing monitored events and maintained contact with my Clan. They planned and plotted, shaping events, preparing for my eventual return. Your father was the last contact, Owen. A very adroit agent. He set the final plans in motion—funded the rebels on Mistworld, created the Abraxus Information Center, and was finally planning a trip to Shandrakor to wake me when he made a misstep, drew attention to himself at just the wrong moment, and the Empress sent Kid Death to put an end to his intrigues.

"It was a major blow. Your father had always been meant to be the leader of the coming rebellion, a warrior-politician with the legendary Deathstalker name. The people would have followed him, as he prepared them for my return. But then he was gone, and I had no choice but to replace him with you, a feeble historian who never even wanted to be the warrior his inheritance demanded.

"To temper the steel that will become a sword blade, you beat the hell out of it and test it almost to the point of destruction. So I tempered you. It wasn't difficult for some of my agents to convince Lionstone to outlaw you, and thus set you on the path that would eventually bring you to me. The Maze… confused things. It was only ever intended that I should pass through the Maze and gain the powers it promised but under the pressure of events I had no choice but to allow you and your companions to pass through, too. You were never meant to become superhuman, like me. Still, you haven't turned out too badly, Owen. I've made you a warrior in spite of yourself. A credit to your Family name. But now it's time for you to step aside.

"It was never meant to be you, boy. This is my moment, my destiny. I will be Emperor, as it was always meant I should."

Owen stared at Giles for a long moment, and then shook his head. "To hell with that. I didn't come this far, spill this much blood, just to replace one tyrant with another. Even if he is Family. Put down your sword, Giles. You left it too late. Your time is over; we do things differently now. The rebellion grew from the clone and esper undergrounds, not your meddling. We've had enough of Families and Emperors. It's time for… something new."

Giles slowly advanced on Owen, who raised his sword warningly. Giles stopped. "Don't do this, boy. Don't make me kill you."

"You wouldn't really kill me," said Owen. "Not your own Family. The last of your descendants. The last Deathstalker."

"I can always start a new line," said Giles calmly. "I never promised you wealth or fame or an easy death, Owen. Just a chance to be a legend. Whether that's a living legend is up to you. I am… fond of you, in my way. The last of my original line. My child, in every way that matters. Don't get in my way, boy. I've done… awful things, terrible things. I created the Darkvoid Device and put out a thousand suns. This is my chance to atone, to put things right. To make things the way they should be. Don't take that away from me. You've come a long way, fought well, tried hard to do the right thing, uphold the Family name. I love you, Owen."

"I don't care!" said Owen, and swung his sword double-handed at Giles's neck. Giles's sword swept up to meet Owen's, and sparks flew as the blades crashed together. In a moment they were circling each other, eyes narrowed, searching for a weakness to exploit. Everyone else stayed back. They understood this was personal. Still, Hazel held her disrupter down by her side. She knew Owen would never forgive her if she interfered in the fight, but she'd already decided that if Giles won and Owen died, she was going to shoot Giles in the back of the head, and to hell with the consequences.

Owen and Giles could have used their Maze-given powers, but they didn't. This was a Family matter. They stamped and lunged and parried, swords flashing in and out, surprisingly evenly matched. Giles was the first Warrior Prime, a legendary swordsman, but as he said, Owen had come a long way. The once insular historian and scholar had been plunged into battle after battle, refining and expanding his skills all the time, until he was every bit the legendary swordsman, too. It was, after all, his inheritance. The two men fought to their limits, pushing their strength and speed into the inhuman levels of boost and beyond without even noticing.

And so they went on, hacking and cutting at each other, drawing blood after blood, neither able to slam home a blow serious enough to cause a mortal hurt. They both grew tired and measurably slower as even their immense strength began to run out. And for the first time it occurred to Giles that just possibly he might not win this battle. No one had tested him like this since the days of his prime. He could lose. But that was an intolerable thought, and not to be allowed. He hadn't waited 943 years to be denied his destiny by an upstart descendant. He scowled, and reached inwardly for his Maze-given powers. All he had to do was teleport behind Owen and run him through, and the fight would be over. Honor had become irrelevant, in the scheme of things. But reach as hard as he might, he couldn't find his power. It was blocked, canceled out by Owen's powers. On some basic level, Giles slowly realized that neither of them could use his powers against another altered by the Maze. It was a safety guard, installed by the Maze, the knowledge only to be revealed when necessary.

Giles was shaken. He'd grown used to depending on his powers, to having an unbeatable ace up his sleeve. He quickly brought himself back under control. If he couldn't win that way, there were other ways. Giles hadn't become a legendary warrior without learning a few dirty tricks along the way. The SummerIsle had had the right idea. Like Kit, Giles had a hidden dagger. He'd never told Owen about it. Never saw the need. All he had to do was lure Owen in close and stick the dagger in while the boy was distracted. Simple. Owen would never expect him to use a dirty trick like Kid Death's. Giles smiled.

And so he carefully maneuvered Owen into a corps a corps, making him think it was his idea, and the two men came face-to-face, glaring at each other over the crossed swords, so close their panting breaths moved in and out of each other's mouths. They were both pushing with all their strength, legs braced, holding them where they were.

Giles locked eyes with Owen, holding his attention, while his free hand surreptitiously drew his hidden dagger. He smiled at Owen, and thrust it up into Owen's ribs. Only to meet Owen's golden Hadenman hand coming down to block it. The steel blade shattered on the golden hand. And Giles realized Owen had been waiting for just such a trick. He lurched forward, off-balance, and Owen slammed his head forward and head-butted Giles in the face. There was a loud crack as Giles's nose broke, and he staggered backwards, blood spilling down over his mouth. And in that moment of confusion and indecision, it was the easiest thing in the world for Owen to step forward and run Giles through.

For a moment they stared at each other over Owen's extended sword. Giles's sword dropped to the floor as his fingers grew numb. He looked down at the sword protruding from his chest, but he did not fall. Owen wondered crazily if he'd have to cut off the man's head to finish him. And then Giles's legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. Owen pulled his sword out, and Giles fell forward onto his face and lay still. Owen stood over his dead ancestor, breathing hard. Hazel came forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm the last one now," said Owen. "There were only ever Giles and David and me, and now I'm the only one left. The last of the Deathstalkers."

"How very touching," said Lionstone from her Throne. Her voice was brittle, but still controlled. "Well, much as I enjoy watching my enemies slaughter each other in front of me, I think it's time I brought this nonsense to an end. Didn't it ever occur to you that I might have foreseen such a situation as this, and planned accordingly? I have insurance, you see, a little something I put aside for a rainy day. To be exact—a planet-buster bomb, buried deep in the planet's core, right next to the geothermal tap that powers my Palace. Yes, I know, such things have been banned for centuries, but I never let a little thing like that bother me. All it takes is a simple activation code from me, and Golgotha will blow apart into so much glowing rubble. So either all of you surrender to me unconditionally, right now, or I'll take you and this world and your precious rebellion down into Hell with me. Your choice. Which is more important, your victory, or the billions of people who will die with us?"

Silence looked at her, shocked. "You wouldn't destroy the homeworld of Humanity!"

Lionstone smiled. "Try me."

Ruby looked at Random. "What do you think? Is she bluffing?"

"I doubt it," said Random. "After all, one of her ancestors gave the order to use the Darkvoid Device. And she's just desperate and crazy enough to see death as a victory. If she can't play with the toys, at least she can make sure no one else will have them."

"She's bluffing," said Kid Death. "I'll kill her, if you're not up to it."

"Hold it!" said Owen. "Odds are the bomb's booby-trapped to go off if she dies."

"How well you know me," said Lionstone.

"We can't surrender," said Hazel. "Not after all we've been through. Not after we've got so close!"

"What else can we do?" said Owen. "We can't get to the bomb, and we can't let billions of innocent people die!"

"God, you guys go to pieces easily," said Jenny Psycho. She reached out with her mind and suddenly they were all linked, their Maze-given powers merging with hers into a white-hot flame that burned in all their minds. Their collective mind dropped through the floor of Hell, and plummeted down into the earth. Jenny leading the way as though born to it. Thousands of miles flashed by in a moment as they descended through the many layers of the planet, heading for the bomb at the heart of the world. It was well protected, but nothing could defy them now. They deactivated it with a thought, checked around to be sure there weren't any other nasty surprises, and then turned their back on the harmless device and surged up through the earth and back into Lionstone's Court.

"Wow," said Ruby. "Some trip."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Random said cheerfully to Lionstone, "but we just defused your bomb. All part of the service."

"You cheats!" Lionstone screamed, after she sent the activation codes and nothing happened. She rose up to stand on her Throne, and threw aside her battle armor, revealing her bare arms. Hidden disrupter implants suddenly rose up through the skin of her arms, and opened fire on the rebels. They threw themselves in all directions as energy beams flashed through the space where they'd been standing. More energy weapons emerged from Lionstone's body, poking their metal snouts out of her shoulders and rib cage. Long steel blades with serrated edges slid out of the backs of her hands. Of course she'd have implants, Owen thought as he hit the floor rolling. A paranoid like her would want to be prepared for anything. And she could afford the best.

He reached out with his mind to the others, and together they raised a force shield between them and the Throne. They'd done it once before, on the Wolfling World, and that shield had stood off the combined firepower of an Imperial pinnace at point-blank range. And so they stood their ground, unharmed, as Lionstone's weapons exhausted themselves against the force shield, and she had nothing left to throw at them. She screamed with rage and jumped down from her Throne. Owen reached out with the group's mind and psychokinetically seized all of Lionstone's implants and ripped them out of her body. She screamed again as her flesh tore open, and her implants burrowed up out through her skin and fell bloodily to the floor. Lionstone fell to the floor as well, eyes wild and staring, and clung desperately to the side of her Throne. She was panting heavily, only shock shielding her from what had been done to her. Owen dropped the force shield, and the group mind fell apart. He walked slowly forward to stand over Lionstone. She snarled up at him, mortally hurt and cornered, but still refusing to be beaten.

"You can't kill me, Deathstalker. I'm your Empress."

"I want to kill you, Lionstone," Owen said slowly. "You don't know how much I want to. For all the things you did to me, and to your people. For all the dead of Virimonde, and for all who lived in fear and pain because of you. But I won't kill you. That's your way. You're going to stand trial, Lionstone. Let the people judge you. It's their right, as your victims."

"Well done, Owen," said Hazel, as she came up beside him. "You finally got it right."

And then the floating viewscreens suddenly reappeared on the air around them, and turned themselves on. Young Jack Random's face appeared on every screen, smiling easily. Being dead didn't seem to have bothered him at all. "Hello, everyone," he said calmly. "We're using this face as you're familiar with it. For those of you who haven't been keeping up, I speak for the AIs of Shub. It's time for you to hear some of the truths we've been hiding from you. Shub owns the computer Matrix of Golgotha. We infiltrated it long ago, making contact with the AIs that were spontaneously generating in the Matrix, and used them to take control of the larger business entities as they evolved. All part of our plan to control Humanity through its own tech.

"Not only did we thus have access to all of Humanity's business information, which we manipulated to our own ends and for our own amusement, but we have also been destroying human minds as they entered the Matrix, occupying their empty bodies and sending them forth as spies. Even better and more undetectable than Furies. How does it feel, knowing we walk among you, unsuspected? People you'd know, too. We're everywhere. You can't trust anyone, these days. Still, I'm not here to chat. Dear Lionstone, you've looked better. But we can still save you from your enemies. You have a home with us on Shub, if you wish. You'll have to leave your body behind, but it's such a limited thing anyway. Open your mind to us, through your comm implants, and we'll do the rest. Come to Shub and live forever. You'll have to give up your Humanity, but you'll live forever."

"Anything for revenge," said Lionstone, and opened her comm implants. Something from outside seized her mind and tore it out of her body. Her consciousness surged up and out, leaving Golgotha and human cares and limitations behind. Her face replaced Young Jack's on all the viewscreens, laughing triumphantly, and then she was gone, and the screens shut down again. It was very quiet in the Court. The rebels moved slowly forward and looked down at Lionstone's body, lying bloodied and broken before the Iron Throne. It was still breathing. They all looked at each other, and then Kit SummerIsle leaned over and cut off her head.

"For you, David," he said softly, and he straightened up holding the head up by the hair for the others to see. "Just in case. And we'll want something to show the people. Let them think her dead and gone. It's for the best."

"Er, sorry," said Toby Shreck from the back, where everyone had forgotten about him. "But this has all being going out live through Flynn's camera, remember? The whole Empire's been watching this."

"Right," said Flynn. "Got some great close-ups, too."

"Ah well," said Random. "At least now they know what kind of creature they had for an Empress."

Owen shook his head. "Great. More problems. You realize we're going to have to send the cyberats into the Matrix to clean it out before we can use it? Assuming they're as good as they claim they are."

"What about the AIs in human form?" said Ruby. "Now that is one hell of a spooky thought. They said we'd know some of them."

"They probably just said that to mess with our heads," said Hazel.

"Are you ready to put money on that?" said Ruby.

"Either way," said Random. "The struggle isn't over, just because Lionstone's no longer on the Iron Throne. Right, Owen? Owen?"

They all looked round, to where Owen was standing at the foot of the Throne. Lionstone's diamond crown had fallen off when Kit decapitated the empty body, and it was lying right at his feet. It filled his sight. The crown that ruled the Empire. He stood there, in the abandoned Court, blood dripping from the sword in his hand, at the end of his quest, and what did he have to show for it all? He could pick up the crown, place it on his head, and declare himself Emperor. He could. He was the last Deathstalker, almost as big a legend as the original. Hero of the rebellion, Redeemer of the lost Hadenmen, Savior of Mistworld. There were any number of people and causes he could count on to support him, for their various reasons. He could be Emperor. He might have to kill or imprison a few old friends, abandon a few beliefs, but he could rule the Empire. Put things right. Make it over in his image. He reached down and picked up the crown.

"Well?" said Hazel quietly, at his side. "Do you want it?"

Owen weighed the crown in his hands, and then let it drop to the floor. "No. It's too heavy for me."

"You have a legitimate claim," Random said carefully.

"No," said Owen. "I was tempted, but only for a moment. I never wanted to be a ruler, any more than I wanted to be a warrior. Maybe now this is all over, I'll be allowed to go back to being an historian and scholar again, of no importance to anyone but myself. It's all I ever really wanted." He looked at the Iron Throne. "No more crowns. No more Thrones. They corrupt people, bringing out the worst in them. Even good people, like Giles." He clenched his fists and glared at the Throne. It cracked apart from top to bottom, and collapsed into dark broken pieces. "No more Thrones. No more rulers. It's time we ruled ourselves."

"Well said, Owen," said Jack Random, moving forward to clap him on the shoulder. "But it's not over yet, for you or me. The aliens are still out there. And Shub... Someone's got to rebuild the Empire and make Humanity strong again. We're going to be needed more than ever."

"You know, we never did decide just what kind of system we're going to replace the Empire with," said Hazel. "There are a lot of people in the rebellion who had nothing in common but a desire to bring Lionstone down. I foresee a lot of arguments and raised voices in the near future."

"Good," said Random. "Healthy debate is the cornerstone of democracy."

"And if we don't like what they're saying, we can always kick their asses," said Ruby. Random looked at her. Ruby raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That is a problem for tomorrow," said Owen. "Savor today's victory. We paid enough for it, in blood and the loss of friends and loved ones."

"Some of us are still here," said Hazel.

"Quite right," said Owen. And he took her in his arms and kissed her. Hazel pulled back.

"Don't take too much for granted, stud." And then she kissed him.

"Zoom in for a close-up," Toby whispered to Flynn. "Don't you just love a happy ending?"