Deathstalker War Page 3

  “Great,” said Steel, entirely unmoved. “Another bloody hero. We get a lot through here. They come and they go, and nothing ever changes.”

  “Ah,” said Random, grinning broadly. “But they’re not Jack Random.”

  To Owen’s surprise, Steel grinned back. Jenny Psycho stepped forward suddenly. “In case anyone’s forgotten, I’m still here,” she said loudly. “I represent the Mater Mundi, Our Mother of All Souls.”

  “Congratulations,” said Topaz. “You’re the tenth this month. It’s the most common confidence trick in Mistport. Probably because so many people are desperate to believe in it. If you weren’t with Jack Random, I’d have you thrown in gaol on general principles. So keep your head down and don’t make waves. Is that clear?”

  Jenny Psycho’s eyes blazed suddenly with an inner light, shining from her face like spotlights. Loose energy sparked and crackled on the air around her, as her power stirred within her. Her presence beat on the air like the wings of a giant bird, forcing them all back. Something lived deep within Jenny Psycho, something vast and powerful and not necessarily human, and it was awakening. Gideon Steel drew a gun. Investigator Topaz opened her mouth to sing. And Owen and Hazel threw themselves on Jenny and wrestled her to the ground. Her power lashed out at them, only to be met and swept aside by a greater power, as yet unfocused and untrained, but still more than enough to silence a mere esper who had only been touched in passing by something greater. Her presence shattered like a smashed mirror and was gone. Owen and Hazel cut off their power, rolled Jenny over, and pressed her face against the harsh surface of the landing pad. Owen sat on her, just in case, and smiled up at Steel and Topaz.

  “Don’t mind Jenny. She doesn’t travel well. Once you get to know her, she’s quite objectionable.”

  Steel sniffed and put away his gun. Topaz scowled. “Something happened then,” she said slowly. “I just caught the edges, but you two did something there. There’s more to you than meets the eye, Deathstalker.”

  “There would have to be,” said Steel. “Welcome to Mistworld, people, and keep that esper on a short leash, or I’ll have her muzzled. The man lurking in the background behind us, and carefully staying out of harm’s way, is John Silver, our current head of starport Security. He’ll look after you during your stay, and do his best to keep you out of trouble, if he ever wants to see his pension. Best of luck in your various missions, and if anything goes wrong I don’t want to hear about it. Don’t bother popping in to say good-bye before you leave. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Topaz and I have work to do.”

  And with that the two of them turned and walked away, disappearing back into the concealing fog. John Silver glared after them, made a rude noise and a ruder gesture, and strolled forward to introduce himself with an easy smile. “Don’t take it personally; they’re like that with everyone. Mostly with good reason, but that’s Mistport for you. Hello, Hazel, good to you see again.”

  “Good to see you, you old pirate,” said Hazel, grinning, and stepped forward to hug Silver tightly. Owen was almost shocked. Hazel wasn’t usually a touchy-feely kind of person. He took the opportunity to study Mistport’s head of Security. Silver was tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp-edged youthful features, and wore thick, superbly cut furs topped with the scarlet cloak of the esper. He wore a simple short sword on his hip, in a well-worn leather scabbard, but Owen had no doubt the man also had a gun or two hidden under those furs somewhere. He looked the type. He also looked like he was enjoying the hug entirely too much. Silver and Hazel finally broke apart and stepped back to hold each other at arm’s length.

  “Looking good, Hazel. Robbed anyone interesting recently?”

  “You’d be surprised. How the hell did a rogue like you get to be head of starport Security? That’s like setting a starving wolf to guard a flock of sheep.”

  Silver shrugged amiably, not insulted. “Even the fiercest wolf has to settle down and turn respectable eventually. We lost a lot of good people here during the esper plague, including most of my superiors. Typhoid Mary killed or brainburned them all in the space of a few days, and when she was finally taken down, I was the only one left standing. To everyone’s surprise, including my own, I’ve been doing a good and mostly honest job ever since. Mostly because there’s so much work to be done that I haven’t the time or the energy to be crooked.”

  “Never thought I’d hear you say that,” said Hazel, laughing. She looked back, and realized Owen was studying them thoughtfully. “Owen, get up off Jenny and come and meet an old friend.” Owen got up carefully. Jenny stayed where she was, breathing harshly. Hazel grinned. “Owen, allow me to present an old confidant of mine. Ex-pirate, confidence trickster, lawyer, and occasional female impersonator when money gets short. Generally a good comrade to have with you, on either side of the law. Particularly if you’re working a swindle. Best innocent-faced liar I ever knew.”

  “Which is why I’m so good at my present job,” said Silver calmly. “Takes one liar to spot another. And I know all the tricks, because I’ve used most of them in my time.”

  “This is all very charming and picaresque,” said Random, “but I have business to be about.”

  “Oh sure,” said Silver. “Hang around, and I’ll get you a map and some guards.”

  “No need. I know my way around Mistport. And I’ve never needed guarding.” He bowed politely to them all, even Jenny, then strode confidently off into the fog, his straight back radiating strength and purpose.

  “Impressive,” said Silver. “I just hope he doesn’t get mugged and rolled. We’d never hear the end of it.”

  “I have my own mission, too,” said Jenny Psycho icily. Everyone looked round sharply, as they realized she’d got to her feet without being noticed. If anything, she looked even more dangerous than she had before. “I don’t need a map or guards either. Just stay out of my way.”

  She stalked off into the fog, and the mists rolled aside to get out of her path. They closed again after her, and she was quickly gone. Hazel shook her head slowly.

  “You know, I could have sworn we were supposed to work as a team.”

  “Don’t let it bother you,” said Owen. “Personally, I feel a lot safer with them gone. Neither of them would get my vote for mental health poster child of the year.”

  “You’re missing the point, as usual,” said Hazel. “God knows how much damage Jenny Psycho will cause on her own, and I particularly wanted to stick close to Jack Random, in the hope of spotting something that would prove whether he’s the real thing or not.”

  “I thought you were sure he’s a fake?”

  “I am. But proof would be nice.”

  “We could always go after him.”

  “No we couldn’t. Then he’d know for sure that we don’t trust him.”

  “I hate reasoning like that,” said Owen. “You can argue all day and still end up running in circles. We could be wrong about him, you know.”

  “Hold everything,” said Silver. “Are you telling me there’s a chance that wasn’t the real Jack Random?”

  “We’re still deciding,” said Hazel. “Let’s just say we have doubts.”

  “But he looks the part,” said Silver. “Every inch a hero and a warrior.”

  “Precisely,” said Owen. “He’s too perfect. Real life isn’t like that.”

  “Paranoia,” said Hazel, smiling. “A game for the whole family, and anyone else who might be watching. Let’s get out of the cold and find somewhere warm before my toes drop off.”

  Owen glanced approvingly round Silver’s private quarters as he sank into a deeply comfortable chair by an open fire. The ex-pirate Security chief lived in a fair amount of comfort, by Mistport standards. There were a number of high-tech appliances, including electric lighting, rare on a world where all forms of high tech had to be smuggled in past Empire blockades, at great cost to buyer and seller. Either head of port Security paid really well, or Silver hadn’t entirely given up on his old piratical ways. Hazel sat opp
osite Owen, frowning into the dancing flames of the fire. She looked tired and drawn, and older than her years. Something was troubling her, but Owen had more sense than to ask what. She’d only bite his head off. She’d tell him when she was ready, or not at all.

  Silver bustled about being the perfect host, making sure his guests were comfortable, chatting cheerfully about inconsequential things, and pressing large mugs of mulled wine on Hazel and Owen. Hazel just held hers, making no attempt to try it, so Owen took a gulp of his, just to be polite. Normally he couldn’t stand mulled wine, but this proved to be easy on the palate and hotly spiced, leaving a pleasant warmth behind as it sank past his throat and chest and headed for his stomach. He nodded thankfully to Silver, who pulled up a chair facing his guests and looked at them inquiringly.

  “Fill us in on what’s been happening recently,” said Owen, when a long pause made it clear Hazel wasn’t going to start the ball rolling. “We weren’t here long enough to ask questions on our last visit. What’s this about a Typhoid Mary and an esper plague?”

  “The Empire smuggled her in,” said Silver. “She was an extremely powerful rogue esper, primed and conditioned to kill other espers. People fell dying and brain-burned all across the city, and where she passed children woke screaming from their dreams and would not be comforted. She destroyed a lot of good people before she was finally brought down. The Empire’s plan had been to kill so many espers that the psionic screen which protects Mistworld would collapse, and the Imperial Fleet could move in at will. That didn’t happen. But we came bloody close . . .”

  “What happened after she was captured?” said Hazel, not looking up from the fire.

  “We deconditioned her,” said Silver. “It wasn’t her fault. She’d been programmed by mind techs. She works for us now.”

  “And you trust her?” said Owen. “The Empire could have planted all kinds of control words in her subconscious. She wouldn’t even know they were there till someone triggered them.”

  “There were quite a few. We found them. This is an esper world, Deathstalker. The depths of the mind hold no secrets from us.”

  “How much damage did she cause?” said Owen.

  “Lots. We’re still clearing up. Many people in important positions were either killed or brainburned, and for a long time there was chaos in the city as various factions fought for control. The worst of that is over, praise the good Lord, but there’s still a lot of jockeying for position going on. Watch your backs while you’re here. There’s a lot of people who’d kill both of you just so that someone else couldn’t have you.”

  “So,” said Hazel, finally turning to look at Silver. “You’re doing all right for yourself then, John?”

  “I’m doing fine,” said Silver, blinking slightly at the sudden change of subject.

  “Better than fine. These quarters are a damn sight cosier than that rathole you used to hide out in down by the docks. No, I take that back, now I come to think of it, rats wouldn’t have lived there for fear of catching something.”

  “Head of port Security is a plum job,” said Silver easily. “As long as I keep things nice and peaceful, no one looks too closely at how I do it. So, on the one hand, I crack down hard on the kind of people I used to be, and on the other, I salt away a little here and there, to supplement my pension. It’s a hard life, but someone’s got to do it.”

  “Aren’t you worried about Director Steel finding out?” said Owen, not sure whether he should be shocked or not. This was Mistport, after all.

  “Him? He’s a bigger crook than I am! No, the one I have to watch out for is Investigator Topaz. If she ever gets anything on me, I won’t live to stand trial. In fact, if she ever even looks like getting close, it’s me for the mountains on the first gravity sled I can beg, borrow, or steal. How someone that honest ever ended up on Mistworld is beyond me.”

  “Law-abiding sort, is she?” said Hazel innocently.

  Silver shuddered, and not from the cold. “That woman is so straight she even distrusts her own shadow. Luckily, she’s usually busy chasing bigger fish than me. Let me give you some idea of the kind of person we’re discussing here. Did either of you happen to notice the hole in the back of her cloak?”

  “Yeah,” said Owen. “Disrupter burn. I take it she wasn’t wearing the cloak at the time?”

  “No. Her husband was. Someone shot him in the back, at point-blank range. She found the killer, and killed him slowly, but she still wears the cloak, and she never had the hole mended. What kind of person would do that?”

  “Cold, obsessed, unswerving,” said Hazel. “An Investigator in other words.”

  “Let’s change the subject,” said Silver. “Before I start looking over my shoulder and jumping at sudden noises. Jack Random and that Psycho woman took off on their own missions. What are you here for? Or aren’t you allowed to tell me?”

  “It’s no big deal,” said Hazel. “I’m here to make contact with the Council on behalf of the Golgotha underground. It should have been someone else, but plans got changed at the last minute, and I was the only one who didn’t run away fast enough, so I got volunteered. Owen’s here to hunt down an old information-gathering network his father set up in Mistport some years ago. You can make a move when you’re ready, Deathstalker. I’m going to spend some time with Silver before I get started.”

  Owen frowned. “I thought we’d be sticking together. You know Mistport a lot better than I do.”

  “So what do you want me to do, aristo? Hold your hand?”

  “You heard what Silver said,” Owen said stubbornly. “We don’t have any friends out there, and our . . . link is unreliable.”

  “I can look after myself,” said Hazel. “So can you.”

  Owen scowled, nonplussed. It made no sense at all to split up when they both had so many old and new enemies to watch out for. He wondered for a moment if Silver might have been more than a friend in the past, and that was why he was being frozen out, but he didn’t think so. The body language was all wrong from both of them. But it was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Hazel while she was in this kind of mood. There was also no point in losing his temper. She’d always been better at throwing tantrums than he. He found it all so undignified. Besides, she didn’t look too good. She was sweating in the heat of the fire, and her mouth was set in a flat, ugly line. Owen pushed back his chair and got to his feet.

  “Well, if you’d rather waste time chatting with an old friend than getting on with the job we were sent here to do, I can’t stop you.”

  “Damn right you can’t. And don’t take that tone with me, Deathstalker. I know my duty, but I’ll take care of it in my own time and in my own way.”

  “Time is something we’re rather short of, Hazel. Or had you forgotten how closely the Empire has been dogging our heels?”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything! You stick to your mission and leave me to mine! Get out of here, aristo. I’m sick of looking at you. I don’t need you!”

  “No,” said Owen. “You’ve never needed anyone, have you?”

  He bowed curtly to Silver and stalked out of the room, not quite slamming the door behind him. The tense silence continued for a while, as Hazel glared at the closed door, and Silver studied her thoughtfully. He’d seen Hazel in many moods, but this was a new one on him. Clearly the Deathstalker, or at least his opinion, mattered to Hazel. Silver hoped she wasn’t falling for the outlawed aristocrat. Hazel had never been any good at handling affairs of the heart. She always got hurt in the end. He almost jumped as Hazel turned suddenly to face him, her eyes hot and fierce.

  “We’ve always been good friends, haven’t we, John?”

  “Of course we have. We’ve walked a lot of miles together.”

  “I need your help, John.”

  “It’s yours. Anything you want, just say the word.”

  “I need some Blood. Just a drop or two. Do you know where you can get some? Someone . . . discreet?”

  “If that’s what you
want.”

  “Yes, John. That’s what I want.”

  Silver pursed his lips. “The Deathstalker doesn’t know about this, does he?”

  “No. And you’re not to tell him. He wouldn’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do. I thought you were clear of that shit. I held your hand and sponged your brow and wiped your ass while you sweated the stuff out of your system the last time. I don’t want to have to do that again. It almost killed you, Hazel.”

  “I’m not talking about going back to being a plasma baby again! I’ve got it under control this time. I just need a drop, now and again. You don’t know what I’ve been through, John. You don’t know the pressure I’m under.”

  “I said I’d help you, Hazel. If Blood is what you need, I can get it for you. We all have the right to go to Hell in our own ways. As head of port Security, I have access to all drugs seized from incoming ships. No one will miss a few drops.” He paused. “Are you sure about this, Hazel?”

  “Oh yes. I have to have something in my life I can depend on.”

  Young Jack Random strode unhurriedly through the streets of Mistport, and no one bothered him. There was something in his unyielding stance and cold confidence that persuaded people to keep their distance. That, and the energy gun he wore openly on his hip. Only the real movers and shakers in Mistport had access to energy guns. Random made his way into Merchants Quarter, in search of an old friend. Councillor Donald Royal had been one of Mistport’s greatest heroes in his younger days, and was an influential figure even now, in the autumn of his life.

  Random finally came to a halt before a soot-blackened old building in a part of the Quarter that had definitely known better days. Donald Royal could have afforded to live practically anywhere he chose in the city, but this had always been his home, and he wouldn’t move. Stubborn old man. Random stepped forward and knocked politely on the door. There was a long pause, and then he sensed he was being studied through a spyhole. He smiled charmingly at the door, and kept his hands well away from his weapons. The door swung open to reveal a striking young woman. As far as Random knew, she was a complete stranger, but he kept his smile going anyway. She was tall for a woman, with a tousled head of reddish-brown hair, falling in great curls to her shoulders. Her face was a little too broad to be pretty, but her strong bone structure gave her a harsh, sensual look. She held herself like a fighter, with a cold steady gaze and a mouth that gave away nothing. Her clothing was strictly functional, but well cut, and she carried an energy gun holstered on her hip. Random noted that her hand was resting on her belt next to the gun and cleared his throat politely.