Deathstalker d-1 Page 6

  "I'm Owen Deathstalker. Who are you, and why did you help me?"

  His voice sounded weak and thin to him, but if his rescuer noticed, it didn't show in her answer. "I'm Hazel d'Ark. How I got here's rather complicated. I rescued you because I didn't like the odds you were facing. I've always had a soft spot for the underdog. What did you do to get so many people mad at you?"

  "I've been outlawed. There's a very attractive price on my head, if you think you can take it."

  "Relax, stud. I'm an outlaw, too. No way I could collect your price without getting topped myself. There's a lot of us about these days, but then, that's the Iron Bitch for you. Deathstalker. That name rings a bell."

  "I should hope so," said Owen wryly. "I used to be Lord of this planet."

  Hazel whistled. "I'm impressed. I don't normally move in such high circles. Look, you got any ideas where I should point this tub? There are five ships right behind us and closing fast. I feel I should also point out this is a ship's escape pod, and my power cells are almost dead, so don't start getting ambitious. We've got maybe forty minutes of flight left, assuming I don't have to divert power to the energy shields."

  Owen hesitated. "You still haven't explained why you risked your ship and yourself to rescue me."

  "Underdogs have to learn to look out for each other because no one else will. An outlaw needs all the friends he can get. You'll learn that, if you survive this mess. Life as an outlaw can be very enlightening."

  "All right. Head due north. There should be a large lake about ten miles from here, unless I'm even more lost than I thought I was. Tell me when we get there."

  He lay back in the crash webbing and fought to clear his thoughts. He had an ally now, and a second chance at escape. If she could just get him to the Sunstrider, he might yet live to get his revenge after all. The thought stirred new strength in him, and he took a second look at his surroundings. Apart from the crash webbing, the control panels, and the bulkheads, there wasn't much to look at. It was all pretty minimalist, but it seemed solid enough. Presumably there wasn't much point in wasting frills and fancies on an escape pod.

  "It's been a long time since I traveled in anything this primitive," he said finally. "What does it run on: steam?"

  "Any more smart remarks like that and you can get out and push," said Hazel. "Don't knock this tub. It's saving your ass and mine. Okay, forward sensors report a large body of water dead ahead. Rear sensors report a whole mess of people coming after us in everything that flies. You'd better have a plan to get us out of this, Deathstalker, because I am fast running out of options."

  "Relax," said Owen. "I have an ace up my sleeve and it's a beauty. In fact, she's waiting for us at the bottom of that lake."

  Hazel looked across at him sharply. "Wait a minute; we're going diving?"

  "You got it. My private yacht is sitting in its own little niche right at the bottom, hidden from everything but heavy-duty sensors. No one knows it's there but me. Had a feeling it might come in handy someday. Paranoia doesn't just run in my Family, it gallops. Part of the territory that comes with being a Lord. Drop this thing in the lake and head straight down. I'll contact the yacht, lower her shields and start powering her up. Your sensors will pick up the Sunstrider once you get close enough. Slip in next to her and fasten on to the outer airlock.

  "She's special, my Sunstrider. Has all the power and facilities we'll need to make our escape, and then some. Once we're up and moving, nothing's going to catch us. Got her own hyperdrive, based on a new, more powerful design that was only recently discovered. Only a dozen ships fitted with it so far, and none of them anywhere near here. Cost a fortune, but I've always believed in going for the best. Take us down, please."

  Hazel shook her head, smiling. "How the other three percent lives. Going down, Deathstalker. You'd better be right about this."

  "Trust me. Have I ever lied to you?"

  "How would I know?"

  Owen laughed quietly as Hazel sent the escape pod plunging beneath the waters of the lake. Hazel watched the sensor panels carefully as the pod sank slowly through the dark waters, and then she leaned forward suddenly. Huge forms were rising up out of the depths toward the craft. They were hundreds of feet long, and according to the sensors, very much alive. They reached the escape pod in seconds and circled around it, moving unsettlingly quickly for things so large. Hazel's hands itched for some kind of weapon, but the beasts didn't seem to be attacking the craft or even warning it off. In fact, if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn they were escorting the ship down… A thought occurred to her, and she looked across at Owen.

  "According to the sensors, we've picked up an escort. Whatever they are, they're disturbingly large and quite definitely alive. Would you know anything about this?"

  He smiled tiredly. 'They're behemoths, from Virimonde's oceans. I had the lake seeded with a breeding pair to discourage people from using the lake. I didn't want any diving teams stumbling over my hidden ship. I understand fishing along the shores of the lake has become regarded as a danger sport. The locals play it up as a tourist attraction. I should have applied for a percentage."

  Hazel looked at him dubiously. "Then why aren't these things attacking us?"

  "Because they're actually relatively harmless. They're big and ugly and have teeth like knives, but they're timid as hell. Say boo to them and they'd run a mile. Of course, I don't tell anyone that. There's nothing to worry about. They're probably just curious about us. Ignore them."

  Hazel looked as though she was about to say something cutting, so it was probably just as well that a flashing light on the sensor panels caught her attention. They'd found Owen's yacht. She eased the escape pod into position above it and then let the onboard computer oversee contact with the yacht's outer air lock. The behemoths circled hopefully above them for a few moments and then disappeared back into the dark waters.

  For a while, Owen and Hazel just lay back in their crash webbings, gathering their strength. They'd used up most of their reserves to get this far, and both of them felt like they'd been running on empty for some time. A bone-deep weariness held them in the webbing like iron weights. It was tempting just to lie there and escape the stress and strain of their situation in dreamless sleep. Owen slowly realized that if he didn't move soon, he'd just lie there until he bled to death. He forced himself up and out of the webbing, then roused Hazel from hers with harsh words and the promise of luxurious quarters inside the yacht. It took her a while to open the airlock with her burned hands, refusing his offer of help, and then she stepped back for Owen to lead the way. He grinned sardonically and stumbled toward the yacht's outer airlock on unsteady feet.

  He entered the correct security code, and the lock swung open. Owen stepped through, Hazel close behind. Lights turned themselves on as the ship sensed their presence, and Hazel stopped just beyond the inner airlock and gawped openly at the sheer opulence before her. Every form of convenience and luxury had been catered for in the ship's fittings, everything from rich furs on the floor to the very latest computer hardware. There was even an old-fashioned bar, all gleaming mahogany and cut-glass decanters. Owen grinned briefly at her reaction and waved her into the nearest leather-upholstered chair.

  "She is a little beauty, isn't she? One hundred and fifty feet long, thirty wide, with a reinforced, gold-plated hull and all the extras I could find in the catalogue. Get your breath back while I find out if we've still got an AI to run things."

  He accessed the ship's computers through his comm implant, contacted the Standing's computers, and downloaded Ozymandius into the ship's mainframe. It all took less than a second, and he broke contact as quickly as he could, just in case something was lying in wait to follow him back. And then the AI's comforting voice was with him again, and he relaxed a little.

  "Owen, dear boy, don't ever leave it that late again. Still, I'm relieved to see you survived this far. I'm afraid your Standing is completely overrun and somewhat vandalized. The Imperial codeb
reakers are currently trying to crack an empty shell I set up as a distraction, and probably will be for some time, but I think it would be in both our interests to get the hell off this planet as quickly as possible. If not faster. We have definitely overstayed our welcome, and it's well past time we were gone. I see you've acquired a new friend. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

  "Hazel d'Ark," Owen subvocalized briskly. "She's an outlaw, like me. Give her low-level security clearance, for the time being."

  "Very well, Owen. With your permission, I'll start running the ship through some wake-up routines and get it ready to depart."

  "Yeah, you do that. And keep the long-range sensors alert. If there's anything moving anywhere near this lake, I want to know about it."

  "Hey, Deathstalker, this is some ship you've got here," said Hazel, and Owen turned his attention back to her. She was slumped in the over-sized chair with a large drink in her hand, like a ragged doll that had been left too close to the fire. "I could buy a dukedom for what this must have cost. The last time I saw luxury like this was in a top-rank brothel parlor back on Loki."

  Owen winced, but managed a polite smile. "I'm so glad you approve. Right now, I suggest we move into the next room. There's a certain little device there that will do us both a power of good."

  Hazel looked at him suspiciously. "This wouldn't involve a bed, would it?"

  Owen laughed briefly. "Thanks for the interest, but no. I don't think either of us are in any condition for that. Please, step this way."

  Hazel emptied her glass, let it drop onto the carpet, and struggled up but of her chair. Owen knew better than to offer her any help. It took her a while, but eventually she was back on her feet and swaying only slightly. In the sharp unforgiving light of the yacht's main quarters, she looked worse than ever. Her clothes were scorched and tattered, and her burns were deep and disfiguring. Her hands were charred claws. He offered her his arm, and she took it as though she was doing him a favor. He led the way into the next compartment; a small, compact room dominated by a long steel cylinder, eight feet long and three wide. Hazel studied it warily. It looked disturbingly like a body bank.

  "All right," she said finally. "I'll bite. What is it?"

  "Cell regenerator," said Owen smugly. "Promotes rapid healing in minor injuries, and major ones, too, if you've got the time to spare. Works on the same principles used for cloning human tissues. Strictly forbidden for any but those of noble birth on pain of a very unpleasant death. Still, I won't tell anyone if you won't. You want to go first?"

  "After you," said Hazel very politely, and Owen grinned. He activated the necessary systems through his implant, and the cylinder split apart, revealing a surprisingly comfortable-looking interior. Owen climbed in, gave Hazel a reassuring smile, and lay back with a sigh as the cylinder closed itself over him. After that, it got very still and very quiet. Hazel looked about her. She had to keep fighting down an urge to sneak back into the other room, pick out the smaller valuable items and stuff them into her pockets. She had a strong feeling that would be a bad idea. Partly because it would have been a betrayal of Owen's trust, but mainly because she had an extremely strong feeling that she was being watched. She leaned against the cylinder to steady herself, cleared her throat and raised her voice.

  "Is there an AI on board this yacht?" Yes, miss," said the AI through an overhead speaker. "I ;tm Ozymandius, at your service. How may I help you?"

  "Tell me about Owen Deathstalker."

  "Head of the Deathstalker Clan, and Lord of Virimonde, until his outlawing. A good man, within his limitations. You can trust him to do what he feels is right."

  "That's rather vague."

  "That's Owen for you. He's never been a very positive person. Something of an underachiever, in fact. I have hopes the current emergency will bring out the best in him. If he doesn't get horribly killed first."

  Hazel was about to say something rather cutting when the cylinder suddenly started to open, and she had to stand up quickly to avoid being thrown off. The sudden movement made her feel giddy for a moment, but she had it back under control before Owen could notice. He stood before her and struck a jaunty pose, and she had to admit he was looking a hell of a lot better. His injuries had healed with no trace of scars, and he had a new confidence in his bearing. Even his clothes had been cleaned and repaired. He smiled cheerfully at her reaction.

  "I told you; this yacht has everything you can think of, and a few things you never dreamed of. Climb in, and the machine'll take care of you, too."

  Hazel wasn't at all sure she liked the way he'd put that, but she didn't really have any choice, and she knew it. The shock that had protected her from the worst of her burns had worn off long ago. Every movement was agony now, and she was hovering on the edge of total exhaustion. She couldn't argue anymore, and anyway, sooner or later she was going to have to trust the Deathstalker. Even if he was a Lord. She nodded stiffly to Owen and stepped clumsily into the cylinder. She lay down and gave herself up to fate with something like relief. She shut her eyes as the cylinder closed over her.

  "Do you want me to make any changes in the young lady?" said the AI diffidently.

  Owen frowned. "How do you mean changes?"

  "Well, there are several programs I can run while she's in the cylinder that would make her more… tractable. Programs to make her loyal to you, for example, and prevent her from raising any weapon against you. They're quite safe and would do her no lasting damage. It's simply a matter of security, Owen. She is an outlaw, after all."

  "So am I," said Owen. "You leave her mind alone. That's an order."

  "Yes, Owen. As you wish."

  Owen wasn't sure why he was so angry. The computer was programmed to look after his best interests. It was just doing its job. But Hazel had risked her life to save his for no profit that he could see. No one had ever done that for him before who didn't have to, and he wasn't sure yet how he felt about that. Until he was sure, Hazel d'Ark was under his protection. Even from himself, if necessary.

  "Anything new on the sensors?" he said finally.

  "Nothing so far. Your plunging into a lake has confused the hell out of them. I'm picking up all kinds of unprotected transmissions. Some think it was desperation, others are suggesting suicide. Right now they're arguing about whether to wait for you to reemerge, or go in after you."

  "Let me know when they make up their minds." Owen stretched slowly. The cylinder had repaired all his physical hurts, but he was still mentally exhausted. "I still can't believe everything fell apart so fast. I seem to have gone through the only experience left for the man who has everything: losing it all. This has to be some kind of ghastly mistake. I've done nothing to be outlawed for."

  "Perhaps," said the AI, "if you were to surrender yourself, and offer to hand over Miss d'Ark as a sign of good faith…"

  "No. I don't want to hear that kind of idea from you again. Besides, I already thought of that, and it wouldn't work. They'd just take her and kill me anyway. Is the ship ready to go yet?"

  "Yes, Owen. Ready for takeoff."

  The cylinder opened, and Hazel emerged like a rather bedraggled butterfly from its cocoon. Her overalls had been repaired and looked cleaner than Owen would have thought possible. She allowed Owen to help her out, studying her now flawless skin with awe. "I know people who would pay a medium-sized fortune for access to something like this."

  "If we find ourselves dangerously short of money, perhaps you can set up a deal," said Owen, smiling. "Now, if you'd like to join me in the main compartment, I think it's time we got the hell out of here. Once we're up and moving, there's nothing on this planet that can catch us. Oz, take us up, and don't stop for anything till we're in orbit."

  "Yes, Owen."

  "Then where?" said Hazel, following him back into the first compartment.

  Owen shrugged. "I was hoping you'd have some ideas. I'm new to the outlaw business. Where can we go where we'll be safe from the kind of people who'll be coming after m
e? And before you say anything, no, I am not interested in joining up with any rebel groups against the Empire. I am still loyal to the Iron Throne and the Empire, if not the Empress."

  "Nicely rationalized," said Ozymandius.

  "There's only one place we can go," said Hazel. "Mistworld, the rebel planet. But it's a one-way trip. You'll be safe enough there, but no one ever leaves Mistworld."

  "Mistworld. I might have known." Hazel looked at Owen inquiringly, and he shook his head. "Don't ask. Very well, for want of anywhere better to go, Mistworld it is. Set the coordinates, Oz. Let me know when we're ready to make the hyper jump."

  "Yes, Owen. We are now in orbit."

  "What, already?" said Hazel. "I didn't even know we'd taken off."

  "I told you this yacht was special," said Owen smugly. "Oz, show us what's happening on the main viewscreen."

  One of the walls became a viewscreen, showing Virimonde far below, and an Imperial starcruiser heading straight for them. Even as they watched, a second starcruiser dropped out of hyperspace behind the first.

  "Two starcruisers?" said Owen, staring at the screen in disbelief. "They sent Mo bloody starcruisers to get me? Cut me some slack, dammit."

  "There is a possibility this might be something to do with me," said Hazel reluctantly. "My previous ship rammed a starcruiser just after I got away in the escape pod. Presumably they got a distress call out as they went down."