Deathstalker Coda

by Simon R. Green

  They all descended towards the Spike, which turned out to be surrounded by a high intensity force field. Owen could feel it, prickling against his augmented senses. Glory turned around and gestured at the satellites, and the crackling energy cage contracted suddenly to surround Owen, while the satellites backed away. Owen considered informing the Investigator that this close up the energies tickled, but decided against it. He wanted Glory and her partner to feel secure around him, for the moment at least. Dominic made a series of gestures, and a corridor opened up in the force shield, its boundaries clearly designated by bright holo markings. Dominic and Glory escorted Owen through, maintaining a safe distance from the energy cage, and then the force shield closed behind them again. Ahead of them, a series of heavy blast doors opened and closed, admitting them at last to the interior of the Spike. They ended up in a huge elevator, big enough to handle a crowd, and began a long journey down through the Spike and on into the interior of the moon. Owen was beginning to have some idea of just what kind of place he'd been brought to.

  The elevator went down a long, long way, before the doors finally opened on an entirely prosaic reception area. Dominic and Glory indicated for Owen to go ahead of them, so he took his energy cage for a casual stroll round the reception area. All four walls were covered with dozens of monitor screens, each showing a different view, constantly changing to cover different angles. A central comm and control console seemed familiar enough, if a little ornate and overdesigned for Owen's taste.

  The energy cage suddenly snapped off, leaving only two rings of crackling energy surrounding his wrists. Owen tested them, surreptitiously, and kept the smile off his lips. Dominic and Glory stood before him, and their silver force shields snapped off. For the first time, Owen could get a clear look at his captors. Glory Chojiro turned out to be a short, stocky woman, barely five feet tall. She was well muscled, with broad shoulders and a jutting bosom. Her face had clear oriental lines, with jet-black hair and eyes. She was entirely naked, but her skin was ruby pink metal for as far as the eye could see, and Owen could see pretty far. There were no joints or seams to mark the metal as some kind of armor, so Owen reluctantly accepted it had to be her skin. She seemed a bit on the small side for an Investigator, but there was no denying she held herself like a warrior. Even though she carried no visible weapons.

  Dominic Cairo was tall and slender, almost aesthetically muscled, and also bare arse naked. His skin was a cool sky blue, marked on the face and chest with what appeared to be lines of metal circuitry. He had a kindly, thoughtful face, under a shock of tufty silver hair. He put a hand to his bare hip, and the hand disappeared for a moment before reappearing with a large and blocky energy weapon in it. Owen raised an eyebrow.

  "Good trick," he said. "Where did the gun come from?"

  "Subspace pocket," said Dominic. "Keyed only to me, of course. You have never seen one before? Interesting. All our weapons and necessary work items are held in a sub-space locker, at right angles to this dimension, and preprogrammed to accept only our orders, so kindly restrain any aggressive impulses."

  "Move against us and you will be punished," said Glory.

  "Oh, perish the thought," said Owen. He realized he was breathing normally again, but was distracted by another thought. "Don't you two ever get cold, wandering around like that? In the nude, I mean?"

  "Told you he was a barbarian," Glory said to Dominic. "Probably from one of the outer worlds, where they still suffer from taboos."

  "He says he's from the future," Dominic said mildly. "And he did trigger the satellites. There is also the unresolved question as to how he was able to survive in vacuum without our advantages."

  "There is more to me than meets the eye," said Owen.

  "There would have to be," said Glory. "And bear yourself with courtesy in our presence." She stepped forward to glare at him more efficiently. "You are now in the House of Correction, and headed for the holding pens, unless you can provide us with an acceptable explanation."

  "Yeah, I thought this had to be some kind of prison." said Owen. "It's got that depressing ambience. What exactly am I being charged with?"

  "Well," said Dominic. "Being weird and unusual, and just possibly a threat to Humanity. As Investigator and Defender, my partner and I take such things most seriously. Be under no misapprehensions as to your situation. We have reason to fear creatures such as you, who appear out of nowhere, and who fit no known parameters. We are at present deep beneath the surface of the moon, where we hold all the worst criminals Humanity has to offer. The hardened recidivists, who can't or won't.be helped."

  "So what happens to them?" said Owen. "They stay here till they die?"

  "Of course not!" said Dominic, clearly shocked. "We wipe them clean of their memories, and leave them a blank slate, so that they can start again in a new life, untroubled by their past."

  "Here we deal with the worst of the worst," said Glory. "We have heard and seen it all, and we never give the benefit of the doubt."

  "Nice speech," said Owen. "Honest, I'm impressed. And thoroughly intimidated. How many criminals do you have here?"

  "At present, three hundred and forty-seven," said Dominic. He seemed amiable enough, but his gun never wavered from covering Owen. "Security in the House of Correction is extremely tight. You will stay here until your fate is determined. Don't even think of trying to escape."

  "Oh, perish the thought," said Owen. "I only just got here. I suppose a friendly sit-down and chat over a nice cup of tea is out of the question?"

  They ignored him, pulling a whole series of unfamiliar tech items out of their subspace pockets. Dark ugly things, bristling with metal spikes. Owen decided that there were very definite limits to what he was prepared to put up with, especially if it involved dropping his trousers and bending over, but fortunately all Dominic and Glory wanted to do was study him from a safe distance. Owen could feel energy fluctuations moving over and around him, but none of it was particularly uncomfortable, so he just let them get on with it. He was actually curious to see what they had to say about his new condition. Dominic and Glory studied the readings they were getting, scowled and muttered a lot, and finally got into a short but intense fight over what it all meant. Owen regretfully decided that he wasn't going to get any useful insights out of the First Empire tech after all.

  "Look," he said finally. "Why don't you just ask me what you want to know? I can pretty much guarantee in advance that you aren't going to like most of the answers, but then, I don't much either. In fact, there are times when I distinctly wish I would go away and stop bothering me. So, I am Owen, first of my Family and lord of my Clan. Rebel and warrior, hero and legend. Or so they tell me. I spent most of my life studying to be a historian, but it turned out history had other plans for me. I have traveled back in time in pursuit of a friend who came before me. Does any of that help?"

  "Not really," said Dominic, after a pause.

  "All right," Owen said patiently. "Let's start with the basics. Who are you? I think I know what an Investigator is, but what the hell is a Defender of Humanity?"

  Glory and Dominic looked at each other, and finally Glory shrugged angrily. "I am Investigator Chojiro. It is my duty and my honor to examine and oppose all extranormal threats to Humanity. From within or without. I have powers in the Low and the High Justice, and the right of execution without warning or appeal. I am presently stationed on Heartworld, center of the Empire, and I and all my brethren have been tasked to watch for the return of something like you, or what came before you."

  "I am Defender of Humanity Dominic Cairo. It is my trust to ensure that the people of the Empire do not use newly discovered technology or medical enhancements to remake themselves into something inhuman. The nature of Humanity must be respected and maintained, and I have powers in the Low and the High Justice to deal with anything that threatens it. I defend the spirit of Humanity. A hard task, in these days of vacuum dancers, water breathers, and heavy gravity prowlers. I see you do not r
ecognize those terms. Originally, the process of adaptation was developed to enable people to fit the conditions on other planets. Why go to all the time and expense of changing a planet, when it's so much easier to change the people? Unfortunately, the changes have run wild, for the thrill or the fashion of it. There are many kinds of people now, and not all of them are fully human."

  "Both our castes were created a hundred or so years ago," said Glory. "After a series of disastrous first contacts with alien species led to wars, and the destruction of whole alien cultures in the name of human destiny. We are rebuilding them, as best we can, and have sworn never to be inhuman again. A noble intent, but the accelerating rate of change in the human form is having its effect on the human mind and soul. No one can keep track of all the subspecies of Humanity anymore. And there are nowhere near enough Investigators or Defenders these days. The Emperor grows old, and does not care, and those below take their cue from him."

  "You have chosen a bad time to visit us, Owen," said Dominic. "In these sad, despairing dog days of Empire."

  "Why are you here?" Glory said sharply. "What is your purpose?"

  "I told you, I'm from the future," Owen said patiently. "Searching for my friend who came here before me. You seem to be accepting the time travel bit rather more easily than I expected. Do you have time travel?"

  "No," said Glory. "All such research was banned, after the trouble we had with the Illuminati, long ago. But we have had experience with your kind before. That is why you were caged, and why you still wear the energy gyves. We will not risk such horror running loose again."

  "Why are you wearing that antique weapon?" Dominic said suddenly, pointing at the sword on Owen's hip. "Is it ceremonial, or a symbol for your masculinity?"

  "Neither," Owen said dryly. "It's my sword. My weapon. Where, or rather when, I come from everyone bears a sword. We have energy guns too, of course, but we prefer to do our fighting with cold steel. It is an honorable weapon."

  Dominic frowned for the first time. "Whatever could be honorable about killing people? The Investigator and I carry energy guns, our duty commands it, but they are simply accurate and brutally efficient. That is all that can be asked of a killing tool. It is a terrible responsibility, to take another's life."

  "Why are you here, Owen?" Glory insisted. "What do you want?"

  "I followed my friend Hazel. Her trail led me here."

  "Hazel?" said Dominic. "That thing was human once?"

  Glory snorted loudly, her dark eyes harsh, her mouth grim. "Your friend may have begun as human, but what arrived here was more like a terrible force of nature. It appeared out of nowhere, manifesting in high orbit amid a shower of tachyons, indicating that it was a time traveler. It had no physical form or dimensions, just a vast horrid presence stamped directly onto reality by an effort of will. It was huge and powerful, and as merciless as any devil. It descended upon Heartworld, sweeping aside all our defenses, and raged across our world, spreading death and devastation. It tore open the earth and raged through the cities, and none of our weapons even touched it. We called it the Mad Mind, after a legend from the first days of Empire."

  (So, thought Owen. Now I know where I'm going next.)

  "Eventually," said Dominic, "with half our world reduced to blood and ruins, the Mad Mind disappeared, as suddenly as it had arrived. And ever since we have been waiting for another such monster to fall upon us out of time."

  "And here you are," said Glory. "In our power, to answer for the crimes of your… friend."

  "Can we really do that?" said Dominic, not even trying to hide his uncertainty. "I mean, look at the fellow. He bears no resemblance to the Mad Mind, in form or in nature. We cannot expect one individual to answer for the crimes of another. That would be… inhuman."

  "It is the Emperor's will!"

  "Is it? Perhaps if he met Owen, he would feel differently."

  Owen let them argue for a while, but it quickly became clear they weren't going to resolve anything anytime soon, so he butted in again. "Why is there so much starship traffic around Heartworld? Is there some emergency? Perhaps something I could help with?"

  "No," said Dominic. "Lots of people are leaving Heartworld, for the outer colonies. To follow their own belief systems, or to escape the much predicted decline and fall of the Empire. Rats, deserting a sinking ship. Humanity has become… sundered, divided. We have all become too different from each other. Everyone must have the very latest technology implants, chemical enhancements, genetic restructuring. There are all kinds of subspecies now; nothing is forbidden and experimentation is running wild. We know everything about how to alter the body, and not nearly enough about how such changes affect the soul. The Humanity. We have a dozen different sexes now, group minds, human/animal combinations. Memes are fashions, and minds swap bodies at will, wearing different forms like suits."

  "You're such a sweet old-fashioned thing, Dom," said Glory, smiling for the first time. "It's not all bad. Body change has enabled us to explore the universe. We walk upon worlds we could never have experienced before, because terraforming would have destroyed their true nature. We breathe poison, stand erect under the heaviest gravities, swim through gas worlds."

  "That's not why they change their bodies on Heartworld," Dominic said stubbornly. "Change is all the rage these days, for the thrill, for the kick, for the experience. We are all so desperate for new experiences. When nothing is forbidden, where do you go for cheap thrills and the sick little joys of sin? Everything is possible now, and that is why the Empire is falling apart. There are too many factions, subgroups, heretical beliefs… No consensus is ever possible. That's why Parliament became a joke; because there are just too many positions, beliefs, philosophies. The only real authority comes from the Emperor, damn his immortal soul, and his Praetorian Guard. More and more they usurp prerogatives that belong to the Investigators and the Defenders. Society is fragmenting, and the center cannot hold. Humanity is divided by its own freedoms and appetites. Already many of the border worlds have rejected Heartworld authority, and fallen back into barbarism."

  Glory looked sharply at Owen. "Is this your doing? Are you affecting Dom in some way, with your future powers? He doesn't normally talk so much, or so freely."

  "It's true," said Dominic. "I don't."

  "Nothing to do with me," said Owen. "I think… you've both been waiting for someone you could talk to. Someone who'd listen. Perhaps I can help, now that I'm here. In my own time, I led a rebellion that brought about a Golden Age. Or so everyone keeps telling me…"

  Glory shook her head shortly. "No. We have our orders, our responsibilities. You will be held here, while we inquire for further instructions. After the devastations of the Mad Mind, we cannot take chances with any visitors from your future."

  "But he doesn't belong here," Dominic said stubbornly. "Not with these… transgressors."

  "Who have you got here?" said Owen. "What could still be a crime, with the freedoms you have now?"

  "As ingenuity expands possibilities, crime flourishes," said Glory. "The House of Correction holds body-swap terrorists, personality cancers, talent thieves, cult leaders who spread enforcement memes to gather new followers. Gender terrorists, who try to create new sexes by experimenting on unwilling victims."

  "And Ansel deLangford," said Dominic. "Our latest arrival. Head of the Thrillkill Cult. He encouraged his many followers to consider murder as a work of art. The more complex, the more grotesque, and the more extreme, the better. His followers vied to present him with ever greater atrocities, but he was always the worst of them all. He specialized in murders whose foul and awful nature destroyed the minds and souls of the victims' friends and families. The Thrillkill Cult wiped out whole subspecies and cultures, in the name of their perverted art, before we finally shut them down. Psychopathic kick killers, dancing and singing through the chaos of a falling Empire. But he is ours now, at last, and we will squeeze every last piece of information out of him, so that every last vestige
of his cult will die with him."

  "You're never this chatty when it's just me," said Glory. She looked at Owen. "Any questions?"

  "Yes," said Owen. "Why are you covered in pink metal?"

  And that was when all the alarms in the world went off at once. Sirens and bells and a hell of a lot of flashing lights. While Owen was trying to look in every direction at once, Glory and Dominic looked quickly at the wall screens and then hurried over to the main console. The views on the monitor screens had stopped their shifting to concentrate on a series of cell doors sliding ponderously open, one after another, and wild shouting people spilling out into steel corridors. The alarms shut off, so the speakers could carry shouts and screams and raw harsh cries for vengeance. All the prisoners were loose, and already searching for weapons and a way out. Except for one man, who stood calmly before a security camera, smiling and entirely relaxed. He looked almost ordinary, until you got to the eyes. Owen shuddered as he looked at the man looking out of the monitor screen. He'd seen eyes like that before. Cold, mad, killer's eyes.

  It didn't seem such a long time since he'd killed Kit Summerlsle, also known as Kid Death.

  "DeLangford," Dominic said grimly. "Somehow, he's got into the computers. He's triggered all the overrides, using codes he shouldn't even have known existed. There's nothing we can do."

  "He wanted to be brought here," said Glory. "He didn't set the others loose out of altruism. He's planning something. Something awful."

  "Call out the guards," said Owen. "How many do you have stationed here?"

  Glory and Dominic looked at him. "There are no guards," said Dominic. "Just the computers. Usually, that's all that's needed. After all, this is the moon. Where could anyone go if they did escape? But deLangford isn't interested in escaping. He wants to make some art here. Murder art. But he waited for something to bring us back here. Because he wanted an audience."