Deathstalker Honor d-4

by Simon R. Green

  "What, and do you out of the fun of explaining everything to me? You'd never forgive me." She turned slowly around in a circle, checking the corners and shadows. "I still don't like this. It's too easy. If I was as guilty of as many nasty things as Valentine, I'd want all my exits and entrances thoroughly guarded."

  "He's probably relying on the security systems. I did install the very best. And those souped-up satellites of his would hold off any normal ship."

  "I've been thinking about that," said Hazel. "What if they reported opening fire on us?"

  "What if they did? After the onslaught they handed out, they probably assumed we were so damaged we burned up during the descent."

  "You keep using that word probably. There's nothing very probable about Valentine Wolfe. He's paranoid as hell; he doesn't think the way the rest of us do."

  "Hazel, trust me. This is my place, I know what I'm doing. Now, please put away that gun and grenade before you have an unfortunate and very loud accident. I want to take a look around here."

  "What's there to see?" said Hazel. "It's just a cave."

  "The first of several caves," said Owen, carefully not watching as Hazel made the gun and grenade disappear about her person. "When I was in charge here, we used the extra caves to store all the items there wasn't room for in the Standing proper. When a Family's been around for as long as mine, you'd be amazed how much junk you accumulate. And of course you don't dare throw any of it out for fear of future generations calling you a barbarian. Because you never know when some piece of centuries-old tatt might suddenly become fashionable again, or might come in handy to settle some ancient Family feud or argument. I used to display the best pieces in the castle itself and dump the rest in the caves down here. It's all carefully catalogued. Somewhere. David said he was going to have a good clear-out once he moved in, but I don't think he had time, in the end. Either way, I'll feel better once I've checked. I don't like surprises."

  He moved off toward the back of the cave. Hazel rolled up her eyes briefly at the polished ceiling, and went after him, giving the parked yachts plenty of room in case they were armed with proximity alarms. In the end, Owen didn't get far. He stood before the entrance to the next cave, which was now blocked off by a glowing force field. He was standing very still, and Hazel could tell by the tenseness in his stance that something was very wrong. She hurried over to join him, the gun back in her hand again. She moved in beside him and then stopped, and screwed up her face in disgust. Beyond the transparent energy field the cave was packed from wall to wall and from floor to ceiling with dead bodies. Not respectfully lying in state, on separate slabs or tables, but just crammed together, packed in as tightly as possible. A temperature gauge on the wall by the opening showed that a freezer unit was maintaining the bodies at near zero. Some of the faces looked out at Owen and Hazel, an almost lifelike gleam shining from the frost on their frozen eyeballs.

  "Well," Owen said finally. "Now we know what they did with the bodies."

  "Owen…"

  "Not now. I want to check the other caves."

  And so they went from cave to cave, from opening to opening, and they were all filled to capacity with the refrigerated dead of Virimonde. Owen tried to estimate how many bodies there were, but even guessing at the massive size of the caves, he couldn't grasp it. The numbers were just too big. He stopped before the opening to the last cave, and couldn't go any farther. All the strength just went out of him. Hazel stood beside him and put a comforting hand on his arm, but he hardly felt it.

  "I feel like I ought to do something," he said quietly. "But I don't know what. They were my people. They're still my people. Even if they are dead. But I don't know what to do."

  His hands had clenched into helpless fists. Hazel moved in close beside him, trying to support and comfort him by her proximity.

  "I don't suppose this means much to you," said Owen. "After all, you were a clonelegger."

  "I never saw the bodies," said Hazel. "But sometimes I had nightmares… Why do you suppose Valentine…?"

  "Who knows why Valentine does anything anymore?"

  Hazel hesitated, hearing the cold, bitter rage beneath his words, but pressed on. "The Wolfe's crazy, but there's always a method to his madness. He must have had a reason. Or else why bother refrigerating them?"

  "Knowing Valentine, it's probably a very disturbing reason." Owen let his breath out in a long sigh, and his fists unclenched. "I say we find the bastard and ask him. And if I don't like his answers, I'm going to bounce him off the castle walls till his ears bleed."

  "Sounds like a plan to me," said Hazel.

  Owen led the way to the back of the flyer cave, and opened a hidden door in the wall to reveal a narrow stone passage leading upward. Lights came on in the tunnel, showing the way. Hazel was quietly impressed.

  "It leads to another secret door in what used to be my old bedchamber," said Owen. "From there we have access to all the main areas of the castle. Internal security is mostly human rather than tech. Aristocrats don't like being spied on. Keep your hand near your sword, but leave your guns alone. The sound of a gun would bring guards running from all directions. And I don't want a war. I just want Valentine."

  Anywhen else, Hazel would have snapped at Owen for lecturing her on something so obvious, but she kept her peace. Talking helped distract him. She followed him into the tunnel, and the door swung shut behind them. Their footsteps seemed very loud in the quiet. And then Owen stopped suddenly, turning his head back and forth.

  "What is it?" Hazel said quietly.

  "Something's wrong," said Owen.

  Hazel looked up the tunnel. "I can't see anything."

  "Neither can I. But I can feel it. Can't you?"

  Hazel concentrated, trying to reach out in the strange directions her mind was capable of, and then Owen grabbed her roughly and threw her to the floor. She landed hard, driving the breath from her lungs. Owen hit the ground beside her a moment later, one arm flung across her to hold her down. And from every side disrupter beams filled the tunnel from hidden gun ports. If they'd stayed standing, they'd have been shot to mincemeat.

  "So much for your secret passage, Deathstalker," Hazel hissed, trying to burrow down into the solid stone floor.

  "They must have got it out of David before he died," said Owen. "Try to wriggle backward toward the door."

  "Hell with that," said Hazel. "I have my dignity. Wait till the beams shut off, and then we'll make a run for it while they're recharging."

  "One, they're staggered. They're not going to cut off. Two, the beams are angling lower. Now wriggle, dammit."

  They moved back down the tunnel to the door as fast as they were able, the disrupter beams passing barely an inch or so above their bodies. The lowering energy beams seared through the air just above them, filling the tunnel with the stench of ionized air. Owen's clothes rucked up around him as he crawled backward, slowing him down, and he could hear Hazel's many guns and ammo belts scraping along the floor. He risked a glance at her, just in time to see a disrupter beam clip her raised elbow, vaporizing the sleeve and burning the exposed flesh. She grimaced, but didn't make a sound, and kept moving. The smell of burnt meat mingled briefly with the ozone.

  Owen redoubled his efforts, scrambling backward as fast as he could force himself. He could almost feel the energy beams cutting through the air directly above him. And then he lurched to a halt as his feet slammed up against the closed steel door. He pushed against the door with all his weight, but it wouldn't budge. Owen's temper flared, and he kicked out with both feet. The heavy steel door flew open, half torn off its hinges. He looked back at Hazel again. She'd raised her head slightly at the noise, and a disrupter beam was heading right for her forehead.

  For Owen time seemed to slow and stop, the energy beam crawling slowly through the air. And it was the simplest thing in the world for him to lunge forward and thrust his golden Hadenman hand between Hazel and the beam, and the disrupter beam ricocheted harmlessly away.
Time crashed back to normal. Owen grabbed Hazel and then threw himself out of the tunnel and back into the main cave, dragging her with him. They hit the floor hard and rolled away from the opening, putting as much room as they could between themselves and the deadly tunnel. They lay together for a while, getting their breath back, and then rose just a little shakily to their feet.

  "So," said Owen. "Still feel invulnerable?"

  "Oh, shut up, Deathstalker. Don't you get tired of being right all the time?" She raised her arm gingerly and studied the burn with a curled lip. "Nasty. But it'll heal. Thanks for the save, stud."

  "Any time," said Owen.

  Hazel looked at his golden hand. "I have to say I'm impressed. Your average disrupter beam can vaporize steel plating in under a second, but it just bounced off that golden fashion accessory of yours."

  "The Hadenmen do good work." Owen flexed the golden metal fingers just a little self-consciously. "One of these days I really ought to sit down with some human scientists and have them analyze the hell out of this thing, but I never seem to have the time. It's all rush, rush, rush when you're a rebel hero."

  "And a bounty hunter."

  "That too. Speaking of which, I have another idea on how to get to dear Valentine."

  "Hold everything. Your last idea didn't turn out so damned hot."

  "And you're not going to like this new one much either. But we can't hang around here; those disrupters must have set off all kinds of alarms once they were triggered. There'll be guards here soon. Lots of them, armed to the teeth."

  "Let them come," said Hazel. "Let them all come. I could use something to work off my frustrations on."

  "Not for the first time, you're missing the point. The guards could pin us down here while Valentine and his cronies make their escape. And I'll see this place reduced to rubble before I let that happen. This time Valentine is going to pay for his crimes. In blood."

  "Every now and again you remind me of why I like you," said Hazel. "All right, Deathstalker. I'm going to regret asking, but what is this marvelous new plan of yours?"

  "There's another secret passage. One I never told David about. A Deathstalker always keeps some secrets to himself."

  "There's a catch," said Hazel. "I just know there's a catch."

  "Oh, yes. The entrance to this tunnel is on the other side of the first cave on the left. The only way to get to it is past the piled-up bodies of the dead."

  "Oh, nice one, Owen. How the hell are we supposed to do that? Drag the bodies out one at a time?"

  "Too long. The guards would be upon us before we'd barely started. No, there's only one way. We're going to have to crawl through."

  "No," said Hazel flatly.

  "Hazel…"

  "No! Are you crazy? Dig our way through corpses, hand over hand? I won't do it, Owen. I'd rather stand and fight here."

  "And die?"

  "I'm not doing it!"

  "You used to be a clonelegger!"

  "I was already planning to leave the cloneleggers even before I met you. We can't do this, Owen. It's freezing in there. Near zero."

  "We've withstood worse," said Owen. "The guards will never think to look for us among the dead."

  "That's because no sane person would even think of doing it. I can't, Owen. I just can't. It would be like crawling through the contents of the freezer units on the clonelegger ship. Just like my nightmares."

  "No, it won't. This time I'll be there with you. You have to do this. Hazel. It's the only way. And I can't do it without you."

  "You bastard, Deathstalker. You always did know how to fight dirty." Hazel drew in a long, ragged breath and let it out slowly. "All right. Let's do it. Before I get a rush of brains to the head and tell you to go to hell."

  "Just follow me. I'll lead the way."

  "Damn right you will."

  Owen led the way to the cave. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hazel staring straight ahead, her face a cold mask, but her eyes were those of a frightened child. Owen had never seen her scared before, really scared.

  "So," he said, searching for the right words to say, "you were already thinking of leaving the cloneleggers before we met?"

  "Yeah," said Hazel. "They were too gross even for me. And the pay was lousy."

  "Silly me. I thought it might have something to do with morality."

  "Don't you use the m-word in my presence, Deathstalker."

  They stopped before the entrance to the cave. Beyond the shimmering transparent force field, dead faces looked out at them. Hazel's hands fell to her guns, but they didn't comfort her. "Damn you, Deathstalker. Somebody's going to pay for this."

  "Hang on to that attitude. It'll come in very handy when we have to fight our way through Valentine's private army at the other end."

  Hazel snorted. "Overwhelming odds I can handle. I'm used to that. Now, shut up and open the damned door. You can do that, can't you?"

  "I'm working on it."

  Owen studied the force field thoughtfully, and an idea came to him. He accessed his AI.

  "Oz, do you still have the command overrides for the Standing?"

  "Of course. I have override codes for every system in the castle, and every system linked into those systems since we left. Unless David or Valentine and his people have changed them."

  "Not likely. David wouldn't have bothered, and Valentine hasn't had time. Try it, Oz. Isolate this system, shut down this cave's force field, and then raise it again after we're in. Without setting off any alarms."

  The AI sniffed. "You don't want much, do you? It's lucky for you that I'm such a superior model. But before I work my usual miracles, can I just point out that I have no control over the refrigeration units Valentine has installed in these caves. They're an entirely separate system that I have no access to. The temperature in the cave you propose to enter, it's not actually zero, but it's as close as you're ever likely to encounter, short of opening an airlock and stepping out into deep space. Though I wouldn't put that past you either. I've known depressed lemmings on window ledges with better survival instincts than you. Suffice to say that any normal human entering this cave would freeze to death extremely quickly. Assuming the shock didn't get him first."

  "Hazel and I aren't normal, Oz. We haven't been for a long time. Open the cave."

  There was a sudden snap of energies cancelling out, and the force field was gone. Freezing air rushed out from the cave, steaming thickly into the cavern like a thick fog. The bitter cold hit Owen and Hazel like a blow, and they flinched back from it despite themselves. They shuddered violently and held on to each other for support. There was no smell, no stench of death or decay. It was too cold for that.

  Owen and Hazel moved reluctantly forward, the cold air searing their lungs painfully as they breathed it. The nearest body was a woman, dressed in torn peasant's clothing, charred and blackened around the energy-weapon wounds that had killed her. Her face was a mess. Half of it was missing. Owen reached out a hand toward her and then hesitated. His hand was trembling, and not from the cold.

  "If she's as cold as I think she is, you could get frostbite just by touching her," said Hazel.

  "Not to worry," said Owen. "I used to know a lot of women like that at Court." He shook his head slowly. "I thought I'd seen everything. Thought I'd seen so much death and suffering that this wouldn't mean anything to me. But I was wrong."

  "When you stop feeling anything," said Hazel, "it'll mean part of you has died too. The human part. But as bad as you feel, you're still going to do this, aren't you?"

  "Of course. It's necessary. He murdered my world."

  Owen drew his disrupter, aimed it at the packed bodies before him, and fired. The energy beam tore a path through the frozen dead, creating a tunnel into the mass of bodies some three feet wide. It looked like some monstrous worm or maggot had eaten its way through the dead on its way to some unknown, awful destination. Owen put away his disrupter and turned to Hazel.

  "We'll move through the tunnel fo
r as far as it goes, and then you'll have to pull bodies in behind us to cover our tracks. The extra space I've created will give us room to maneuver at the end of the tunnel."

  Hazel looked at him for a moment. "Nothing's going to stop you, is it, Deathstalker?"

  "No. I know this is difficult for you, Hazel, but… I need you. Do it for me."

  "All right. For you. But you're going to owe me one hell of a favor afterward." She scowled at the tunnel. "It's going to be dark, once we're… inside the mass of bodies. How will we know where we're going?"

  "I know where the hidden door is," said Owen. "I can feel it in my mind. All you have to do is follow me. Don't worry. It's not like there's any chance of you getting lost in there. Let's go."

  And he turned away from her and stepped into the chamber of the dead. The utter cold cut into him like a knife, and he shuddered so hard his teeth chattered in his head. The frozen air burned in his throat and lungs, like swallowing razor blades. Hoarfrost formed immediately on his hair and eyelids, and his eyes ached as the cold began freezing the liquid in his eyeballs. He blinked hard, gritted his teeth, and knelt down to fit himself into the tunnel he'd made. Even with his disrupter set on full, wide dispersal, it hadn't been able to produce a very wide tunnel. He'd have to crawl through it on hands and knees. His knees jarred on the frozen bodies, frozen hard as concrete. Some had been cut open by the energy beam as neatly as a surgeon's knife, revealing hard, frozen innards. They were mostly gray, with a few pale shades of pink or purple, even the vitality of color leached out of them by the dreadful cold.

  Owen shuffled forward, reaching out with his hands to grab the bodies ahead and pull himself along. The dead flesh was so cold it burned his bare hands. Every instinct yelled at him to let go immediately, but he refused to listen. He tightened his grip and pulled himself on. When he did try to let go, his warm flesh clung stickily to the cold, and he had to use all his strength to pull free. He left patches of skin behind, but felt no pain. Owen refused to let it upset him. The skin would grow back, and it would happen less and less as his hands cooled. Already his body was adapting to the horrid cold, his core temperature plummeting at a speed that would have killed anyone else. He had no sensation left anywhere, and his eyes were stuck open, but he'd stopped shuddering. When he moved his arms and legs, they felt like they belonged to someone else. His breath no longer steamed on the air before him. He pulled himself on down the tunnel, farther into the domain of the dead, and the dark closed slowly in around him. He could hear Hazel moving close behind him, breathing harshly, and she was his only comfort.