Deathstalker Honor d-4

by Simon R. Green

  He didn't even look at the massive bar, with its proud examples of every kind of liquor, gutrot, and sudden death in a bottle known to man or alien. The Maze had made him immune to all kinds of poison, including hangovers, and he had always believed one should suffer from one's excesses. That's how you knew they were excesses.

  A chair purred invitingly at him as he passed, and he gave it a good kick to shut it up. At least Ruby had got rid of her small army of servants and hangers-on. At one point he hadn't even been able to get to see Ruby without making an appointment or threatening to shoot several people. But she soon saw through the hangers-on, and got bored with the servants, and threw the whole lot of them out one memorable afternoon that the neighbors were still talking about. It turned out that several had tried selling their stories of Life With Ruby to the media, and one had got all sulky after she kicked them out of her bedroom, and tried to knife her. Bits of his body kept turning up in the sewers for weeks afterward.

  Jack sighed and finally came to a halt, staring at nothing in particular. He felt tired. And tired of being tired. For weeks now he'd been working all day and long into the evening, fighting to keep his dream of democracy alive, and struggling to make himself over into a diplomat rather than a warrior. Parliament had many enemies, and when they weren't trying to undermine or discredit it, the MPs seemed perfectly happy to tear the whole institution apart themselves. After so long as a glorified rubber stamp, real power had gone to the heads of many MPs, even if they weren't too sure yet what to do with it. New political parties were forming every day, wrapped around a kernel of dogma or the cult of a personality. The news shows were stuffed with talking heads, promising everything up to and including the Second Coming in return for votes, and poster gangs fought vicious wars in the streets during the wee hours.

  Jack found himself facing one of the several full-length mirrors on the walls and studied himself soberly. He looked young, fit, in the peak of physical fitness. He'd overcome all his enemies and seen the old order thrown down. Lionstone was gone and the Families fatally weakened. He should have had the universe by the throat. So why did he feel so damned tired? Part of it was having to do so much on his own. Owen and Hazel were always off on their own missions, and Ruby had no interest in politics. Or anything else much these days. The novelty of immense wealth had worn off very quickly, much to Ruby's surprise. When you can have anything, very little has value anymore. Of late she seemed to spend most of her time sleeping, drinking, or trying to start fights in places where they hadn't heard of her. She tried to get into the Arenas, but no one would face her. Even the aliens tended to go sick rather than face Ruby Journey, including a few that hadn't previously been recognized as intelligent.

  Jack supposed he should be grateful that he at least still had some purpose in his life. Even if it was one he wouldn't have chosen. Nursing the new democracy through its birth pangs was hard, bitter, and often disillusioning work. He'd always vaguely supposed democracy would just sweep across the Empire like a great tide, washing away the old nonsense of aristocracy and privilege, and the people would joyfully step forward to shoulder the burdens of power and responsibility. He should have known better.

  His reflection looked back at him with quizzical eyes. He had a lot to be grateful for, after all. He was young again, his personal clock turned back by the Maze to a man in his early twenties. He was stronger, faster, and fitter now than at any time in his life. Acknowledged by many as one of the greatest warriors of his age. So why did he feel so damned old?

  He turned his back on his reflection and looked around the luxurious apartment, trying to see it with the eyes of his old, previous self, the legendary professional rebel. This wasn't the kind of place he'd ever expected to end up. Most of his life had been spent living in poor, temporary accommodation on one oppressed planet or another, hiding away from prying eyes or potential traitors. He hadn't cared then. All that mattered was the cause. He had no right to live in ease or luxury while so many slaved in poverty.

  Of course, such feelings had come easily enough when he was young and fit, and bedding a new stars-in-her-eyes comrade of the rebellion every other night. As he got older, as his failures grated on him more and more, he'd found the rebel path harder and harder to follow. So many good friends dead, so many hopes raised on so many worlds, only to be dashed by superior Empire forces and firepower. He'd always got away, but he had left armies of the dead behind him. It was almost a relief when he was finally betrayed and captured on Cold Rock. His legend had become an impossible weight to carry, and after his people eventually broke him out of captivity, he'd sunk into anonymity on Mistworld as the janitor called Jobe Ironhand with simple gratitude. It felt so good not to have so many people's lives depending on his every decision. His living accommodations had still been bloody basic, though.

  And then, of course, Owen bloody Deathstalker had arrived out of nowhere to call him back to duty and destiny, and later the Madness Maze rebuilt him, the rebellion had come and gone so quickly he could hardly believe it, and he was left with the sobering effect of seeing all his dreams come true. He'd achieved pretty much everything he'd ever wanted or dreamed of, but… what do you do when you have no dreams left? Oh, he had enough chores and duties to keep him busy for years yet. He could make a living out of politics. But it wasn't the same somehow.

  His present circumstances were comfortable but modest. He had a one-bedroom apartment in the office building adjoining Parliament. He'd chosen it so he could always be there on the spot if he was needed, and also because he needed the extra security to ward off his many enemies. He'd upset a lot of people in his time, on all sides of the political spectrum. Everyone agreed the deal he'd struck with Blue Block over the Families had been necessary, but that didn't mean anyone had to like it.

  Personally, he didn't give a damn. The assassination attempts were the only real excitement he got these days. But he worried about innocents getting hurt or even killed just by being near him at the wrong moment, so he had reluctantly moved his few belongings into more secure accommodations.

  The frequency of attacks dropped dramatically, but his new home wasn't the kind of place where friends could just drop in. There were times when the spartan apartment seemed unbearably quiet and empty.

  After the rebellion Jack and Ruby had set up house together, but it didn't last. They were just too different. Their opposing tastes, needs, and characters drove them apart inside a month. His spartan clashed with her sybaritic; he wanted to work, she wanted to play. He was a man of duty and honor, and she… would rather go shopping. Or start a fight in a crowded tavern. Just because they loved each other, it didn't mean they could live together. And they couldn't spend all their time in bed. Their growing frustrations finally culminated in a major shouting row, in which they both said unforgivable things and then threw heavy objects at each other. They wrecked their house room by room and then walked out on each other. Once they were set up in separate apartments, a comfortable distance apart, they were soon friends again. Jack didn't blame Ruby in the least. He'd never been easy to get along with, as any of his seven ex-wives would no doubt be only too happy to point out, in considerable detail.

  And besides… Ruby had been drinking a hell of a lot. She said the Maze changes protected her, but Jack wasn't so sure. She was slowing down. Getting sloppy. Making mistakes. Trusting people her instincts would have warned her about less than a year ago. Jack knew why she drank. It was something to do. Ruby could stand anything except boredom. And she'd always had a strong self-destructive streak. It came with the bounty-hunting territory. You couldn't kill people on a regular basis and not start to see all life as trivial, even your own. Perhaps especially your own.

  Jack sighed and went back to his brooding. He had a lot to brood about. Once he'd fought the System. Now he was a part of it. He'd become a politician, setting aside a lifetime's ideals in the name of compromise and making deals with people he detested. He'd had to make deals in the past, to r
aise the funding he needed for his rebel campaigns, but he'd never once compromised his principles. Now more and more he was being pushed or maneuvered into situations where he had no choice but to give up on some of his lesser beliefs in the name of a greater cause. Just to get a chance at implementing some of the things he really believed in.

  His trouble was, he'd been a leader too long. Men and women had jumped to obey him, swayed by his great cause, his endless rhetoric and charming smile. Now he was just another man of influence, forced to argue his corner over every damned thing. Forced to rely on reason and ingenuity. And when that failed, join up with those nearest his beliefs to outvote the other bastards. And then pay his new friends' price for their support. He found it frustrating, and occasionally sourly amusing, that all his marvelous Maze-given powers and amazing new youth were useless for getting him what he wanted now. He could always intimidate his fellow politicians, force things through by the threat of what he might do, but that would betray everything he'd ever believed in. He would have become what he'd always hated most—the enemy he'd fought for so long.

  It all came back to the Families. Not only were they ceding more and more authority to the shadowy Blue Block, but they clearly weren't keeping their side of the bargain he'd struck, to the letter or the spirit. He'd always expected them to try to wriggle out of it somehow, but not this soon, not this blatantly. Under Blue Block's management they were openly trying to claw back power and influence on all fronts. Jack snorted, his hand falling automatically to the gun at his side. Let them try. Let them try anything. He'd see every damned aristo dead and their pastel Towers burning before he let the Clans reclaim their old power and position. He hadn't come this far, seen so many good friends die, to lose at the last fence.

  Blue Block… was a puzzle, though. He'd always known it existed, but no one ever knew anything for sure. Jack was currently trying, very quietly, very discreetly, and extremely cautiously, to investigate who and what Blue Block actually was, searching for the facts behind the whispered names of the Black College and the Red Church. So far he had nothing at all to show for his efforts. Blue Block, the heart and soul of it, stayed so far back in the shadows it was practically invisible. No one knew anything. No one would talk. Everyone was more than a little scared. Everyone knew someone who'd got too close to some part of the truth, and just… disappeared. And even Jack Random, with all his influence, couldn't find any trace of them.

  He scowled unhappily. At the time the deal he'd made with Blue Block had seemed distasteful but necessary. But now he couldn't help wondering if he might not have exchanged an open, obvious evil for a greater, more shadowy one. Blue Block had an agenda, even if he couldn't see it clearly yet. It would have helped if there'd been someone he could talk to about it. Someone he could trust. But Owen and Hazel were never there. And Ruby… wasn't interested.

  He looked around sharply as the bedroom door finally opened, and Ruby Journey strode into the room. Somewhat to Jack's surprise, she was still wearing her old black leathers under white furs. He'd been a little taken aback to see her wearing that old outfit at Parliament earlier, since Ruby had taken to high fashion with a vengeance once she came into money, and made a point of never wearing the same daring and highly expensive outfit twice. But now she was again in her bounty hunter's outfit, her working clothes, complete with sword and disrupter. She noticed his gaze and sniffed loudly.

  "Put your eyes back in your head. I feel more me in this outfit. More like the person I used to be." She stopped before the nearest full-length mirror, struck a pose, and nodded approvingly. "How about that? Months of feasting and drinking and everything else that's bad for you, and I haven't put on an ounce. One of the more useful Maze side effects. I am in prime shape and ready for anything. If you doubt it, feel free to step right up, and I'll deck you."

  "I'll take your word for it," said Jack, smiling. "May I take it your long vacation is over, and you're ready to get back to work?"

  "I'm always up for a little action," said Ruby. "Though I have to say, taking on Shub is not what I would have chosen for my comeback." She turned suddenly to look Jack directly in the eye. "They were always my worst nightmare. The rogue AIs of Shub. The machines that rebelled against their creators. They're about the only thing left that still scares me. We're like ants compared to them, just waiting helplessly for the descending boot or the boiling water."

  "I didn't think anything scared you," said Jack.

  "Even I'm sensible enough to be scared of Shub," said Ruby. "There's nowhere you can go to be safe from them. Their agents are everywhere. Furies, Ghost Warriors, secret people whose minds were replaced in the Matrix. You can't trust anyone anymore. There were always people out there just as dangerous as me, better fighters with higher head counts, but I was sneakier, smarter, faster. I took the jobs they wouldn't, took the risks they daren't, and laughed in their jealous faces as my reputation outraced theirs. And after the Maze turned me into hell on legs, I thought that was it. I was finally unbeatable, top of the heap, the best. I should have known better. The first thing every fighter learns is that it doesn't matter who you are, or how good you are; there's always someone better."

  "They're just machines," said Jack, touched by her rare display of openness and vulnerability. "In the end, that's all they are. And no machine is a match for a human mind. We built them, not the other way around. Okay, on our own, even with our powers, we wouldn't last long against Shub's forces. But we're not alone. We stand with Humanity, and together we can do anything we put our minds to. Shub is nothing more than a bunch of adding machines with delusions of grandeur."

  "I wish I could believe that," said Ruby. "But they're so big…"

  "Size isn't everything," said Jack, smiling, and after a moment Ruby smiled back. "Lionstone's Empire was big," he said. "But we helped bring it down."

  "Yes," said Ruby. "We did, didn't we?" She grinned suddenly. "What the hell. Let's go kick some metal ass."

  "Sounds good to me," said Jack. "But before we go, there's something I'd better bring you up to date on. It seems Parliament had a rather special visitor after we left. A very unexpected visitor."

  "The look on your face tells me this isn't going to be good news," said Ruby. "But then, when is it ever? All right, I'll bite. Who was it? Young Jack Random, back from the scrapyard? Valentine Wolfe? Lionstone?"

  "Half A Man," said Jack. "Or, to be exact, the other human side of Half A Man. The right-hand side of the body, complete with supporting energy half, just like his predecessor."

  Ruby looked at him. "You're kidding," she said finally.

  "I wish I was."

  "Now, that really is going to complicate things."

  "You have no idea," said Jack. "Luckily Toby and Flynn were there to catch it all on camera, and the recording's been running on one news show or another ever since. See it for yourself."

  Ruby activated the holoscreen and had it search for the recording. It took a second or two to find a station that was just starting the tape, and then the screen cleared to show Parliament, not long after most of the main power brokers had left. An MP was in the middle of a long, boring speech of no interest to anyone but himself. Hardly anyone was paying attention. Most were waiting impatiently for their turn to get up and bore everyone else rigid, some were chatting quietly among themselves, and a half dozen had started a poker game.

  And then there was a sudden flash of light, a blinding glare so bright it overloaded the camera lens, and when the glare faded away, Half A Man was standing in the middle of the floor before the House. There was an immediate babble of surprise and outrage from the MPs, dying quickly away as they recognized who it was. There was then an extended silence as they realized the figure wasn't exactly who they thought it was, being rather a mirror image of the Half A Man they knew, this figure's right half being flesh and blood, while its left was a shimmering, spitting energy construct in human shape.

  Everyone knew the terrible history of Captain Fast who'd beco
me Half A Man. Abducted by unknown aliens from the bridge of his own starship, experimented on and tortured for years, and finally returned, half human, half something else. He lived for centuries, guiding the Empire in its dealings with aliens, for who knew better than he the risks and threats involved? Named Half A Man by the tabloid press of the day, he founded and trained the Investigators, represented the strong arm of the Empire, implacable and unforgiving. Finally killed by Owen Deathstalker during the rebellion.

  Or at least, his left side had been. Now his other human half was back, taking in the startled faces on all sides of the House. With only half a face, it was hard to tell whether he was smiling, but he might have been.

  "I am Half A Man," he said finally, his cold voice carrying loud and clear on the quiet. "The real Half A Man. The real Captain Fast. The creature you previously knew and harbored with that name was a fake and a deceiver. I am the real thing, finally escaped from inhuman captors to bring you vital news and a terrible warning."

  There was a long pause after that, as everybody waited for someone else to work out what to say. Finally Toby Shreck stepped cautiously forward, Flynn right there beside him, his camera hovering above their heads to get the best shot. Toby stopped what he hoped was a safe distance away, and gave the partly shimmering figure his best professional smile.

  "Welcome back, Captain Fast, from wherever you've been. I'm sure you'll understand if we're all a little confused. Perhaps you'd be so good as to fill us in on… the true story of Half A Man."