"History is what the Empire says it is," said Moon in his rasping, buzzing voice. "They decide what gets recorded. But even the brightest flower has manure at its roots."
"No," said Owen. "It doesn't have to be this way. I will not stand for this. I am a Deathstalker, and I will not allow this to continue."
"What are you going to do?" said Hazel. "Overthrow the Empire?"
Owen looked at her for a long moment. "I don't know. Maybe. If that's what it takes." He turned away from her and the dead child and walked over to the Hadenman. He studied Moon thoughtfully. "Last I heard, there'd been less than a dozen sightings of Hadenmen throughout the Empire. What do you think I can do for you? The Empress put an order of execution on you all as a threat to the Empire and Humanity itself. Can't say I blame her, given the results of your rebellion. You killed millions in your uprising. If you'd succeeded—"
"We'd have killed millions more," said Moon. It was hard to read emotions in his inhuman and buzzing voice, but Owen thought he sensed as much regret as defiance. "We were fighting for our freedom. Our survival. We lost that battle, but the war goes on. I am not the last of my kind. On the lost world of Haden, floating alone in its dark void, an army of my people lies sleeping in the Tomb of the Hadenmen, waiting only for the call to wake again. We learned the hard way that we couldn't win fighting alone. We need allies. Allies like you, Deathstalker. Your only chance for survival now is to raise an army and go to war against the Empress Lionstone. You are a Deathstalker; many would follow you where they wouldn't follow another. Your name always stood for truth and justice and triumph in battle. I speak for the Hadenmen. We would fight beside you, in return for our freedom."
"Hold it, hold it," said Owen, putting up his hands defensively. "This is all going too fast for me. I can't lead a rebellion. I'm a historian, not a warrior."
"On the other hand," Hazel said thoughtfully, "he's right that we can't keep running forever. Eventually, they'll track us down and kill us. We've become too important. If even Mistworld isn't safe…"
"That's not enough," said Owen. "Rebellion against the throne is against everything I was brought up to believe in."
"Not against the throne," said Hazel. "Against the Empress."
Owen looked at her. "I made that distinction earlier."
"I know. I was listening." Hazel hurried on before he could say anything. "At least think about it, Owen. You said you wanted to stop things like that girl from happening."
"I need to think about this," said Owen. "You're asking too much of me."
"Time is not on our side," said Moon. "You must choose soon, or the choice may be taken away from you by events."
Owen looked at the Hadenman almost angrily. "What do you want from me, Moon?"
"Right now? Transport. You have a starship and I do not. I want passage with you to lost Haden and my waiting brethren."
Whatever answer Owen might have expected, that wasn't it. The location of the planet Haden was one of the greatest mysteries of the Empire. All knowledge of its coordinates had vanished at the end of the Hadenman rebellion: the last desperate gamble of the augmented men. And despite all the Empire's increasingly desperate efforts, Haden had remained lost for the better part of two centuries. In an Empire built on information, that should have been impossible. But somehow the augmented men, or their agents, had contrived to wipe every piece of information on Haden and its people from every computer in the Imperial Matrix. As a historian, Owen had found that hard to believe, but after wasting months of research time tracking down rumors and glimpses without getting anywhere, he had been forced to admit he was beaten. Haden was lost, by its own wishes, and would remain so. And so it passed out of history and into legend, a nightmare with which to threaten disobedient children.
Be good, or the Hadenman will get you.
Owen looked thoughtfully at Tobias Moon. "You have the coordinates for Haden?"
"Unfortunately, no, or I wouldn't still be stuck here on Mistworld. But the answer is out there, somewhere, and I will find it. Until then, I offer myself as a soldier in your war. Get me some new energy crystals, and a good cybersurgeon to implant them, and I would be a formidable ally. And when I come at last to Haden, I will speak for you with my people. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"I don't know," said Owen. "I'm not sure of anything anymore. Even assuming that we can find Haden, eventually, do I really want to ally myself with the betrayers of humanity? The butchers of Brahmin II, the slaughterers of Madraguda? I could go down in history as one of the greatest traitors of all time."
"It doesn't matter whether you want us," said Moon calmly. "You need us, if your rebellion is to succeed."
"All right," said Owen. "You're my man, until I tell you otherwise. Now let's get out of here. I'm surprised we're not already hip deep in bounty hunters."
"Think about it," said Hazel. "Would you go rushing in after someone who'd just killed a Wampyr and seen off a whole pack of his blood junkies?"
"Good point," said Owen. "But let's get moving anyway. Standing around make me nervous."
"I think we should get you to a doctor first," said Hazel. "You took a lot of punishment before the Hadenman… helped you out."
"I've felt better," said Owen, "but I'll be all right. One of the more useful properties of boost. Any wound that doesn't actually kill me will heal itself, given time. I'm going to be rather fragile for a while, but I've got you and Moon to look after me, haven't I?"
Hazel thought that was getting a bit pointed and decided it was probably a good time to change the subject. "Where are we going?"
"The Olympus health spa, on Riverside, wherever the hell that is. If I'm going to lead an army of rebellion, I want Jack Random at my side. We'll look for your bounty hunter friend later, assuming she isn't already on our trail for the price on our heads."
"That is a possibility," Hazel admitted. "Friendship is fine, but credit lasts longer. All right, follow me. And let's keep to back alleys and the shadows where we can. I'm starting to feel like I've got a target painted on my back."
She set off more or less confidently into the mists, and Owen and Tobias Moon went after her. Owen strode along, looking at nothing, lost in thought. Events might be rushing him, but he still had his doubts and suspicions. What were the odds of a Hadenman turning up out of the blue just at the right moment to save his ass? Much more likely Moon had been following them for some time, waiting for a chance to look good and gain their confidence. But what made him so important to Moon, if it wasn't the price on his head? Surely there must have been some other ship Moon could have persuaded to get him offplanet. And for someone who claimed not to know the coordinates of Haden, he seemed pretty sure of finding the planet in the not too distant future. Owen scowled. And where did all this tie in with his late father's plot and plans, which had brought him to Mistworld in the first place?
More and more Owen was sure there were wheels within wheels, unseen forces subtly guiding him from the wings, the very things he'd spent most of his life trying to avoid. But if that was so, he had a few surprises in store for whoever was jerking his strings. If push came to shove, he could play that game, too. He was a Death stalker, and intrigue was in his blood. In the meantime… he decided to concentrate on the Hadenman. Did he, or his people, still have a private, hidden agenda? When awakened, would the army of augmented men really join with him, or could they secretly be intending to ally themselves with the rogue AIs on Shub, as the Empress had claimed so often in the past? Owen smiled briefly. He had no answers, or none he could trust, so for the moment he'd go along with Moon. And sleep with one eye open. He moved up alongside Hazel, and she nodded briefly.
"Yeah, I don't trust him either," she said quietly. "But I'd rather have him on our side than working against us. At least this way we can keep an eye on him."
"What do you suggest we do in the meantime?" said Owen.
"Trust no one. Think you can remember that?"
"You've never been to c
ourt, have you?" said Owen. "As an aristocrat, I learned to trust no one from a very early age.
Among the Families, you learn intrigue with your letters and numbers, or you don't survive to reach adulthood."
"Sounds a lot like Mistworld," said Hazel, and they both had to laugh. The Hadenman strode silently along behind them and kept his thoughts to himself.
The Olympus spa wasn't far, just the other side of Merchants' Quarter, but the walk was still far enough to chill Owen to the bone. Despite his confident words to Hazel, his wounds had taken a lot more out of him than he was willing to admit. He trudged along through the slush and the thickening mists and muttered direly to himself. He'd been on Mistworld nearly a whole day, and he still hadn't had one glimpse of the sun.
The spa, when they finally got there, didn't exactly make up for the long walk. It was trying desperately to look upmarket, but the neighborhood was against it. It was still an improvement over most of the places Hazel had led him to so far, but Owen couldn't say he was particularly impressed. The stone and timber buildings had clearly all seen better days, and the bare brickwork had been stained a varying gray from the continuous smoke of a nearby factory. The Olympus storefront was wide and brightly painted, and the name above the door was set out in letters so stylized and convoluted it was almost impossible to make them out. There were no windows, but tall plaques described the many wonders to be found inside, together with a series of claims for potential weight loss and muscle building that bordered on the miraculous. Owen gave the place a long, stern look, but it remained stubbornly unimpressive.
"I am not impressed," said Hazel.
"Give it a chance," said Owen automatically. "This is only the exterior. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to judge a place by its exterior?"
"She also told me to avoid outlaws, aristos and sucker joints. Can't say I'm doing too well on any of them. You really think we're going to find Jack Random in a dump like this? I mean, I'd heard he was down on his luck, but can you really see the legendary professional rebel running a cheap ripoff joint like this?"
"It's probably a cover," said Owen stubbornly. "Who'd think to look for him here?"
"He has a point," said Moon in his harsh, buzzing voice, and they both jumped slightly. "I wouldn't be seen dismantled in a place like this."
"The Abraxus people said we'd find him here," said Owen. "And I really don't feel like going back and arguing with them about it. I'm going in. Watch my back, keep your eyes open and your hands off the silver."
He strode up to the door and gave the bell chain a firm tug. He sensed as much as heard the others fall in behind him and smiled slightly. They just needed to be reminded who was in charge now and again. The door swung open, and Owen put on his best supercilious look. When in doubt, treat people like shit. Nine times out of ten they'll immediately assume you're a very superior person, probably there to investigate whatever scam they're running. In Owen's experience, most people had a scam of one kind or another running at any given time. He tried not to think about the other percentage. That was, after all, why he wore a sword.
The door swung back to reveal a tall, graceful, living goddess wearing a wide smile and a very skimpy outfit comprised mostly of black lace. She was also extremely muscular. Her arms and thighs bulged intimidatingly, and somehow Owen knew she did more sit-ups before breakfast each day than he managed in a month.
"Hi," she said breathlessly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Owen could think of several, one of which would almost certainly put his back out, but he made himself concentrate on the matter in hand. "We need to see the manager," he said in what he hoped was a firm, commanding voice.
"Of course," said the goddess, still smiling widely. "Do come in."
She stood back to let them enter. Owen strode confidently past her, but almost lost it when she took a sudden deep breath just as he drew level and her magnificent chest practically flew into his face. He moved quickly on into the reception area and took a few quiet deep breaths of his own. Behind him, he heard Hazel give one of her familiar sniffs of disapproval. The Hadenman remained quiet. Presumably he was above or beyond such things. The door shut behind them with a worryingly final sound, and then the goddess was with them again. She favored them all with another of her dazzling smiles and struck a casual pose that just happened to show off most of her muscles in high definition.
"Make yourselves comfortable," she suggested winningly. "I'll go tell the manager you're here."
She turned and left in a single smooth motion and disappeared out the far door before Owen could get his breath back. He looked at Tobias Moon.
"What a warm and understanding chest that girl had."
"Nice deltoids," said the Hadenman.
"When you two have finished drooling," said Hazel icily, "you might care to notice that she locked the front door behind us. If she's recognized you…"
"Relax," said Moon. "I'm with you now."
Hazel gave him a withering stare. "How are your batteries holding up?"
"I have more than enough power in my systems to deal with any problems we may encounter."
Hazel sniffed. "If you're so powerful and dangerous, how did you end up here?"
"I trusted the wrong people," said Moon, and there was something in his inhuman voice that kept her from continuing.
Owen looked around at the reception area. It seemed the safest thing to do. Even standing still and silent, there was something very disturbing about the Hadenman. Owen had now been in his company for nearly an hour and was no nearer feeling at ease. It was as though there was something within Moon that was always poised to strike, ready to kill at a moment's notice. Owen decided he wasn't going to think about that for a while and concentrated on the reception area.
He was tempted to sneer, but settled for a condescending smile. The Olympus' idea of fashion was at least twenty years out of date, and the furniture had clearly been designed by someone more interested in style than comfort. Not that he knew much about style, either. Owen decided against sitting down. He had a feeling one of those chairs could do terrible things to your lower back. Not unlike the goddess at the door…
His thoughts had just started to drift again when the door at the far end of reception swung open and a giant walked in. Owen realized after a moment that the newcomer wasn't really that tall, no more than six foot six at the most, but his great slabs of muscle made him seem much bigger. He was incredibly well developed, with muscles in places Owen wasn't sure he even had places. The man looked like he'd been lifting weights since he was a baby, and from the way his muscles flexed and swelled as he walked, Owen was surprised he could move around without pulling something painful. The giant came to a stop before them and gave them all a brief, impersonal smile. Owen was surprised again to realize the man was quite handsome. It just wasn't the first thing that got your attention, mainly because the giant was wearing only a pair of tight-fitting trousers, the better to show off his highly developed muscles. Among other things. Owen couldn't help noticing that Hazel was staring at the giant with undisguised fascination, all but devouring him with her eyes. Owen sniffed. There were more important things than muscles.
He coughed politely to get the giant's attention, and the huge man came to a halt before him. Owen felt like he was standing in a hole.
"I'm Tom Sefka," said the giant, in a voice so low it almost trembled in Owen's bones. "Manager and owner of the Olympus health spa. I'm assuming this is something important. Delia doesn't usually disturb me for anything less, but the Hadenman impressed her." He looked Moon over thoughtfully. "If you're looking to make some quick money, I've got several regulars who'd pay good money to take on an augmented man in the ring."
"Thanks," said Moon, "but I tend to break things when I play."
Sefka blinked at the inhuman voice, then turned back to Owen. "So what can I do for you?"
"We're looking for Jobe Ironhand," said Hazel, just a little breathlessly. "It's really importa
nt that we talk to him."
Sefka frowned. "You had me called away from my work just for that? What the hell do you want with him?"
"We rather assumed he was the owner or business partner," said Owen, and Sefka smiled unpleasantly.
"Hardly. You want Jobe, he's out back doing his chores. You can talk to him if you want, but don't keep him from his work. Come and see me when you're finished. You all look like you could use a little weight on your frames in the right places."
Owen frowned. "Won't Ironhand mind us just walking in on him?"
"It's not his place to mind," said Sefka. "He's only the janitor, after all. You'll find him through that door, second on the right and down the corridor. When you're finished with him, tell him the shower floors still need cleaning."
He nodded to them all briefly and turned and left, disappearing through the far door. Owen was a little surprised the floor didn't shake beneath him when he moved. Hazel watched Sefka go with hungry eyes. Owen felt a little irritated. Sefka wasn't that special. Probably had muscles where his brains should be.
"Maybe we should see him afterward," said Hazel. "I'd just love to put my body in his hands."
"If you could control your animal lusts for a moment," Owen said icily, "we really ought to find this Jobe and sort out what's going on here. The Abraxus must have got it wrong. Perhaps Random is someone else here at the spa."
"Give me an hour alone with that body, and I'd show him some animal lusts he'd never forget," said Hazel.
"Muscles aren't everything," said Moon.
"How true," said Hazel. "It's not just his muscles I'm interested in."
"I wonder if this place has cold showers," said Owen.
"Let's go find Jobe Ironhand," said Moon diplomatically. "Maybe then we'll find out what a living legend is doing working as a janitor."
"It's regular work," said Hazel. "Maybe the pay's good."
Moon looked around him. "It would have to be."
Hazel shrugged. "Even a professional rebel probably has to turn his hand to some honest work now and again to put food on the table between rebellions."
Deathstalker d-1 Page 22