Mistworld (Deathstalker Prelude)

by Green, Simon R.

  Sterling cut at Topaz’s throat with his scimitar, and she caught it easily on her shield. She swept her sword out in a long arc for his gut, and he brought his shield down just in time to block it. Their swords flashed crimson and gold in the lamplight as they circled each other, searching out strengths and weaknesses, looking always for the opening that would let them use their guns. Hit the shield at the wrong angle, and the energy beam would come right back at you. And if you found an opening and missed, the odds were you’d never get a second chance. Unfortunately, a moving target is very hard to hit when you have to watch out for a sword as well.

  Topaz and Sterling cut and parried, thrust and recovered, their swords meeting and flying apart in a flurry of sparks. The two shields slammed together again and again, static sparking between them where the two energy fields met. Sterling used all his old gladiator’s tricks, plus a few new ones he’d picked up in Mistport, but to no avail. Topaz might not be his better with the sword, but she was strong and fast and tireless, driven by some inner demon, while he… had got soft. His breathing grew harsh and ragged, and sweat ran down his forehead to sting his eyes. His sword grew heavier with every blow, and his arms and back ached unmercifully. I should have shot her from cover when I had the chance, he thought bitterly. Who would have thought the bitch would be this good a fighter? And still they circled each other, swords probing and cutting and thrusting in a never-ending rhythm. Sterling glared at the face before him, cold and savage and pitiless, and a slow fear ate at his heart.

  And finally he made a mistake, his first and his last. He leant too far forward in a lunge, and couldn’t pull back in time. Topaz’s sword flashed down to sink deep into his thigh, cutting clean through to the bone and flying out again in a flurry of blood. Sterling screamed and fell full-length on the floor as his leg collapsed beneath him. His shield flickered and went out. He lifted his gun for a last desperate shot, and Topaz leant quickly forward and slammed down her force shield. The razor-sharp edge of the energy field cut cleanly through his wrist, severing his hand and cauterizing the stump in the same moment. Sterling screamed again, and fainted. Topaz stepped back and looked about her to see if anyone cared to dispute her win. Nobody did. She turned back to Sterling, then quickly lifted her gun to cover Gaunt as he reached for the disrupter Sterling had dropped.

  “Don’t try it,” said Topaz. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Of course,” said Gaunt. “The spoils of war.” He straightened up and stepped back into the crowd. Topaz sheathed her sword, and bent warily down to retrieve the gun. She shoved it into her belt, straightened up, and then glared coldly at the unconscious ex-gladiator.

  “Wake him up,” she said curtly to Gaunt.

  Gaunt nodded to his bartender, who produced a bucket of soapy water from behind the bar. Gaunt took the bucket and emptied it over Sterling. He came to in a rush, coughing and spluttering. Topaz turned off her force shield and holstered her gun. Then, taking the front of Sterling’s tunic in one hand, she hauled him to his feet and slammed him back against the bar. She pinned his legs with her body and then slowly increased the pressure of her arm, pushing his chest steadily back until Sterling thought his spine would break. He lifted his arms to try and stop her, and then nearly passed out again when he saw the blackened stump of his left arm. Topaz pushed her face close to his, and Sterling trembled at the cold implacable anger he saw there.

  “Who killed my husband, Sterling? Tell me his name.”

  “I don’t know his name,” Sterling muttered, and then he gasped as Topaz increased the pressure on his chest. “My back! You’re breaking my back!”

  “Tell me his name. Tell me who murdered my husband.”

  “Taylor knows! Ask him! He was my partner, he knows all the names. I just followed his orders.”

  “And where do I find this Taylor?” asked Topaz. She smiled humourlessly as Sterling hesitated, and the muscles in her arm bunched and corded as she bent him back a little further. Sterling’s face contorted in agony.

  “Taylor’s a Hadenman. Works for Mistport security, like me. He knows who killed your husband. Ask him!”

  “And there’s nothing more you can tell me?”

  “Nothing! I swear it!”

  “I think I believe you,” said Topaz. “Which is unfortunate, for you.”

  Her arm muscles suddenly swelled, and Sterling screamed once as his spine snapped. Topaz drew her sword and cut his throat in one swift motion, stepping quickly back to avoid the jetting blood. Sterling fell limply to the floor and lay still.

  “That’s one for you, my husband,” said Topaz quietly. She looked slowly around her, and the surrounding crowd fell back, unable to meet her burning gaze. Even Gaunt looked away. Topaz smiled briefly and made her way undisputed out of the Redlance tavern.

  The silence held while she climbed the stairs and opened the door, but the moment the door closed behind her, the crowd returned to its original noisy and boisterous mood. The roar of sound returned, only slightly muted by what had been witnessed. Gaunt gestured to two of his men, and they dragged away Sterling’s body and then returned for the two bodyguards. A serving wench set about cleaning up the blood with a bucket and mop. Blackjack emerged from the door behind the bar and made his way over to join Gaunt.

  “Thanks for not telling her I was here.”

  “She didn’t ask me,” said Gaunt.

  “If she had, would you have told her?”

  Gaunt shrugged. “Right now, I don’t think there’s anyone in this city who could deny that woman anything.”

  Blackjack nodded slowly. “I think you may be right, Gaunt. You may well be right.”

  A dozen city Watchmen were waiting for Topaz when she left the Redlance tavern. She stopped outside the door, and glanced quickly about her. The Watchmen had fanned out to cut off all the exits. Topaz looked at the man in charge, and nodded resignedly.

  “Hello, John. Looking for someone?”

  “Port Director Steel still needs you,” said John Silver, the starport duty esper. “In fact, he needs you urgently.”

  “That fat old thief can wait,” said Topaz shortly.

  “No, he can’t; he’s running out of time.”

  “Then get somebody else.”

  “It has to be you, Investigator.”

  Topaz scowled, and searched Silver’s face for some sign of weakness. Instead, she saw only a weariness and a calm sense of duty that sat oddly on his youthful features. He wore a set of thick, superbly cut furs topped by the scarlet cloak of the esper, but they couldn’t disguise his lean muscular frame. He wore a simple short-sword on his hip in a well-worn scabbard. Silver had been a pirate before coming to Mistworld, and Topaz knew that if it came to a fight she’d have to kill him to stop him. And she wasn’t sure she could do that. Silver had brought both her and Gunn into the city Watch, and given them both a reason for living when they both needed one badly. He was the nearest thing Topaz had to a friend.

  “How did you find me?” she asked finally, more for something to say than because she really cared.

  “You left quite a trail,” said Silver. “Including four wrecked taverns and more than sixty injured people. They’re still trying to get one man down from a chandelier in the Green Man.”

  “I’m close, John,” said Topaz urgently. “I’m so close to finding the man who killed Michael. I can’t let you stop me. I daren’t let the trail get cold.”

  “You’re needed at the starport, Investigator. There’s something strange aboard the Balefire. Steel thinks it could be a threat to the whole of Mistport, and you know he doesn’t panic easily. You must come back with us, Topaz.”

  “Or?”

  “There’s a warrant for your arrest. You’ve upset several prominent people in the course of this evening, and they all want your head. As yet the warrant isn’t signed. If you agree to help Steel, it won’t be.”

  “You think I give a damn about your warrant?”

  “Don’t throw your lif
e away for no good reason, Topaz. Michael wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  “I swore him the oath of vengeance. The mercenary’s oath.”

  “This job shouldn’t take you long, Topaz. A few hours, at most. In the meantime, if you’ll tell me your lead I’ll have these men track it down for you.”

  Topaz looked around at the silent Watchmen. “And if I don’t go back willingly, you’ll have me dragged. Is that it?”

  “Pretty much,” said John Silver. “That’s why I came with them. You just might be able to take out all these Watchmen, but you wouldn’t kill me.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “No. But then, where’s the fun in being sure?”

  He laughed cheerfully, and after a moment Topaz smiled in reply.

  “I’m looking for a starport security man called Taylor,” she said finally. “He’s a Hadenman, and he knows who killed Michael.”

  “Shouldn’t take us long to find him,” said Silver confidently. “By the time you’re finished with Steel, we’ll have him waiting for you.”

  “I hope so,” said Topaz, “Because if you let him slip through your fingers, John, I may kill you, friend or no.”

  She walked away into the swirling mists, and after a moment Silver and the Watch followed her back to the starport.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  * * *

  Starlight

  DIRECTOR Steel waited impatiently by the main landing pad, scowling at the night’s cold and gnawing hungrily at a sweetmeat. The sun had been down a good hour and more, and the night chill was growing steadily worse. It was going to be a hard winter. Steel chewed slowly, savouring the rich flavour of the confection, and stamped his feet on the snow to keep them warm. He always felt the cold worst in his feet. The Balefire towered high above him, a mountain of gleaming steel beside which the slender control tower with its bright electric lights seemed nothing more than a garish toy. There was no wind, and the mists hung heavily across the landing field, muffling everything in a featureless grey blanket. And out of the mists came Investigator Topaz.

  Her face was grim and brooding, and she came stalking out of the fog with a long, impatient stride that was all the more intimidating because it was entirely unselfconscious. Steel studied her thoughtfully as she approached him, and began to wonder if perhaps he’d made the wrong decision. He respected and he feared Topaz, but he hadn’t a single clue as to what went on behind those cold, implacable eyes. From what he’d been hearing, she’d spent most of the day and evening blazing a bloody trail through the seamier side of Thieves Quarter, in search of the man who’d killed her husband. Steel admired her for it; he wouldn’t have entered that part of Thieves Quarter without a disrupter in each hand and an army of Watchmen to back him up. And yet the Topaz he remembered from three years earlier had always been cold and unemotional, letting nothing get between her and her work, and it was that impartial Investigator’s skill he needed now.

  He frowned slightly as he watched her draw near. She was supposed to have been wounded fighting the Hob hounds, but you couldn’t tell from looking at her. If she felt any trace of pain or weakness, it didn’t show in her face or in her bearing. Part of her Investigator’s training, Steel supposed. He looked again at her face, and smiled slightly. Topaz didn’t look at all happy about being called away from her vengeance. Steel felt no regrets. He needed her help, her Investigator’s cunning. He bowed politely to Topaz as she finally came to a halt before him, and she nodded curtly in return before turning away to stare up at the Balefire.

  The massive starship brooded sullenly on its pad, the vast burnished hull glowing ruddy from the surrounding torches before disappearing into the mists. Jagged holes pockmarked the stem and stern, and one whole section lay broken open to the mercy of the bitter cold. A central vane had been stripped of its covering, the naked steel struts pitted and corroded like ancient bones. It was a wonder the Balefire had held together long enough to reach Mistworld. Steel scowled, and took another bite of sweetmeat. He distrusted wonders.

  “How long before we can go aboard, Director?”

  The dry, harsh voice startled him, and Steel had to swallow quickly to empty his mouth before answering.

  “Depends on the Captain. He knows we’re here.”

  “Why send for me, Steel? There must be others in the Watch with more experience than me.”

  “You’re different,” said Steel flatly. “You used to be an Investigator.”

  Topaz looked at him sharply. “What makes you so sure you need an Investigator?”

  “My espers have scanned this ship a dozen times, and the results are never the same twice. There’s something unusual aboard this ship, something… strange.”

  “Alien?”

  “Possibly. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. That’s the one thing my espers do agree on. It’s dangerous, it’s powerful, and it’s hiding somewhere on the Balefire. I need you to help me find out what it is, and how best to deal with it. That is what an Investigator is for, isn’t it?”

  Topaz laughed suddenly, and Steel stirred uncomfortably at the bitter, unforgiving sound. “Shall I tell you what an Investigator is for, Steel? The Empire takes us when we’re still children, and destroys what makes us human. We’re not allowed emotions. They might weaken us. We’re not allowed conscience or empathy or compassion. They might interfere with our training. The Empire shapes our bodies and moulds our minds, and when they’ve taught us all they know about killing and deception and the uncovering of hidden truths, they send us out among the stars, to the frontiers of the Empire. We investigate new alien cultures as they are discovered, and determine whether they pose any threat to the Empire. If they do, or if we think they might, we have to advise the Empire on how best to subjugate or destroy the aliens. Enslavement or genocide; there’s not much difference in the end. They call us ambassadors, but really we’re just highly skilled assassins. And that, Steel, is what an Investigator is for.”

  Steel shifted from foot to foot uncertainly, and searched for something to say. “Right now, all I care about is whatever’s hiding in the Balefire. Are you going to help me or not?”

  Topaz shrugged. “The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can get back to my own business. If there is an alien aboard this ship, I’ll find it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Topaz looked at him suspiciously. “Why are you here in person, Steel? Afraid the refugees might try to smuggle some valuables past you?”

  “I know my duty,” said Steel coldly. “I carry it out.”

  “For a price.”

  Steel looked away, unable to meet Topaz’s sardonic gaze. “I hear you had a little trouble delivering our memory crystal, Investigator.”

  “Bad news travels fast. A burglar tried to steal the crystal one night; apparently no one had told him I was a Siren.”

  Steel smiled slightly. “How very unfortunate for him. Has he been identified yet?”

  “Not yet,” said Topaz. “Somehow he got away from me.

  Steel raised an eyebrow.

  “The crystal was still locked securely within its casket,” said Topaz evenly. “And it was still there when I delivered it to your security people. As you are no doubt happy to hear, Director.”

  “Of course, Investigator, of course.”

  Steel took another bite at his sweetmeat, pulled his cloak tightly about him, and glanced curiously at Topaz’s choice of outfit. He’d noticed immediately that she was wearing her old Investigator’s uniform again, but thought it best not to comment on it if she chose not to. As he watched, Topaz turned slightly away to look at the Balefire’s main airlock, and Steel saw a charred hole in the back of the thick navy blue cloak. He realised he was looking at the hole left by the energy beam that had killed the Investigator’s husband. Steel shivered suddenly, not entirely from the cold. How could she bear to wear the damned thing? He shrugged slightly, and looked away. The moon shone palely through the mists, and a light snow was falling. Steel wolfed down the las
t of the sweetmeat and wiped his greasy fingers on his furs. He quickly pulled his glove back on and beat his hands together to drive out the cold. If Topaz thought her presence was going to be enough to stop him collecting his usual tithe from whatever loot the refugees had brought with them, she could damn well think again. He’d just have to be a little more careful, that was all.

  Captain Starlight sat in his command chair, staring out over the smoke-blackened bridge. His flight computers were silent, their lights dimming as the power levels fell. The main viewscreen was dead, and only static whispered from the speakers. Empty seats that should have held crew members stared accusingly back at him. When he slept, which wasn’t often, Starlight heard his dead crew calling to him. Another light snapped out as the ship’s main computers continued shutting down any system that wasn’t essential to the ship’s integrity. Starlight couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d seen the damage reports; the Balefire wasn’t going anywhere without a major refit. Darkness gathered on the bridge, and accusing shadows waited at the corners of his eyes.

  Starlight stirred slowly in his chair, tiredness dragging at his limbs like chains. Two thirds of his crew lay dead on Tannim, burned to ashes and less than ashes by the Empire hellships. His ship was a wreck, and he was an Outlaw. Starlight grinned mirthlessly. Poetic justice? Hardly. He’d broken his share of laws and regulations—what starship Captain hadn’t?—but he’d done nothing to deserve this.