Deathstalker Rebellion (23 page)

The leader, usually referred to as Mr. Perfect, was a tall naked Adonis, his impossibly defined musculature gleaming with sweat, though he never actually did anything but stand there. He had harsh, forbidding features that were just a little too classically handsome. He even had a dimple in his chin, the bastard. Finlay carefully refrained from looking at Mr. Perfect’s genitals. It would only depress him. Next to Mr. Perfect, a mandala of ever-shifting shapes and colors hung unsupported in midair, a spinning wheel of interlocking patterns. Finlay didn’t like to look at that too much, either. The sudden changes in color and brightness, and the way they swirled away into nothingness, made his head ache. The third leader presented his or her self as a twenty-foot dragon wrapped around the branches of a tall tree. It didn’t speak much, as a rule, but its great golden eyes rarely blinked, and it gave the impression of listening very carefully. Finlay also had a lurking suspicion that just maybe the tree might be more than it seemed, too.

To put off making his report, Finlay looked around at the medium-size crowd attending the meeting. Finlay’s reports always drew a crowd. He smiled at them pleasantly, and they smiled back and bowed their heads in respect. A few even applauded. There was the usual mixture of elves in their leathers and chains, clones with the same face, and assorted hangers-on, like him, tolerated by the powers that be because they were useful. Apart from the expectant crowd, people were also darting in and out—carrying messages, making their own reports to lesser officials, or just earwigging in the hope of picking up something useful. The underground thrived on gossip.

And then Finlay’s roving gaze juddered to a halt, and his jaw dropped as he recognized two faces at the front of the crowd. Two faces he’d never expected to see together, let alone in the underground. Adrienne Campbell and Evangeline Shreck. His wife and his lover, chatting happily together and apparently getting on like a house on fire. His first thought was that it had to be some kind of esper illusion, some extremely nasty joke or trick to throw him off balance, but no one apart from him knew about the two women in his life. So it had to be them. Here, Together, Finlay looked quickly around for the nearest exit. Stuff his report, he had to get out of here. There were some things no man could face. Maybe if he just turned and ran very quickly …

“Finlay Campbell, attend us,” said the mandala in a loud and piercing voice that echoed painfully inside his head, and that was that. Apparently, the voice hadn’t just been aimed at him, as everyone else was now looking in his direction. Finlay sighed resignedly and strode forward to nod briefly to the esper leaders. He didn’t get too close. There was something about the projected illusions that put his mental teeth on edge. He gave them a brisk salute, as much for the crowd as anything, but didn’t bother with standing to attention. If they wanted a soldier, they could get one. He was just a troublemaker on a grand scale, with a reputation to live down to.

“Can you slow your colors down a bit?” he said sharply to the mandala. “I’m starting to get seasick. I don’t know why you three are bothering with the illusions anyway. I’ve given up being impressed for Lent. Don’t you trust me, after all I’ve done for you?”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” said Mr. Perfect in his pleasant, charismatic voice. “What you don’t know, someone else can’t make you tell them. Security is vital, now more than ever.”

Finlay sniffed loudly, carefully not looking in Adrienne and Evangeline’s direction. He could feel cold beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “I take it you want a report. All right. I killed Lord William St. John and a lot of his people, stole his personal flyer and got clean away. End of report. Can I go now please? Back in my quarters, a large brandy is calling for me with growing impatience.”

He ignored the disappointed murmurs from the crowd, his
gaze fixed on Mr. Perfect as the least disturbing of the three leaders. The mandala’s colors flowed suddenly in a direction his eyes tried to follow in spite of himself, but couldn’t, and then its voice echoed loudly in the wide chamber.

“Normally, we would press you for a more detailed report, but there is no time. We need you to go out on another mission. Immediately.”

Finlay stared at the leaders, for a moment almost lost for words. “You want
what?
I’ve only just got back, damn it! I’ve been cut at, shot at, chased halfway to hell and back while dodging in and out the pastel towers on a glorified gravity sled, and only just got away in one piece, and you want me to go out again? Does the phrase
Stick it where the sun don’t shine
sound at all familiar? Have you all gone crazy, or are you just harboring a death wish? On the ground that if you don’t change your minds about this new mission in one hell of a hurry, I am going to find what’s behind these over-rehearsed mirages of yours and slice and dice all three of you into pie fillings! I am tired, hurt, and completely lacking in the sense of humor department. And no I don’t have any sense of loyalty or honor. I’m an aristocrat, remember? I’m not going anywhere till I’ve had a good long soak in a hot tub, three or four good meals on the same plate, and an extremely long and uninterrupted nap. I am like a disrupter. I need to recharge my batteries between jobs. Right now my batteries are sitting in a corner crying their eyes out, and my get-up-and-go has got up and gone without leaving a forwarding address. In other words, no I’m not bloody going!”

The crowd applauded. This was what they liked to hear. Finlay looked hopefully at the esper leaders, but they’d heard it all from him before, and it hadn’t impressed them then. Mr. Perfect rippled his muscles impressively and looked sternly at Finlay.

“This mission is vital. The security of the whole underground is at stake. During your absence, a previously unheard of band of rebels attacked the city. They invaded the Income Tax and Tithes Headquarters, disrupted the computer systems with great efficiency and thoroughness, and made their escape in a Hadenman starship. Our previous contacts with this group had been somewhat tentative, but their actions have established our new allies as a force of great
power, if not subtlety. They also brought us news of great importance. Jack Random has returned to lead them.”

The crowd burst into applause and scattered cheering. Finlay didn’t join in. He’d heard of the professional rebel, everyone had, but the man had to be getting on in years now. And he didn’t trust legends anymore. Not since he found he’d become one himself.

“What’s all this got to do with the new mission I’m not going on?” he said loudly, and the applause died away as everyone looked interestedly at the esper leaders and waited for their reply. This was why they enjoyed Finlay’s reports. He always gave a great performance. Mr. Perfect looked steadily at Finlay.

“Thanks to our new friends’ attack, Golgotha’s defenses and security systems are currently in tatters. Things are now possible that were not before. You will remember Julian Skye. It was only thanks to him that the underground was able to reform itself after Silo Nine. Skye has been captured. They haven’t had him long, but it is imperative that he doesn’t talk. He alone knows all the locations, names, and passwords that made our reforming possible. There are blocks and defenses in his mind, but they won’t last long once the Empire mind techs really get to work on him. Any other time, we would have been helpless to retrieve the situation, but in the current chaos, who knows what might be achieved by one determined man?”

“Who knows what might be achieved by a small army with lots of weapons?” said Finlay doggedly. “Think of all the other prisoners you could rescue.”

“We can’t risk losing any more of our people,” said the mandala. “Skye is being held in the maximum security area. Even with the present disruption, he will undoubtably be very well guarded, by both human and inhuman guards. One man might sneak in and out, where an army could not hope to. You will be that one man.”

“Because I’m brave, talented, and entirely expendable?”

“Exactly. It helps that you are also the most likely to succeed in such a desperate mission, despite the odds. What’s the matter, Finlay? I thought you liked a challenge?”

“This isn’t a challenge, it’s a death sentence. And contrary to popular impressions, I don’t do suicide missions. Find another sucker.”

“You will this time. Skye must be rescued or silenced be
fore he talks. You will decide which option is the most practical, under the cirumstances.”

“Hello? Are you listening to me? I’m not going!”

“We have a trace on Skye. All espers in the underground have a telepathic beacon, buried deep in their minds. The Empire hasn’t silenced it yet, so we have his exact location. Which means we can teleport you right to him.”

“All right,” said Finlay. “I’ll bite. What’s the snag?”

“The Empire must know about the beacon. They’ve captured enough espers before and silenced their beacons quite efficiently. If Skye hasn’t been blocked, it can only be because he is being set up as bait in a trap. They know how badly we need his silence. They’re expecting a small army. They won’t expect you. However, we feel it only fair to warn you that while we can teleport you an, we will almost certainly not be able to teleport you out again. The Empire will no doubt have taken measures to prevent that.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Finlay. “You’re going to drop me right in the middle of the Golgotha interrogation center, surrounded by legions of armed guards, both human and inhuman, and it’s up to me to free Skye and fight my way out?”

“That’s right,” said Mr. Perfect. “A walk in the park. We have every confidence in you. After all, since it’s so obviously a trap, there’s always the chance they won’t be expecting anyone to actually walk into it. Let alone one man on his own. You should take them entirely by surprise.”

“I can’t help thinking
should
is the operative word there,” said Finlay. “I told you, I don’t do suicide missions. And I haven’t heard one thing so far that’s going to change my mind.”

“That’s why they wanted me to be here,” said Evangeline. She walked slowly forward to join him, their eyes holding contact all the way. She put out her arms to hold him, but he stopped her with an upraised hand.

“Don’t. I’m covered in muck and blood. I’ll get your dress dirty.”

Evangeline looked him over, trying not to wince at the sight of his wounds, and shook her head sadly. “More blood. More pain and suffering, on my behalf. I’ve always known you only do this for me. You’ve never given a damn for the rebellion or the underground, have you?”

“I needed something to do down here,” said Finlay un
comfortably. “Something to keep me busy. And I do care, in my way. I still remember what I saw in Silo Nine, down in Wormboy Hell. I will not allow that kind of suffering and horror to continue. I have sworn a death oath, upon my blood and my honor, to fight to put an end to Silo Nine and the system that produced it. The underground’s the best way for me to do that. But I’m still not going on this mission, Evie. Not even for you. I know my limitations.”

“So do I. You’re quite right. It probably will get you killed. But we need you to do this mission. I could come with you, if you like. Fight at your side, die beside you.”

“No! I don’t want that. I nearly lost you in Silo Nine. I won’t risk that again. I need to know you’re safe. I wouldn’t want to live without you. Is this Skye bastard really so important?”

“If he talks, the underground will have to scatter again. Thousands of clones and espers and their supporters would risk capture or death all over again. It could take anything from ten to twenty years before we could pull ourselves back together again, and that’s being optimistic. The underground might not survive at all. Certainly the rebellion would be set back indefinitely. It’s the timing that’s so ironic. Things are finally going our way, Finlay. These new rebels, with Jack Random to lead them, could be the final spark we need to blow the whole corrupt Empire apart.”

“What do you want me to do, Evie?”

“I want what you want: for us to be here, safe, together. But what we want doesn’t matter anymore. If Skye talks, what little we have will be taken from us. You have to go, Finlay. You’re the only one who stands a chance of bringing this off and coming back alive.”

“And if I don’t? If I get myself killed, fighting for the damn Cause?”

“Then part of me will die with you,” said Evangeline, looking at him steadily. “I know what we’re asking of you. What I’m asking. It’s tearing me apart. But …”

“But you’re still asking.”

“Yes. I know my duty. To every esper and clone who suffered in Silo Nine, or suffers every day as non-people in the Empire.”

Finlay smiled briefly. “You always did fight dirty.”

“I love you, Finlay. If you say no, I’ll still love you.”

“I love you, Evie. Even though you’re asking.”

They looked at each other for a long time, seeing nothing but each other, their love so strong and fierce it filled the chamber. The crowd was silent, holding its breath. So Adrienne cleared her throat and stepped forward.

“Don’t do it, Finlay. You’d have to be crazy to take on a mission like this. Everyone’s been telling me what a great fighter you are, but no one could face these odds and come back in one piece.”

Finlay smiled coldly at her. “You never did believe in me, Adrienne.”

“That’s not the point. Let them find somebody else. There’s always somebody else.”

“There isn’t time,” said Finlay. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Damn it, stop Fighting me! I’m worried about you!”

“Really? What brought that on?”

“Damned if I know. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. But Evangeline and I have become rather close just recently, much to our mutual surprise, and since she’s clearly not stupid or easily impressed, I’m forced to the opinion that you must be something of the hero and fighter she says you are. Though if you’re that good an actor, you should be on the stage. But this assignment has suicide mission written all over it. You might as well walk into the Arena with no weapons and one leg tied behind your back. Don’t go, Finlay. I don’t want you dying before I’ve had a chance to finally get to know you. Tell them to stuff their mission. There’s always another way, if you look hard enough.”