Deathstalker Rebellion (41 page)

Her found her down a side street, not hiding but not in plain sight, either. She was talking with a Hadenman and didn’t look around as Owen approached. The augmented man handed her a small metal flask, which Hazel immediately made disappear about her person, and only then looked around to scowl at Owen. The Hadenman walked off in the opposite direction, not looking once in Owen’s direction.

“What the hell are you doing here, aristo?” said Hazel in the coldest voice Owen had ever heard from her.

“I could ask you the same question,” said Owen easily. “We’re supposed to be attending a council meeting up on the Last Standing, remember? It’ll look rather bad if we’re not there; we are two of the guests of honor, after all.”

Hazel shrugged. “You go. They don’t need me. Planning’s not what I do best.”

“I had noticed. But they definitely want both of us. For PR as much as anything, to show our faces to potential supporters and backers. What were you and the Hadenman talking about?”

“Didn’t you recognize him? That was Moon.”

Owen looked quickly after the departing figure, but he was already gone, disappeared back into the anonymous host of Hadenmen. Owen looked back at Hazel. “No, I didn’t recognize him. How did you find him; he looks the same as all the others now.”

“He found me.”

“Did … did he remember you?”

“Not really. He recognized me. You and I are part of all Hadenman programming. But Tobias Moon is gone. There’s nothing left of the man we once knew.” She shrugged briefly. “No big deal. We were never close.”

Owen just nodded. It would only embarrass Hazel if he pushed her to admit she’d cared enough to seek Moon out in a city most people wouldn’t have entered without a gun at their back. Hazel liked to think she was above such weaknesses as caring. “What was that flask he gave you?” he said finally, changing the subject.

“Don’t question me, aristo. My business is my business. Now, let’s go. We have a meeting to attend, remember?”

Women
, thought Owen, though he had the sense not to say it aloud. All this, over a little expressed emotion. Heaven
forfend that Hazel d’Ark should be seen to be anything but the strong, unyielding pirate with a heart of solid stone. He gestured for her to lead the way, and they set off back through the Hadenman city. None of the augmented men they passed looked up from what they were doing.

“They’re going to have to work to make this a tourist spot,” said Hazel. “No bars, no sights, and the atmosphere’s terrible.”

“Right,” said Owen. “Maybe a petting zoo would help.”

“I doubt it. They’d probably put people in it.” Hazel paused and glanced sideways at Owen. “Does it bother you that they’re all being so nice and reasonable? I mean, these people, and I use the term loosely, used to be the official Enemies of Humanity. It used to be that if a human saw a Hadenman, it was the last thing he ever saw. Why are they helping us with the rebellion? What’s in it for them?”

“Dead humans, I expect. The old divide-and-conquer bit. They get to see the Empire fall and refine their fighting abilities at the same time. We’ll just have to keep a close watch on our backs and make sure Haden doesn’t get too powerful again. We can’t do without them, Hazel. They’re all we’ve got to throw against the Empire’s armies.”

“And what if they’re just going along with us to discover all our weak spots, so they can take us out once we’ve knocked over the Empire?”

“Then, you and I will have to step in and save the day,” said Owen calmly. “That’s our job, remember? We’re the heroes here.”

“Yeah,” said Hazel. “Heroes.”

They teleported up into the great Hall of the Last Standing to find everyone else had got there before them. The Hall itself was huge, bigger even than the Hall in Owen’s own Standing back on Virimonde, but it was still crowded from wall to wall with holos of politely chatting people. Everyone with an interest in rebellion had sent hologram representatives, if only to make sure they weren’t left out of anything important. Owen and Hazel were stuck out on the fringe, for which Owen at least was grateful. He wanted to get some idea of what kind of bear pit he was stepping into before he opened his mouth. He looked around him unobtrusively, but the sea of faces were mostly unfamiliar. Quite a few seemed awed by the sheer size of the Hall, though they were all
doing their best not to show it. Owen smiled slightly. They should be grateful they were in the Hall. The Hadenmen had wanted the meeting to take place in their city, but the humans turned that down very quickly, on the grounds that the city was just too bloody disturbing. There wasn’t much the five humans agreed on, but the city was quite definitely one of them. Giles in particular had been very firm. He was convinced the Hadenmen were doing a great deal more than just rebuilding their city; that they were up to things no human could hope to understand. Either way, they all agreed it would be in everyone’s best interests to maintain a safe distance between potential backers and the augmented men. The Hadenmen had insisted on sending a representative, in person, and people were keeping a safe distance from him, too. It didn’t seem to bother him. He held a glass of wine in his hand but didn’t drink from it, and smiled politely at anyone who passed. It wasn’t a particularly successful smile, but not bad for a Hadenman. Maybe he’d been practicing with a mirror.

There were hundreds of holos from every corner of the Empire, their signals bounced through a confusing series of relays, courtesy of the cyberats on Golgotha. Anyone trying to listen in would go crazy following the signals from relay to relay without ever catching up. Many of the representatives had been drawn by Jack Random’s name. The legendary professional rebel was still a powerful symbol, even though his defeats far outweighed his successes. The man himself was holding court in the center of the Hall, smiling broadly, with a word for everyone. Ruby Journey stood at his side, ready to snarl at anyone who got too close.

And yet it had to be said a great many people were shocked at seeing Jack’s present condition. The years and the defeats had not been kind to him, and his time in the hands of the Empire mind techs and torturers had left their mark on him, too. The legend of Jack Random had spread throughout the Empire, but that was mostly based on propaganda holos he’d circulated during his earlier, more successful days. That was then, this was now, and Jack didn’t look like a hero anymore.

He was a short, slight man in his late forties, who looked twenty years older. He had a thin lined face topped by ragged gray hair that looked like he cut it himself. He’d been muscular once, but the best you could call him now
was wiry. His hands had liver spots on the back, and they trembled constantly. He didn’t look like a legendary fighter and warrior anymore. He looked more like an old man up well past his bedtime.

Ruby Journey, on the other hand, looked like sudden death on two legs, with a glare to match. She’d been the best bounty hunter on Mistworld, which took some doing, and most people were giving her even more room than the Hadenman. They were perfectly safe, as holos, but somehow they only had to look at Ruby to find pressing reasons to be somewhere else. She was medium height, lithely muscled, wearing shiny black leathers under grubby white furs. She wore sword and gun on her hips, and no one had any doubts she knew how to use them. Her face was pale and pointed, with dark unwavering eyes and a fierce smile, under a helmet of short dark hair. She wasn’t pretty, but she was attractive in a dark and very dangerous way. Jack Random was winning bonus points for just being so relaxed in her company.

Owen and Hazel moved unhurriedly through the crowd, smiling and bowing and saying hello, glad you could make it, while trying to sound like they meant it. They also tried their best not to walk through people, but it was very crowded. Owen had more experience in diplomacy and lying with a straight face, so he made a rather better impression than Hazel, but he gave her credit for at least trying. She wasn’t the most sociable of people at the best of times, and of late she’d been more reserved and generally snappy than ever. Owen had tried to ask her tentatively if anything was wrong, but her cold glare kept him at a distance, along with everyone else. Presumably she was still mad about being trapped on a bleak and empty world light-years from anywhere civilized. Hazel liked her comforts and wasn’t particularly interested in politics. If you couldn’t drink it, eat it, or pick a fight with it, Hazel usually couldn’t care less. They finally finished their rounds and returned to the small self-service bar Giles had thoughtfully set up in a corner. Owen leaned an elbow on the bar and sighed. His cheeks ached. He hadn’t done so much smiling in years. Hazel allowed him to pour her a large one and scowled out at the crowd.

“Do you recognize any of these people?” she said quietly. “I’d hate to think I was putting on this show for a bunch of nobodies.”

“I know some of them,” said Owen, and then paused to raise an appreciative eyebrow at the excellent vintage in his glass. The Standing must have a superb wine cellar somewhere. Hazel gulped at hers like it was a cheap claret. Owen hid a wince and continued. “There’s a handful of lesser Lords, representatives of several Clans and business interests, and a few minor heroes. No one in Jack Random’s class, but it’s good they came. It means we’re being taken seriously. Hello, look over there. You know who that is, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do,” said Hazel. “That’s Investigator Topaz, from Mistworld. The only major-league esper ever to become an Investigator. The most powerful Siren the Empire ever knew. When she went rogue and made a run for Mistworld, they sent a whole company of marines after her, and she killed them all with a single song. She practically saved Mistworld single-handed when Imperial agents smuggled Typhoid Mary past the planet’s defenses. Never met her personally, and I can’t say I’m sorry. She’s supposed to be cold as ice and twice as deadly. I feel rather outclassed.”

“Don’t,” said Owen. “She came to us, remember?”

“Good point,” said Hazel. “But we’d better keep Ruby away from her. Just in case.”

They both looked around sharply as someone called Owen’s name, and a holo figure approached them, smiling widely. Dressed in brilliant silks color-matched to within an inch of their lives, he looked fat and prosperous and very pleased with himself. He bounced to a halt in front of them, bowed to Owen, and smiled and nodded to Hazel. “Owen, dear boy; so good to see you again.”

“I might have known you’d be here,” said Owen. “Never were one to miss an opportunity, were you, Elias? Hazel d’Ark, allow me to present to you Elias Gutman, adventurer and profiteer, a rotten branch from a distinguished tree. His Family sends him money regularly as long as he promises not to come home. He worked with my father on some of his dirtier deals, to raise money for his intrigues.”

“Very dirty but very profitable deals,” said Gutman still smiling. “Glad to see you’re finally following in your father’s footsteps. My colleagues and I expect great things from you.”

“My father has nothing to do with why I’m here,” said Owen, and Hazel flicked him a glance as she heard the ice
in his voice. “I’m fighting for my own reasons, and I’ll choose my own friends and allies. Let me tell you about Elias Gutman, Hazel. He has a hand in every crooked and corrupt business deal on half the planets in the Empire. No trade’s too dirty for him to take a cut, and the only laws he hasn’t broken are the ones he hasn’t got around to yet. He makes his money from the suffering of others, and he probably has as much blood on his hands as Lionstone herself.”

Gutman laughed richly. “You flatter me, dear boy, you do. I’m just a businessman with an eye for a profit. Your father never objected.”

“I’m not my father,” said Owen.

“I’m glad to hear it. The dear fellow was always too idealistic for his own good—bless me he was. He never could remember the first rule of business: never let a principle get in the way of profit. There’s always a good deal of money to be made in times of war, and I intend to have my fair share and more. Do try not to get caught underfoot, Owen; you might find that I and my kind are more of an asset to the rebellion than you are. Financial backing is hard to come by, but there’s never a shortage of people foolish enough to be heroes.”

He smiled, bowed, and walked away while Owen was still trying to come up with an answer that would crush him. Owen stood fuming for a moment, and then let out his breath in a long sigh. He’d never been any good at repartee. He only ever thought of the perfect answer hours later, when it was too late. But there was no point in getting angry this early in the proceedings. He had no doubt there’d be much more important things for him to get angry about once the council was brought to order, and the real wheeling and dealing began.

He muttered something to Hazel about recognizing someone, and set off through the crowd. He needed some time to himself for a moment. Familiar faces came and went around him as he passed through the chattering holo images, like the only living man at a feast of ghosts. People nodded and smiled at him, but he pretended not to notice. He wasn’t in the mood to play politics. And then an unexpected face caught his attention, and he paused for a moment to watch the man with the tattooed face talking to Giles. Apparently, Investigator Topaz wasn’t the only representative from Mistworld. Owen had met the man called Chance before, at
the Abraxus Information Center in Mistport, where young espers overhead everything and would tell you—for the right price. One of those espers claimed to have seen Owen’s future.

You will tumble an Empire, see the end of everything you ever believed in, and you’ll do it all for a love you’ll never know. And when it’s over, you’ll die alone, far from friends and succor.

Owen felt cold suddenly, as though someone had just walked over his grave. Would he live to see the end of the rebellion he was starting? Would running away from his destiny change anything? Owen shrugged uncomfortably. Honor and belief had brought him this far and would take him farther; he was a part of the rebellion now, whatever the cost. And Chance had admitted the espers’ predictions were wrong as often as they were right. But even if he’d had solid proof that he would die, Owen still wouldn’t change anything he’d done or had planned to do. He’d seen the rotten underside of the Empire and how the suffering of the many supported the opulence of the few; and having seen it, he couldn’t look away. He had become, something to his surprise, a man of honor. And who knew; maybe he was a hero, too. Either way, he’d see Lionstone brought down before he died. Whatever it took.