Deathstalker War (50 page)

“He is unavailable at the moment,” said the Steward. “Things are rather chaotic here, as I’m sure you can imagine. Tell me where you are, my lord, and I’ll send an armored flyer to fetch you, and bring you back safely.”

“Turn it off,” said Kit. “If he’s in charge, your people are dead. The Steward’s the one who sold you out in the first place.”

“I must insist on knowing where you are, my lord,” said the Steward. “You are in danger every minute you’re not under my protection.”

“Turn it off,” said Stevie One. “Before they trace the signal.”

David shut down the screen. He didn’t know what to say. It had never occurred to him that his own people might turn against him. Sure, he and the Steward had had words on more than one occasion, but to betray the Family that had fed and sheltered him from birth, that gave his life purpose and meaning . . . It had all happened so quickly. One minute he was the man who had everything, then suddenly he had nothing but a price on his head. Just like his cousin, Owen. Maybe the planet was jinxed. Laughter dangerously close to hysteria bubbled up inside him. He realized Alice was talking to him and tugging at his sleeve.

“My parents, David. I need to know about my parents.”

“Of course you do. You set the codes, I have to think. Kit, if the Steward’s got my emergency codes, my private security measures aren’t worth shit anymore. But that works both ways. If he’s got access to my codes, then I’ve got access to his.”

“What good does that do us?” said Kit.

“I should be able to patch into the Standing’s comm system, and through that into the Empire’s systems. We’ll be able to see what they’re seeing. I need to know what’s happening elsewhere on my world. I can’t believe Lionstone’s ordered a complete taking of Virimonde. The loss of life would be enormous. Appalling.”

“Since when has that ever stopped the Iron Bitch?” said Kit.

“Kit,” said David. “They said it’s all my fault. My people are going to die, because of what I did.”

“I’ve got the farm!” said Alice, and they all turned to look. The view on the screen was fuzzy, unfocused. Alice bent over the control panel, cursing under her breath as she tried to boost the signal. It finally snapped into focus, and Alice shrank back from the screen, one hand half-raised, as though to protect herself. She’d patched into one of the farm’s exterior sensors, showing the farmhouse from outside. The great stone building was under attack. The stonework was riddled with holes from energy guns, and part of the roof had been blown away. What remained of the thatched roof was burning fiercely. There were two bodies lying still in the courtyard, clutching projectile weapons in their dead hands. They’d both been hit by energy guns.

Alice shook her head slowly, as though to deny what she was seeing. “That’s Sam. And Matthew. My brothers. Where are the others? Where are my father and mother?”

David put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t feel it. The farmhouse’s front door flew open, and black smoke billowed out, thick and heavy. And out of the smoke, projectile weapons in hand, firing at an unseen enemy, came Adrian and Diana Daker. They kept up a steady fire as they ran for the stables behind the house. The camera was too far away to show their faces clearly, but their body language showed calm determination. They weren’t panicking.

Energy beams flashed around them, blowing holes in the farmhouse wall, but the Dakers were hard targets to hit. And then a company of Imperial marines appeared from behind the house, cutting the Dakers off from the stables. Adrian and Diana skidded to a halt, looking quickly about them, but there was nowhere they could go. The marines opened fire. Diana screamed and fell as one of her legs was shot out from under her, and then screamed again as an energy beam punched through Adrian’s stomach and out his back. He fell to the ground, still holding his gun. Diana tried to pull herself along the ground toward him. Adrian reached out a hand to her, and another beam blew his head apart. Two more blasts hit Diana, tearing her body in two. Her torso rolled away, leaving her legs shuddering on the ground. She looked across at her dead husband. Her mouth moved as she tried to say something, then the life went out of her, and she lay still.

Alice was making strangled mewling noises, her wide eyes fixed on her dead parents. Jenny took her by the shoulders and forcibly turned her away from the screen. All the strength went out of Alice, and she collapsed sobbing into Jenny’s arms. David gestured for Jenny to move Alice over to the bar and get her a stiff drink. Jenny nodded and gently persuaded her friend to move away out of range of the viewscreen. She murmured soothing words, but wasn’t at all sure her friend could hear her. At the viewscreen, David bent over the control panel, patching the screen into the signals going to the Standing. He jumped from one scene to another, trying to get some idea of what was happening to his world. And only then did he began to understand how widespread the horror was.

David and Kit watched silently as Imperial troops ran howling through an isolated village, shooting at everything that moved. Villagers came pouring out of their squat houses to face the invaders, but they had few guns, fighting mostly with swords and axes and farm implements. The troopers had battle armor and force shields and energy weapons, but still the men and women of the village threw themselves at the enemy, making them fight for every inch of ground. But the troops had the numbers as well as the weapons, and they cut a swift and bloody path through the village, leaving the main street strewn with the dead and the dying. Soon they were cutting down the villagers as fast as they showed themselves. The soldiers torched the buildings methodically, and shot down the elderly and the children as they ran out screaming. Soon the whole village was ablaze, thick black smoke rising up into the early-morning skies.

The scene changed to a nearby town. A small army of Imperial marines ran riot in the narrow cobbled streets, killing and burning, destroying all possible centers of resistance. Local officials were dragged out of their offices and into the street and hanged from the nearest lampposts. There was looting and raping and the butchery of innocents. Blood ran in the streets, and men and women and children ran in terror before the invading forces, driven from their homes by an enemy intent only on victory.

David and Kit recognized the tactics. They were designed to shock and intimidate other towns and villages into surrendering without a fight. Resistance meant only death and destruction. That was why the holosignal was getting out. The tactics worked. The viewscreen jumped from town to town, showing whole populations being herded away from their homes and out into the open fields, their hands on their heads. Interrogation would come later. Those who didn’t move fast enough were shot. Anyone who protested was shot. And everywhere there were buildings burning, and bodies hanging in the streets, and carrion birds circling in the skies above.

To the cities came the war machines. Unstoppable battle wagons smashed through boundary walls, bricks falling like water from their armored sides. Mechanical constructs, beyond fear or panic or restraint, charged unflinchingly into enemy fire, soaking up endless punishment while their racked energy guns blazed, cutting through men and buildings alike. Whole blocks went up in flames as huge gravity torpedoes plowed through wall after wall, building after building, progressing in unrelenting straight lines from one side of the city to the other. Combat androids, robots shaped in the mockery of men for psychological effect, stamped through the streets, cutting and hacking their way through human resistance. Flesh yielded to unfeeling steel, and blood ran down metal arms and dripped thickly from spiked knuckles. There were machines small as insects, unblinking eyes in the sky, and vast metal assemblages bigger than buildings, slow-moving towers of destruction. Brick and stone tore like paper, wood burned fiercely, and men and women died screaming under remorseless metal treads. The machines slaughtered all who came before them, showing neither quarter nor mercy because that was what they had been programmed to do. Buildings fell, fires raged, and in the smoke-choked streets, sharp metal hooks tore through yielding flesh, and barbed flails ripped meat away from bones. The robots marched, the city fell, and the war machines moved on to their next appointed target.

“No,” said David finally. “No. I won’t stand for this.”

“We’d better get out of here,” said Kit. “There’s no telling how close the nearest Imperial forces are.”

“I am the Lord of this planet, and I will not allow this.” David glared at the blazing hell on the viewscreen, his hands clenched into fists. “This isn’t war. This is inhuman. There’s no way Lionstone’s going to get away with this. This is my world and my people and I will not stand for this!”

“There’s nothing you can do,” said Kit. He shut down the viewscreen, and David turned his glare on him. Kit met his gaze calmly. “You’ve been outlawed, David. You no longer have any followers or power base, and even your own Standing may be compromised. You can’t fight, and surrender isn’t an option, so that just leaves flight.”

David shook his head stubbornly. “If I can get to the Standing, there’s still a chance I can contact the Company of Lords. Show them what’s happening here, what Lionstone’s doing to one of their own. If this could happen here, no Lord’s holdings would be safe anymore.”

“They won’t interfere,” said Kit. “No one objected to Owen’s outlawing, remember? While the Empress has the backing of the armed forces and the war machines, no Lord’s going to risk making a stand against her.”

“Then I’ll use the Standing’s comm station to broadcast what’s happening here on an open channel, so everyone in the Empire can see what’s being done in the Empress’s name.”

“Your Standing is most probably in the Steward’s hands now,” Kit said patiently.

“Then we’ll take it back from him,” said David.

Kit took David by the shoulders so he could stare into his friend’s eyes. “David, let it go. They’re just peasants. They’re nothing to do with us. Virimonde is a lost cause. It was the moment Lionstone decided to send in the troops and the war machines. We can’t fight this. All we can do is cut and run and hope to save our own skins.”

“I won’t abandon my people,” David said flatly.

“They’re just peasants!”

“What about Alice and me?” said Jenny, from the other side of the bar.

“What about you?” said Kit.

“You bastard,” said Jenny. “You’d just run off and abandon us, wouldn’t you?”

“No one’s abandoning anyone,” said David. “Our flyer’s still in the stable out back. It can carry four of us. There’s got to be some organized resistance, somewhere. You and Alice can connect us with the nearest rebel cells, and together we can take back the Standing. Stevie Blue!”

The two clones looked back from the doorway. “Yeah?”

“We are leaving; you want a lift?”

“I don’t think so,” said Stevie One. “Once you’re safely on your way, our responsibility to you is over. We’ll head for the nearest city still standing, organize resistance, and generally make trouble wherever it’ll do the most damage.”

“Right,” said Stevie Three, and held up a fist. Blue flames crackled menacingly around it.

“Then it’s time to go,” said David. He looked around him, as though seeing the tavern bar for the first time. “I should have listened to Owen. He tried to warm me. Damn, I wish I’d had a few more hours’ sleep. The shock’s driven the booze out of my head, but I feel like shit.” He stopped, and looked at Kit for a long moment. “Kit, you don’t have to come with us. You haven’t been outlawed, so presumably they don’t know about your rebel links, or don’t care. You could cut us loose and make off on your own . . .”

“No I couldn’t,” said Kit calmly. “You’re my friend. And if you’re determined to fight for a lost cause for no good reason that I can see, then I’ll fight it with you. I am Kid Death, the smiling killer, and I will not desert my friend in his hour of need.”

“You’re a good sort, Kit,” said David, smiling. “Weird as hell and spooky with it, but you’ll do.” He grinned suddenly. “What the hell; I was getting bored with peace and quiet anyway.”

“Damn right,” said Kit. “The holiday’s over, time to get back to work. We were never meant to be gentlemen of leisure.”

They turned to look at the two girls. Alice had stopped crying. Her mouth kept trying to tremble, but she was back in control.

“We’re sticking with you,” she said flatly. “This is our world, too. We have a right to defend it.”

“Of course you do,” said David. “And maybe on the way we’ll find time for some personal revenge. Now let’s go.”

They headed for the back door together, waving briefly to the Stevie Blues. Jenny glared at Kit. “You slow us down, SummerIsle, and we’ll dump you to fend for yourself. Got it?”

Kit smiled at her. “I always knew you were a woman after my own heart.”

In his private command center on the planet’s surface, inside a great slow-moving armored vehicle well away from the main fighting, Valentine Wolfe sat at his ease in a comfortable chair and watched death and destruction and bloody butchery on the many monitor screens around him, and was content. All Empire commands and machine instructions were routed through his systems, allowing him overall awareness of the invasion as well as individual control of his war units. He was contained inside a solid steel isolation tank, surrounded by control systems, lit by the glowing monitor screens. The ten-foot cube packed with tech would have been a claustrophobe’s nightmare, but it didn’t bother Valentine. Very little did, these days.

Various drugs were racing through his veins, fighting for control of his mind and body, but his will held them all in check. Before coming to Virimonde, he’d finally yielded to temptation and taken the esper drug, and his dark mind had blossomed like a poisoned flower. He now had direct control of his own autonomic systems, balancing one chemical with another, so that he lived on the highest curl of a continuous wave. And if the universe and its people seemed a little less than real, well, they always had, to him. It was only a matter of degree. He could think faster, see farther, and plan in more detail than ever before, even as his emotions thundered within him, great storms of feeling that crashed against the unyielding rocks of his self-control. Valentine Wolfe was out of his mind morning, noon, and night now, and he loved it. His brain chemistry was altered beyond recovery, and he couldn’t have been happier.