Deathstalker (66 page)

“Will you stop grabbing me and pulling me around?” she said coldly. “I am quite capable of remembering to duck on my own, thank you.”

Her voice sounded harsh but far away, as though they were both underwater. Finlay felt a grin lugging at the corners of his mouth, but controlled himself. He didn’t think Evangeline was in the mood to see the funny side.

“Where did the grenade come from?” he said, finally.

“Daddy always made sure that the female members of the Family went around fully armed, after the Iron Bitch took my cousin to be a maid. I thought a gun was a bit obvious, and too easily guarded against, so I decided on a grenade. Not terribly subtle, but I suppose it shows I am my father’s daughter, after all.”

Finlay decided he wasn’t going to pursue that point any further just at the moment, and moved among the slowly rousing espers, checking they were all right. They’d all been blown off their feet by the blast, but no one was actually dead. Several had nosebleeds or headaches, and they’d all been cut or pierced here and there by ricocheting shrapnel, but they were taking it well. Finlay took a deep breath and moved slowly down the corridor to get a better look at what was left of the battle espers. He stopped quite a ways short rather than step in the blood and gore. A few of the mangled bodies were recognizable. Most weren’t. He heard footsteps behind him and looked back, expecting Evangeline, but it was Stevie Two. He recognized the different colored ribbons in her hair. She looked at the carnage unflinchingly.

“There, but for the grace of God, go I. My sisters and I were created specifically to be the new generation of battle espers. We got away, but we had to leave a lot of friends behind. I wonder, if I looked hard enough through this mess, would I find familiar faces?”

“Best not to look,” said Finlay. “Best not to know.”

She nodded, turned away and walked back to her sisters. Finlay followed her back and rejoined Pindar and Evangeline.

“All right,” he said brusquely. “Which way now? You can bet reinforcements are on the way, and I don’t think we’re up to facing down large numbers of battle espers again.”

“The plan hasn’t changed,” said Evangeline. “Find Wormboy, kill him, free the prisoners.”

“Just us?” said Finlay.

“Who else is there?”

“What about Jenny Psycho?” said Pindar.

Evangeline frowned. “What about her? We’ll free her when we free the others.”

“I think we need her,” said Pindar. “The underground arranged for her to be brought here for a reason. She’s powerful. More powerful than even she knew. She was supposed to be the key to killing Wormboy.”

“We don’t have time for this, and we don’t have time for her,” said Evangeline. “Jenny Psycho will have to wait. It’s a straight run to Wormboy now. We’ve got to get to him before the Empire can set up extra protection.”

“I think we can safely assume that happened the moment we breached Silo Nine’s defenses,” said Finlay. “And someone or something like Wormboy isn’t going to be easy to kill. I think we should take all the help we can get.”

“That’s not why you want to free her,” said Evangeline coldly. “She’s the one you saw in your vision. You swore your oath because of her. You see yourself as the hero, rushing in to sweep her away to safety. You can’t afford to let this get personal, Finlay. They’re all Jenny Psychos in here. They’re all equally deserving. And the best way to save them is to kill the beast that holds them captive.”

Finlay frowned, thinking, and then turned to Pindar. “Can you contact her, mind to mind? Is she still open to us?”

“I don’t see why not,” said the telepath. “In fact, at this range I should be able to manage full contact.”

He stared blankly ahead, reaching out with his mind, and
his face brightened as he made contact. “Jenny, this is the underground. We’re here to rescue you.”

And then Jenny Psycho came fully awake for the first time, and everything changed again. Her mind ignited like a flare, bright and blinding, almost too painful to look at. The espers in the corridor clapped their hands uselessly to their ears as her voice shook like thunder in their minds. Even Finlay and Evangeline could hear her as though she was right there in the corridor with them.

I remember, I remember who and what I am. Go to Wormboy. Destroy him. I will free the prisoners
.

The godlike voice was suddenly gone from their heads, and the espers slowly lowered their hands from their ears, looking at each other in shock. Telepathically deafened for the moment, they babbled at each other aloud. Finlay tried to make sense of it, but all he could make out was a name, repeated over and over.
Mater Mundi. Mother of the World
. Once again, Finlay turned to Pindar and Evangeline.

“All right, what the hell was that? This is something else you haven’t got around to telling me about, isn’t it? Who is she? Somebody talk to me!”

“Our Mother of All Souls,” said Pindar, just a bit breathlessly. “The most powerful telepath ever created. She founded the underground. No wonder no one was allowed to know who Jenny Psycho really was, not even her. If the Iron Bitch knew she was here, she’d nuke the whole city, just on the chance of getting her. If the Mother wants us to go after Wormboy, we are going after Wormboy. You don’t argue with God when she speaks to you directly. Not unless you want to be turned into a burning bush.”

“You think she’s God?” said Finlay.

“Nearest local equivalent,” said Evangeline. “My head feels like it’s been scoured out with steel wool. She’s not just a telepath, Finlay, more like a force of nature. Let’s go find Wormboy. Which turning do we take?”

“Left,” said Stevie Three.

It didn’t take them long to get there, with the map burning in their brains like a grail. The corridors were eerily empty. There was no trace of the other battle espers anywhere, nor of any of the armed guards. The only sound in Silo Nine was their own boots thudding on the metal floors. Finlay didn’t like the silence at all, and gripped his sword and his gun so
tightly his hands ached. If all the other espers were being set free, the place ought to be full of the sound of it.

The floor they were moving along seemed to be mainly bureaucratic: rows upon rows of abandoned offices. The cells were much lower. The surveillance cameras still moved to follow them as they passed. Finlay had stopped the Stevie Blues blowing them up with their fire. He had a strong feeling they were going to need all the strength they could find once they reached Wormboy’s lair. The cameras still annoyed him, though. What the hell had happened to the cyberats? They were supposed to be running interference and playing hell with the security systems. They shouldn’t have been affected by any of the ambushes.

“Try and contact the cyberats again,” he said to Evangeline.

“I’ve tried and tried, Finlay. There’s no response.”

“Well, try again.”

Evangeline glared at him, but didn’t have the strength to be really annoyed. “What did your last slave die of, Campbell?”

“Not making contact when I asked him. Get on with it.”

She sighed and tuned her comm implant again to the cyberat’s special channel. “Evangeline to the rats. Talk to me, people. What’s happening?”

The voice was suddenly babbling in all their cars, almost incoherent in its haste.

“It’s a trap! It’s a trap! They were waiting for us in the systems, Empire AIs, huge and powerful, blazing like suns. We went blind, staring into the light. We can’t find most of our people. Some are dead. We can’t help you anymore. We can’t help ourselves. You’re on your own.”

Thanks a whole bunch
, thought Finlay as the voice fell silent. He looked at Evangeline. “That bastard Hood didn’t just betray us, he set up a really thorough trap as well. I think we have to assume that the other esper groups are either dead or taken prisoner. We’re all there is.”

“No,” said Evangeline. “The Mater Mundi is with us. She’s all we need. You have to have faith, Finlay.”

Finlay remained diplomatically silent and followed the Stevie Blues as they threaded their way through the interconnecting corridors of Silo Nine. There was still no sign of any guards, and the corridors had the quiet stillness of a jungle with its predators hidden just out of sight, waiting to
pounce. They filed quickly down a narrow corridor set with featureless steel doors. Something about the doors made Finlay feel uneasy. They had the solid impenetrable look of doors that didn’t open easily or too often. He looked at Evangeline.

“Any idea what’s behind those doors?”

“Oh, yes,” said Evangeline quietly. “This is where they keep the monsters: the espers and clones experimented on by Silo Nine’s scientists. They’re not human anymore, in shape or in mind. We can’t rescue them. What’s been done to them cannot be undone.”

“All the same, we can’t just leave them here to rot in their cells. Why can’t we just blow open the doors, from a safe distance, and let them run loose? At least they’d have a chance to get away, and if nothing else they should keep the authorities busy.”

“No. They still have worms in their heads. As long as Wormboy lives, they belong to him, body and soul. It always comes back to him, Finlay. He’s the dark, rotten heart of Silo Nine. It’s his dreams that breed monsters. Now come along and keep your voice down. You might wake them.”

And so on they went, along corridors and down stairways, sinking deeper and deeper into Wormboy Hell. Until finally they came to a huge, featureless wall, and there was nowhere else to go. Finlay studied the map in his head, but it was definitely a dead end. Beyond the wall there was just a great empty space. And then he studied the map more carefully and frowned. For an empty hall, there were a hell of a lot of pipes and conduits and energy cables going in and out. And so he realized what he’d really known all along, but hadn’t wanted to admit. They’d finally come to Wormboy’s lair.

“All that space just for him?” he said finally. “How big is he?”

“The word is they’re going to have to build him a new home,” said Evangeline. “He’s getting too big for this one.”

Finlay decided he wasn’t going to think about that for the moment. “All right, how do we get to him? What kind of defenses has he got?”

“He doesn’t need any defenses,” said Pindar. “He’s Wormboy. There are no guards, no high-tech security systems. Just him. And that’s enough. He’s the strongest esper the Empire labs ever produced, a mind so advanced as to be
beyond our comprehension. Vast, unknowable, and inhumanly powerful. And possibly quite insane.”

Finlay glared at him. “You’re just full of good news, aren’t you? He can’t really be that powerful. Can he?”

“No one knows,” said Evangeline. “No one’s ever got this close to him before. And even allowing for Imperial hyperbole, he’s got to be pretty damned amazing to run a prison the size of Silo Nine. He has continuous mental contact with thousands of minds through his worms, and he knows what all of them are thinking at any given moment. Just another reason why no one has ever escaped from Wormboy Hell.”

“This gets better all the time,” said Finlay. He hefted the gun and sword in his hands, but the familiar weights had lost all power to comfort him. He glared at the long featureless steel wall before him, and it stared back, giving nothing away. “Anything will die if you hit it hard enough and long enough. How do we get to him? Is there a door somewhere?”

“No doors,” said Evangeline. “No windows. Wormboy isn’t going anywhere. They built the hall around him and then sealed it shut. We’ll have to break in.”

“Great. Got any more grenades up your sleeve?”

“You don’t need a grenade,” said Stevie One. “You’ve got us.”

“Never met a wall that could keep us out,” said Stevie Two.

“Right,” said Stevie Three.

They moved forward to stand before the great steel wall and stared at it thoughtfully. The temperature in the corridor rose sharply, and Finlay and the others backed away to a safe distance. The wall before the three espers glowed a cheerful cherry red and began to steam. It got hotter and hotter in the corridor, and slender rivulets of melting metal ran down the wall. The heat before the Stevie Blues had to be unbearable, but they stood their ground. They held each other’s hands as sweat ran down their faces, and more molten metal ran down the wall. Finally the metal collapsed inward like sticky toffee, and a hole appeared. A terrible stench entered the corridor, of rotting flesh and waste products. The Stevie Blues pulled the same disgusted face and scowled even harder. The hole grew bigger, the metal running away like water, and everyone got their first glimpse of Wormboy.

Finlay edged forward, one arm raised to protect his face
from the heat, and stared in sick fascination at the endless stretch of luminous flesh, pierced here and there by pipes as thick as a normal man’s arm. The wounds had healed around the pipes in rucks of crumpled flesh, encrusted by trickles of escaped waste. By peering up through the widening hole, now the size of a door, Finlay could just make out one side of a vast, inhuman face. The skin was stretched inhumanly taut, so that normal expressions were impossible, but even as Finlay watched, a slow smile spread across the lower face. The lips were almost black from the pressure of engorged blood, and the huge teeth were a dirty gray. The eyes were hidden in shadow, but Finlay had no doubt that Wormboy could see them.

The Stevie Blues howled suddenly with pain and staggered back from the hole they’d made, gripping at their heads with both hands. It hit Finlay and the others a moment later, and he cried out as the flesh rotted on his bones. The pain was horrendous, swamping his thoughts. His skin grew discolored and cracked apart, revealing maggots writhing in the decaying muscles. Pus and rotting tissue fell from his arms and legs. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this wasn’t real, but his body believed it. Wormboy was playing his mindgames again.

Finlay squeezed his rotting hands around his sword and gun, though he could no longer feel them. How could Wormboy be doing this? There was no worm in his head, no access for the beast.
He doesn’t need one
, Pindar’s voice whispered in his ear.
He’s drawing on the collective power of all the espers he controls. Our power is nothing compared to his now. Some of the prisoners are trying to hold back, they know why we’re here, but he’s too strong, too strong. You’re our only chance, Finlay. It’s harder for him to reach you, because you’re not an esper. Kill him. Kill the beast. Before our bodies really believe what they’re being told and rot for real. He’s winning, Finlay. He’s killing us
.