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Authors: Simon R. Green

Deathstalker Honor (48 page)

BOOK: Deathstalker Honor
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“Good example,” said Silence. “My duty is to the Empire, and Humanity. To protect them from any and all dangers. Look, the Maze people aren’t answerable to anyone but themselves. There’s no one strong enough to say no if they say yes. And they’re getting stronger all the time. What if one or more of them decided that Parliament’s decisions were taking the Empire in a direction they didn’t approve of? What if they were to decide that mere humans couldn’t be trusted with their own destiny, and they decided to take over and rule us, for our own good, of course. Who could stop them?”
“Or just possibly you could be turning paranoid,” said Diana. “There are only four of them.”
“How many gods does it take to rule Humanity?” said Silence. “And just because I’m paranoid, it doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get me. You of all people should appreciate that.”
“Good point,” said Diana, smiling for the first time. She got to her feet and nodded briefly to her father and Carrion. “It’s time I was going. I don’t think I’m going to learn any more here. I’ll talk to you again when you get back. Don’t bother to see me out.”
And just like that she vanished. One moment there, the next gone. Silence and Carrion looked at each other.
“Well,” said Carrion finally. “She’s definitely your daughter, Captain.”
“And she always did know how to make an exit,” said Silence. He shook his head. “Time is running out, and I still haven’t finished briefing you. What was I going to . . . ah, yes. The insect ships. Have you finished the files I let you have?”
“Of course,” said Carrion. “Fascinating material. You do know the insects have to be artificial, don’t you?”
“That’s what Frost said. She said they had to have been gengineered, because insects don’t get that big naturally. Which implies there’s another player in the game that we don’t know about yet, the insects’ creator.”
“Do we really need to assume it’s an unknown?” said Carrion. “Surely there are enough suspects already—the Hadenmen, Shub, even rogue human scientists funded by Families desperate for power? And then, there’s always the Recreated. Whatever they turn out to be.”
“I said as much to Admiral Beckett,” said Silence slowly. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised to discover the insects come out of the Darkvoid. Their attacks have always been concentrated on the Rim, and where else could they be disappearing to afterward ? And then . . . there’s the voices.” Silence looked steadily at Carrion. “The files I gave you on that are strictly restricted. You are not to discuss their contents with anyone else without my express permission in advance. My crew are spooked enough about going back into the Darkvoid as it is. So . . . what do you make of the voices? Any ideas?”
“It could be an esper phenomenon,” said Carrion. “Or it could be the voices of the dead. But the most likely explanation has to be a psychological trick by Shub to soften you up for the coming of the
Champion
. A long-lost ship, crewed by dead men, its reappearance heralded by the warning voices of ghosts—just the kind of thing the rogue AIs would come up with to mess with your heads.”
“Of course, that’s the most likely explanation,” said Silence. “But you didn’t hear those voices, Sean. They wouldn’t stay recorded. They just faded away. What you listened to in the files were simulations, based on what we remembered. The real thing sounded . . . horrible. Unnerving. They really did seem to be trying to warn us away from danger. Not just from the
Champion,
but from the Darkvoid itself. And now here we are, going back into the dark again.”
“Could it be some kind of warning by the Recreated?” said Carrion. “To stay out of their territory?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I suppose as always we’ll just have to find out the hard way. And it has to be us. This ship and its crew have more experience of the Darkvoid than any other three ships put together. And we are, after all, quite expendable.”
“Nothing changes,” said Carrion, and they both managed some kind of smile.
“So,” said Silence. “How does it feel to be an Investigator again?”
“I wear the title only as a courtesy. But I won’t wear the official uniform. I’m not worthy of it anymore. Or it’s not worthy of me. I haven’t decided yet.”
“You got a full Pardon. You’re no longer a wanted man,” said Silence. “Wouldn’t you like to go home again, Sean?”
“I had a home,” said Carrion. “I was happy there. And then you and Shub destroyed it.”
 
Evangeline Shreck came home at last to Tower Shreck and stood for a long time in its cold, dark shadow, trying to stop trembling. From the outside it looked like just another building, steel and glass and the Family colors that marked it as one of the legendary pastel towers, home to the Clans. To Evangeline it was the witch’s cave, the demon’s lair, the dark place that calls to us in our worst nightmares. In its terrible embrace she had lived an awful life of pain and horror and torment, until at last a dashing prince came, and loved her, and gave her the courage to break free of the ogre who held her enchained.
And now she’d come back, though she’d sworn she never would. Back home again to save her very best friend from the hell she’d known so well.
Her love didn’t know she was here. She’d let Finlay Campbell believe she was off on another mission for the clone underground. If he’d known she was going back to Tower Shreck, he’d have tried to stop her or talk her out of it, and she couldn’t have that. This was something she had to do for herself. However much it hurt. She was here to see the monster, her father, Gregor Shreck. He thought he held all the cards, owned all the advantages, but she had a few surprises of her own, just for him. Just for dear Daddy.
The man who had murdered his only daughter, Evangeline, and afterward had her cloned in secret to produce the present Evangeline. The man who loved both the original and her clone as a man rather than a father. Who abused his position and his daughter’s love. Who took his Evangelines to his bed and taught them far more about pain than pleasure. The devil in his hell. Gregor Shreck.
Hatred pulsed in her like a heartbeat, surging through her like blood, forcing out the fear. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and then walked calmly toward the armored guards covering the main entrance to Tower Shreck. They looked more like beetles than men in their extensive black body armor, faces hidden behind stylized sensor masks. There were six of them, but they didn’t scare her. She wasn’t frightened of them. She stopped a cautious distance away and stared at them haughtily.
“I’m Evangeline Shreck, here to see my father, Gregor. Inform him I’m here.”
The guards looked at her for a moment and then looked at each other. She presumed they were holding a brief but intense conversation through their comm implants before daring to disturb their master, the Shreck. It wasn’t long before they stood back and gestured for her to enter the Tower through the main entrance. She strode forward, head held high, and the single heavy door opened silently before her. The lobby had been redecorated since she last saw it. All comforts and attractive details had been stripped away, leaving only a large, bare chamber with a concrete floor and blank steel walls. She heard footsteps behind her and made herself turn slowly to face the single armored guard who’d come into the lobby after her. The door closed behind him. He spoke to her without removing his mask, his voice filtered to remove all traces of humanity from it.
“The Lord Shreck is awaiting you in his private quarters, lady Evangeline. I’m to escort you there. After a full security search.”
“Lord Shreck?” said Evangeline, raising an eyebrow. “There are no Lords anymore. Doesn’t he know that?”
“The Shreck . . . goes his own way in all things. Remove your clothes. All of them. Place to one side any weapons or devices you may be carrying.”
Evangeline nodded stiffly. She’d been expecting that. Gregor thought everyone wanted to kill him these days. Mostly he was right. She took her clothes off with as little fuss as possible, concentrating on why she was there. It helped that the guard looked so inhuman and anonymous in his armor and mask. She wondered if Gregor was watching through the sensors in the mask. Probably. Finally she was naked, her clothes in a neat pile to one side. She fixed the insect mask with a steady glare.
“That’s it. No clothes. No weapons. But if you touch me with so much as a fingertip, I’ll tell Daddy. Do you really want him to know you touched something he believes belongs only to him?”
The guard hesitated, and then nodded jerkily and indicated for her to get dressed again. She did so, not letting the guard or her nerves hurry her. When she was ready again, the guard led the way to the single elevator at the back of the lobby, and they both got in. The guard gave the order for the penthouse floor in his inhuman voice, and the doors closed silently. The guard stepped back a pace so he could cover Evangeline with his gun. She ignored him, staring at the glowing numbers set over the door as they slowly changed. So far everything was going as planned. For all his paranoia, Gregor still couldn’t see her as a serious threat. She was his little Evie, his plaything.
Old memories ran through her like an icy river. She had been born here, fully grown, a clone of a woman the outside world could never know was dead. She was taught to be a perfect copy of the original Evangeline so that she might hide from Society the dreadful thing that Gregor had done. And so that he could continue to have his pleasures in the way he’d grown accustomed.
It was the only life she’d ever known until she came to know Finlay. They met at Court, at a masked ball, and it was love at first sight. They talked and laughed, eyes sparkling through their masks, each warming to another’s heart for the first time in their lives. And then the masks came off at midnight, and they discovered they were a Shreck and a Campbell, two Families at war with each other for generations. And each of them was the heir. Their love would have been a scandal, unacceptable, and Evangeline knew that Gregor would rather kill her than lose her. Still worse, he might kill Finlay. So they kept their love secret, snatching moments together when they could, until finally they could be together at last.
She never told Finlay about Gregor. She knew Finlay couldn’t have coped with it. With knowing how she’d suffered. He would have stormed off in a bloody rage to kill Gregor, and to hell with the consequences. Gregor’s people might have killed him, or he might have been hanged afterward. Either way, she couldn’t risk it. And besides, he might have felt . . . differently about her. So she had never told him.
The elevator chimed politely as they reached the top floor. It was like hell in reverse. You had to go all the way up to reach the darkest, foulest part of the Pit. The doors slid open, and the guard escorted her down the bare steel corridor. Their footsteps were loud and carrying on the metal floor. Gregor wanted to know when anyone was coming. Other guards stood to attention the length of the corridor, guns at the ready. Not beetles anymore, Evangeline decided; demons, in the hall of hell. She made herself look straight ahead, and wouldn’t let her mouth tremble. And eventually she and her escort came to a halt before the extra-thick steel door that was the only entrance to her father’s private quarters. It was a very special door, designed to withstand a bomb or a disrupter blast with equal ease. Evangeline stood stiffly before it as the guard announced their presence.
“Come in,” said Gregor’s soft, oily voice, through a hidden speaker that made his words seem to come from everywhere at once. “Come in, little Evie, and join your forgiving father. Guard six, take up a position outside the door. We are not to be disturbed for any reason.”
The door swung slowly open, and Evangeline held herself tightly together as she walked unhurriedly into the ogre’s lair. It was important not to walk so slowly that she might appear scared or reluctant, or so quickly that it might seem she was jumping to obey an order. Appearances were everything now. They were all she had to work with. The door closed behind her as she stopped and looked around her.
Gregor Shreck had made changes in his private quarters since she was there last. The windowless walls of the great chamber were a dark crimson, the color of drying blood, a great scarlet womb, with concealed bloody lighting and dark shadows everywhere. The thick pile carpet beneath her feet was the color of sunburned skin, deep enough to muffle any sound. To every side stood grisly trophies from Gregor’s most recent victims. A pile of severed hands on a silver tray, heaped carelessly on top of each other. A row of preserved severed heads on stakes, all looking faintly surprised, their mouths hanging open as though in shock at what had been done to them. None of them had eyes. A low cupboard displayed a row of severed feet. Someone had wrapped them in pretty ribbons and painted their toenails black. Evangeline could hear air-conditioning units working overtime as they struggled to deal with the pervasive smell of death and preservatives.
And there, reclining at his ease on a wide bed shaped from gigantic rose petals, the dark heart of that dark kingdom—Gregor Shreck. He’d always been short and fat, a greasy, perspiring butterball of a man, but he’d put on a lot of weight during their separation. He was huge now, bulging with flesh, his face almost perfectly round, crushing his features into the center of his face. He dressed all in black slashed with scarlet streaks, and looked like nothing so much as a gigantic, gorged leech.
“So,” said Gregor in an unnervingly normal-sounding voice. “You’ve come home at last. I always knew you would. My dear, loving daughter.”
“I’m here because you abducted my friend Penny DeCarlo, and threatened to kill her if I didn’t come,” said Evangeline tonelessly. “And that’s the only reason I’m here. Where is she? What have you done with her?”
“So impatient,” said Gregor happily. “No one has time for the civilized little courtesies anymore. Don’t you have a kiss for your dear daddy?”
BOOK: Deathstalker Honor
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