Deathstalker Honor (52 page)

And then they took it away from him. By winning.

He couldn’t be an adventurer anymore. His fighting days were over. The new order had no use for him even before his frailty became clear. His brand of get the job done and to hell with the consequences fighting was out of fashion. It was all diplomacy now, with carefully worked-out deals and compromises put together in private smoke-filled rooms. Usually with someone from Blue Block adding quiet advice from the sidelines. It was all politics now, and Julian didn’t understand any of it.

He had considered going back to Haceldama and spending his final days in Summerland, but he couldn’t do that. His death would have upset the toys too much.

Most of his friends were dead. It had been a hard war, and the rebellion had chewed up young men and women as fast as it could take them. Julian had learned the hard way not to get too attached to anyone. The only real friend he had was Finlay Campbell, and these days the old assassin was in almost as bad shape as he was. Finlay had been coming apart at the seams for some time now, and the more Julian tried to help, the more Finlay pushed him away.

The only other man Julian had really admired had been the legendary Young Jack Random. Julian never really got over finding out he’d been following a Fury, a Shub war machine in the shape of a man. He’d destroyed the Fury with his esp, but it hadn’t helped. It seemed like every time Julian ended up trusting someone, they always betrayed him in the end.

He’d killed the man who killed his brother, Auric, the Masked Gladiator himself, and that at least had been something he could be proud of. He could have killed the bastard a dozen times and never tired of it.

And yet for all his successes in the rebellion, he hadn’t been there at the end. Hadn’t made it down to the hell Lionstone had made of her Court, hadn’t got there in time to see the Iron Bitch dragged from her Throne and humbled before everyone. He’d seen the recording on the holo later, but it hadn’t been the same. He should have been there. He’d wanted her to see his face, to know he’d helped bring her down. He’d paid for that right in blood and suffering and the loss of friends.

So much bitterness in one short life. The more Julian thought about it, the more it seemed to him that there had only been two times in his life when he’d been really happy. The years he shared with his beloved older brother, Auric, and the months he spent with the woman they both loved, BB Chojiro.

Auric went away and left him. He challenged the Masked Gladiator to a duel in the Arena, hoping to impress Clan Chojiro enough that he’d be allowed to marry the lovely BB. He hadn’t expected to win the duel, but he thought if he put up a good enough show, the Arena crowds would turn up their thumbs for him. The crowds always like a plucky underdog. But the Masked Gladiator killed him anyway.

Julian had gone to comfort BB, and she cried in his arms, and he cried too. Not long after, they fell in love, and he was so happy for a time.

Out of all his life, the only piece of unfinished business he had left was BB Chojiro. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about her. Part of him wanted to kill her so badly he could taste it. To make her suffer as he’d suffered. In the openness of young love, he’d told her all about his role in the rebellion, and she handed him over to the torturers without a second thought, because she was Blue Block.

He thought about going to see her one last time. To put an end to their unfinished business one way or another. It wouldn’t be easy getting an audience with such a popular and busy person, but he was pretty sure he could do it. She was important these days, but he was a person of no small importance himself. His holoshow had put him in the public eye as one of the better-known rebel heroes. His audience loved him, or at least the version of him they saw on his show every week. He even had his own fan club. So many letters came in, and requests for photos, that he’d had to hire a secretary just to deal with them. He’d let her go a few weeks back. The demand for photos had gone down as his physical condition worsened and the letters trailed away.

But no one knew how ill he really was. He was still getting invitations to all kinds of social and political gatherings. A lot of Clans had found it in themselves to overlook how minor a House his Family was in their keenness to have him marry one of their unattached daughters. A rebel hero like Julian Skye would make an excellent spokesman for any Clan determined to be taken seriously in the new politics. Many had gone on a charm offensive, and all but pushed pretty faces at him every time he appeared in public. Julian had gone along with it. He did so love to dance, and it pleased his ego to be seen on all the news and gossip shows with a pretty girl always hanging on his arm. A small childish part of him hoped BB might be watching.

Clan Chojiro had never pursued him. BB had never believed in begging. She was probably still waiting for him to come to her.

Julian sat up straight in his chair and put in a call to Clan Chojiro. The viewscreen on the wall quickly cleared to show a severe, cold face that Julian recognized as the current head of Chojiro security. Presumably his name had been flagged. Julian gave the man his best intimidating smile, formally introduced himself, and asked to speak to BB. The security chief smiled back and said he’d see what he could do. His face disappeared from the screen, replaced by a soothing image of a brook running through a forest, accompanied by gentle tinkling music. Julian scowled. He hated being put on hold. The last time someone had left him waiting too long he’d taken all his clothes off and flashed them on their return. The Church wouldn’t make that mistake again. The screen cleared to reveal a familiar face.

Julian raised an eyebrow. “Cardinal Brendan. I didn’t think you were admitting you had any connection with Blue Block these days.”

“Officially I’m not, but you’re a special case. Good to see you again, Julian. You’re looking very well.”

“Maybe I should give you the address of my optician. Don’t flatter me, Cardinal. I know what I look like. Now, why am I talking to you and not BB?”

“I’m afraid she doesn’t want to talk to you just now, Julian. You must understand; you and BB parted under very unhappy circumstances, and she quite rightly has some fears that you might still wish her harm.”

“Now, why should she think that?” said Julian pleasantly. “Just because she betrayed me into the gentle hands of the Imperial tormentors?”

“It was a different time then,” said Brendan. “I’m sure we all did things then that we have come to regret now. The new order is a new beginning for all of us, a chance to put the past behind us and remake ourselves as we would wish to be.”

“Save the pretty speeches,” said Julian. “You were a slimy creep then and you’re a slimy creep now, and when you die they won’t have to bury you; they can just pour you down the nearest drain, so you can join all the other turds. BB gave you a message for me. Stop pretending to be someone important and pass it on.”

“As you wish,” said Cardinal Brendan, entirely unmoved. “BB has asked me to say that she still has warm feelings for you, but that if you ever wish to see her again, you will have to prove your feelings are genuine.”

“And just how do you suppose I do that? Bunch of flowers, nice box of chocolates, the dead body of an enemy? Try me, Cardinal. I’m in a generous mood.”

“You must prove your good intentions by presenting to her the bound and helpless figure of the Chojiros’ greatest enemy.”

“I always thought that was me, but women can be so fickle. Which poor bastard does she have in mind?”

“Finlay Campbell.”

Julian stared at the viewscreen for a long moment. “You want the Campbell?”

“Your friend, yes. Your staunchest ally in the rebellion. How better to show your devotion to BB?”

“If I ever find out this was your idea . . .”

“I’m just the messenger, Julian. But even a failed ham actor like yourself must know that nothing of true value ever comes without a price tag. How much is BB’s love worth to you? And it’s not as if the Campbell’s been much of a friend to you lately. How long before he turns on you, as he already has with so many old allies? He’s not a happy man. Help put him out of his misery, and ours. And prove your worth at the same time.”

“Betrayal,” said Julian Skye. “Is that all you Chojiros understand?”

“Such a harsh word. Say rather than Clan Chojiro admires a man strong enough to live by his own rules. And know who his true friends are. So, may I inform BB that she can expect a package soon?”

“I’ll think about it,” said Julian, and broke the connection.

 

Flynn entered Toby Shreck’s office at Imperial News Head-quarters and looked disparagingly about him as he pushed the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot. He was wearing standard work clothes, but hadn’t been able to resist just a touch of mascara and blusher. He sniffed loudly and fixed Toby with a withering gaze. “You’ve had the place redecorated
again,
I see. I still don’t like it. Really, Toby, all this high tech and polished surfaces really isn’t you. What this place needs is the feminine touch. Before the style police turn up and fire-bomb it on mental health grounds. What this office needs are pleasant pastel colors and big bunches of flowers everywhere. Flowers help to make a room.”

“Oh, good,” said Toby, sitting hunched over the papers on his desk. “I’m behind with my work, the unions are making trouble again, and now you’ve turned up to irritate me. And don’t you dare bring in any flowers. I’m no good with plants, Flynn. You know that. I only have to walk past a flower, and it dies of neglect just to spite me. I like my office fine just the way it is, thank you. Anyway, you’re hardly in a position to throw stones. If I let you loose in here, you’d cover the walls with holos of big-eyed children and rush around putting doilies under everything.”

“And what’s wrong with doilies?” said Flynn frostily. “A little delicate lace can do wonders to cheer a room up.”

“What are you doing here, Flynn?” said Toby patiently. “The day’s over. Work is done. Go home and annoy someone else.”

“I will if you will. It’s late, Toby. I thought you might like a lift.”

“Thanks for the thought, but I still have half a ton of paperwork to wade through. You wouldn’t believe what ends up on this desk. I swear there are people in this building who couldn’t take a dump after a vindaloo curry without the correct form signed by me. In triplicate. Ah, hell . . . would you like some tea, Flynn? It’s one of the few things they do right around here.”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

Toby hit the intercom switch. “Miss Lovett, a cup of tea for Mr. Flynn, please.”

Flynn raised a plucked eyebrow. “Since when are you so formal?”

Toby shrugged. “They expect it from the boss. I tried being relaxed and informal when I first moved in here, but it just made them uncomfortable. I suppose it’s hard to be easy and spontaneous with someone who can fire your ass just because he came in with a headache that morning.”

The door opened, and a young woman with hardly any dress on and a quite astounding amount of cleavage tottered in on impossibly high heels. She smiled widely at Flynn, displaying perfect teeth of dazzling brightness, and presented him with a steaming cup of tea.

“Thank you, dear,” said Flynn graciously. “Do you know, I just love your earrings. You must tell me where you found them.”

“You wear them to the office, Flynn, and you’re fired,” said Toby. “Thank you, Miss Lovett. That will be all for now.”

The young lady giggled for no apparent reason, heaved her cleavage in the direction of the door, and tottered out again. Flynn looked at Toby.

“She’s my secretary,” said Toby defensively. “She takes dictation.”

“Yeah,” said Flynn. “I’ll just bet she does. I would also bet good money that she has a room-temperature IQ and the personality of a piece of string.”

“All right, she’s a bimbo, I admit it. I have someone else to do the actual secretarial work. Miss Lovett is more in the nature of . . . an office ornament. Something I can use to distract the union bosses when they come in with their latest wage claim. Upper management gave her to me. They thought it might keep me in the office more. Truth be told, she gets on my nerves something fierce. She has a voice that could frighten sheep, no talents you can discuss in polite company, and a laugh that could strip wallpaper off walls. Took me two weeks to train her to make a cup of tea. I’d fire her, but it would break her heart.”

“Life is tough at the top,” said Flynn.

“It is!” said Toby. “All I want is to get some work done. Some real work. I can’t just sit around all day, Flynn, ticking the right boxes and signing where indicated. It’s not in my nature. I need to be doing something. Something that matters. I always thought that with this job’s authority I’d finally be able to cover the kind of important stories I’d always wanted to go after. But it never works out that way. I may be the boss here, but I still have to answer to my bosses, the people who own Imperial News. And they’d be just as happy running a gossip show, as long as it didn’t affect profits. Every time I suggest a good target to go after, the word comes down from above: don’t make waves.

“They were happy enough to take risks when they were only a minor company, desperate to do anything to grab viewing figures away from the big boys, but now they are one of the big boys, they’ve gone all nervous on me. They have something to lose these days. You know, Flynn . . . I should be happy. I’ve made it! I’ve got the job I always wanted! I run Imperial News! They don’t even challenge my expenses anymore. But I am bored, Flynn. Terribly, mind-numbingly
bored
.”

“You know the answer, chief. Do what you did the last time we had this conversation. Pick a story and cover it yourself. Get out in the field and see how close to the wind you can sail this time. I’m always available to be your cameraman. For the standard rates. Plus danger money.”