Deathstalker Rebellion by Simon R. Green
"I'm not convinced," said David stubbornly. "If we have to accept Hadenmen, then we'll have no choice but to accept espers and clones. This is supposed to be a human Empire. What's the point in overthrowing Lionstone if it means letting the genetic dregs and freaks have a say in our councils?"
"We want more than just a say," said Stevie One sharply. "We demand full citizenship for clones and espers as the price for our support. Otherwise we'll go our own way, fight our own rebellion, and our war will go on until either you or we are extinct."
"Right," said Stevie Three. She held up a clenched fist, around which blue flames crackled menacingly.
"Put that out, or I'll turn on the sprinklers," said Random calmly. Stevie Three hesitated and then the flames went out, and she lowered her hand. "Honestly," said Random. "You can't take her anywhere. Let's not get distracted, people. If we allow old fears and hatreds to divide us, we're beaten before we begin. What we have in common is more important than what separates us. It is in all our interests to remove Lionstone from the Iron Throne. We can decide exactly what we're going to replace her with afterward. That very discussion will be the beginning of our new democracy."
Spontaneous applause broke out in several parts of the crowd, but there were just as many who didn't join in. They were all willing to listen, but as yet they weren't convinced or of one mind on anything.
"I'm still worried about the aliens," said Evangeline Shreck. "They're not just rumors anymore. One ship on its own shot the hell out of Golgotha's main starport. And that's just one unknown species. There are supposed to be two. What if they joined together against humanity? It could be that the aliens are a bigger threat to us than Lionstone could ever be."
"Then, we'd better get the rebellion over with before they get here," said Giles. "With the Empire divided as it is now, it couldn't hope to withstand a concerted attack by two alien species of unknown strength and origin. It is necessary that we all become united in a common cause. And since Lionstone would never agree to that, it is vital she be removed from the Iron Throne while there is still time."
"Everyone knows your legend," said Finlay Campbell, studying Giles thoughtfully. "They teach it in the schools, and practically every other year there's a new holoscreen drama based on some part of your adventurous life. You were the first Warrior Prime, nine hundred years ago. You embodied all that was best in the old Empire. So how can we be sure your heart is with us, and not, deep down, with the Iron Throne and the Empire you risked your life for so many times all those years ago?"
"The Empire I remember and believed in is long gone," said Giles Deathstalker. "And despite what your holoscreens may have told you, the rot was setting in even then. I tried to stop it, but I was only one man, even if I was the Warrior Prime. In the end all I could do was run for my life. I look at what the Empire has become now, and I barely recognize it. Lionstone's Empire is a travesty of what it was meant to be. The dream has become a nightmare. And we're the wake-up call. It's not too late. We can change things if we work together."
"Stirring words," said Finlay Campbell. "But exactly what kind of changes are we talking about here? There's no point in risking all our lives to overthrow Lionstone, just to replace her with someone equally bad. The whole system is corrupt. I say we throw it all out and start over. I've seen things… that can't be allowed to go on. I speak for the Golgotha underground, and we demand universal suffrage, a Parliament that represents all the people, including clones and espers, and a strictly constitutional monarch. And a free pardon for all political prisoners."
"Right," said Stevie Three. "Tear down Silo Nine and put an end to all experiments on clones and espers."
"And break the power of the Families," said Jack Random. "Between them, the Clans control all the means of production. The new Government must disband the Clans, and seize control of their assets. Bring them all down, and let them work for a living like the rest of us."
"Hold everything," said Owen hotly. "I am still loyal to the Iron Throne, even if the current occupant isn't fit to rule. What we need to do is put someone saner and more responsible on the Throne. Then we can work with that person to introduce sensible democratic reforms, as needed. Just because bad people are in charge at the moment doesn't mean it's a bad system."
"Yes it does," said Hazel. "It's the system that produces bad people. Jack's right, tear it all down. Give everyone a chance."
Owen glared at her. "You just want chaos. How can things be run efficiently if no one knows their place?"
"You just want your old life back," snapped Hazel. "You want to be back in your ivory tower, safe and cosseted and protected from reality by a small army of servants, ready to satisfy your every whim when you snap your fingers. To hell with that, aristo. If this rebellion's about anything, it's about giving everyone a chance at the good life."
"And equal rights for clones and espers," said Stevie One.
"New market possibilities," said Gregor Shreck.
"And a chance for some good looting and pillaging," said Ruby Journey.
"Let's not get distracted again," Random said firmly. "First we get Lionstone off the Throne, then we can argue about what we're going to replace her with. There's room in the rebellion for many voices. For now, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, or at least my ally. The overall purpose of this rebellion is to create a unified Empire that can turn its resources against the coming aliens, instead of pissing them away fighting each other. We can set about political debate once we've ensured there will be a future to discuss it in. Now, let's move on, please. We still have to settle the question of financial backing for the rebellion. Armed conflicts cost money. Lots of it. Our raid on the Golgotha Tax Headquarters has netted us billions of credits, carefully laundered and scattered through thousands of secret accounts, but all that will do is get us started. We have to build rebel Bases and equip them with ships, computers, and weapons. Undergrounds have to be established and maintained. Soldiers must be trained, agents infiltrated, and politicians bribed to look the other way. Never underestimate the importance of carefully placed bribes. All of this needs a steady flow of incoming funds, maintained over a long period. Which is why some of you were invited here today. Please make yourselves known, gentlemen."
"About time you got around to us," said Gregor Shreck, a satisfied smile on his broad face. "Political rhetoric is all very well, but it won't buy you guns. It's people like me who'll decide whether this rebellion gets off the ground. I am ready to offer the full, if covert, support of my Clan, in return for future concessions."
"What kind of future concessions?" said Owen suspiciously.
The Shreck spread his fat hands. "That's what we're here to discuss."
"I thought you and your people were in bed with the established Church these days?" said Finlay Campbell.
"I am," said Gregor. "Officially. But they're not proving the ally I'd hoped for. They're far too fond of giving orders, and their restrictions on my private life are becoming offensively impertinent. I hope for greater rewards from the rebellion. And I am, after all, following in my dear daughter's footsteps. How is life in the underground, Evie dear? You never write."
"Very pleasant, Father," said Evangeline evenly. "I'm much happier now there's so much less pressure in my life."
"But you'd be so much happier if you were to come home again," said Gregor. "Back with your dear father's love. Your friends miss you, too. Remember dear little Penny? The two of you were so close before she ended up in Silo Nine. Unfortunately, she wasn't as careful at keeping secrets as you were. You tried to rescue her and failed. But I got her out. I have connections, you see, people who can get me what I want. Now Penny lives with me and loves me as you used to. Come home, Evie. Without your support, I don't know how much longer I can protect Penny. You wouldn't want anything to happen to her, would you?"
"Leave her alone!" said Finlay, stepping forward to put himself between Evangeline and her father. "I know what you're trying to do. You want to f
"Can it?" said Gregor. "I think you'll find your superiors in the underground will feel rather differently about it. What's one person against a Clan's fortune? And I will have my Evie back. If that turns out to be over your dead body, Campbell, so much the better."
"You're a dead man, Shreck!" said Finlay, his voice flat and harsh.
"Put your dog on a leash, Evie," Gregor said calmly. "Or I'll have him muzzled. Remember, the rebellion needs me."
"I would have to agree," said Jack Random. "We're gathered here to discuss the future of humanity, not your personal problems. Sort that out on your own time. But Finlay, the Cause comes first. Always. Remember that."
"Don't lecture me," said Finlay. "I have sworn a death oath to bring Lionstone down, sworn upon my name and my honor. I'll fight and if need be die for the Cause. But sooner or later there will come a time when the rebellion no longer needs the Shreck's support. And then I'll kill him."
"You'll always need me," said Gregor. "Weren't you listening? Overthrowing Lionstone is just the first step. The real struggle for power and influence will take place after that. There's always a need for people like me. And who knows; just maybe the price of my future support will be Evie's return, and your head on a spike."
"In your dreams, little man," said Finlay. "We're fighting this rebellion to get rid of people like you. Right, Random?"
"Shut the hell up, both of you!" Random glared from Finlay to Gregor and back again. "Play dominance games on your own time. The longer this meeting continues, the more likely it is the Empire will discover us. Now, does anyone else want to speak in support of the Cause?"
"I offer the support of Clan Deathstalker," said David, smiling coldly at Owen. "I am the Lord of Virimonde, and its resources can be placed at the rebellion's disposal. We're a long way out from the center. It'll be some time before they notice anything."
"Virimonde's only yours till I come to take it back," said Owen. "Don't make yourself too comfortable, David. You aren't going to be there long."
"You have no right to anything there, whatever happens in the rebellion," said David. "I'm the Deathstalker now, and you're nobody. I will defend what's mine against all enemies."
"I wouldn't be too sure about that," said Owen, smiling coldly. "As I recall, the Lordship of Virimonde is part of the price on my head. All someone has to do is kill me, and Lionstone will make him Lord of Virimonde. Your Standing's built on sand, David. And the tide's coming in."
"If the rebellion wants the continuous food and supplies my planet can provide, they will acknowledge me as the rightful Lord, now and hereafter," said David. "No one individual is greater than the cause. Right, Random?"
"Yes," said Random. "I'm sorry, Owen."
David smiled smugly at Owen. "All traces of your brief reign have been removed. Soon, no one will remember you were ever Lord. It isn't as though you made much of an impact on the place. Hidden away in your Standing, writing histories no one ever read. I, on the other hand, have great plans for Virimonde. I'll make the name Deathstalker great again."
Owen seethed silently. The thought of this young usurper living in his Standing, sleeping in his bed, and drinking the best wines from his cellar drove him almost to apoplexy, but somehow he kept his peace. Much as he hated to admit it, Random was right. The rebellion had to take preference over a personal quarrel. He was still searching for something diplomatic to say when Giles stepped forward, fixing David with an implacable stare.
"The Deathstalker name has always been great, boy. You just have to live up to the rest of us. If you want to prove yourself, do it on the field of battle, as Deathstalkers always have. In the meantime, you and Owen make peace. You're Family. You're bound together by blood and honor and nine hundred years of tradition. You're both my children, in every way that matters, and I won't have you at daggers drawn. Now, make your peace or I'll bang your heads together."
Owen had to smile. The original Deathstalker had a way of getting to the heart of things. Family was more important than politics, and always would be. Causes come and go, politics mutate and evolve, but the Family goes on. He nodded brusquely to David.
"I don't want to see you dead, David. I doubt very much we're ever going to like each other, but you're still Family. Just remember that although you currently have everything I had, the Iron Bitch can take it away from you in a moment, just like she took it from me. Watch your back. And watch your own security people, too. They were the first to turn on me when I was outlawed. See me afterward, and I'll tell you about a way out they don't know about."
"Thanks for the advice," said David. "I'll bear it in mind." He looked back at Jack Random. "Kit SummerIsle and I represent a great many others of our generation: younger sons who'll never inherit and are… impatient with the way things are. Many of them have made careers in the army and the fleet, and they might just throw in their lot with the rebellion if they were offered the right incentives."
"Talk to them," said Random. "But be careful what you promise. None of us can look too far into the future at this point."
And then he broke off as a group of six men moved purposefully through the crowd toward him, their hologram signals so strong they forced all others aside. People cursed and spluttered, but the six men ignored them. They were tall and willowy, albinos with milk-white skin and hair and bloodred eyes. They wore long robes of swirling colors, and their faces had been savagely ritually scarred. Everyone knew who they were, who they had to be. The Blood Runners were infamous in deed and legend. They were based in the Obeah systems, a small group of planets out on the Rim, united by a dark and ancient religion based on blood and suffering and possession by deceased ancestors. Murderous fanatics, and proud of it. They were branded as heretics by the established Church long ago, but no one did anything about it. The Blood Runners had a hand in every dirty and illegal trade in the Empire, and their reach was very long. They dealt in everything from Wampyr Blood to clonelegging to slavery, and bowed their pale heads to no one. They came to a halt before Random, who studied them thoughtfully.
"Wonderful," he said finally. "More complications. What the hell are you doing here? You weren't on the guest list. Hell, you people aren't on anybody's guest list. If you turned up at a funeral, the corpse would walk out on you. In case I'm not hinting strongly enough, get the hell out of here, before we have to have the place fumigated. The rebellion will never be so badly off that we'll turn to you for support."
"Harsh words from a tired old man," said the leader of the Obeah delegation. "I am Scour; I speak for the Blood Runners. We are a people of one race and one religion, with roots far older than your revered Empire Families. We are proud and honorable, according to our traditions, and we have never bent the knee to Lionstone, or any who preceded her. We come to offer our support to the rebellion. We are wealthy. You are welcome to take what you need."
Random licked his lips. His mouth was very dry. Scour's voice was a harsh whisper, full of age and pain, like the dusky breath of an ancient mummy. Random remembered some of the uncanny things he'd heard about the Blood Runners, and suddenly they didn't seem nearly so unlikely. He didn't want their help. Didn't want anything from them. But the rebellion needed backers.
"I take it there's a price for your support," he said finally. "What did you have in mind?"
"To be left alone. We have our own ways, which have endured for centuries beyond counting, and we have no wish to change. Lionstone's new measures threaten our independence. In return for the gifts we offer, we require only to be left in peace. Disapprove if you must, but do it from a distance."
"What's the catch?" said Random.
"There is one other thing," said Scour. "A matter of honor. One of your people owes us a debt." The Blood Runners all turned their dead-w
"Don't waste your time," said Hazel. "Whatever price Captain Markee agreed to. I wasn't consulted, and I didn't agree to it. Besides, I couldn't pay it. I'm broke."
"We don't want money," said Scour. "Your Captain made an agreement with us. The Shard was to provide us with fresh bodies; a percentage of those acquired during your work as cloneleggers. We always have a need for fresh bodies. Our customs and researches tend to use them up quite quickly. We cannot overlook the debt. That would be dishonorable. So we must have our pound of flesh. You will come with us, Hazel d'Ark, and we will make good use of you. While you last."
"Like hell you will," said Owen, and his voice cracked across the silence, cold and hard and very deadly. "Hazel's my friend; no one threatens her while I'm here."
"Thank you, Owen," said Hazel, "but I can speak for myself." She glared at the Blood Runners. "Your deal was with Markee, and he's dead. You never made any deal with me, so I don't owe you squat. You're not getting your hands on me. I've heard about people who end up in your laboratories. They end up begging for death to stop the pain."