Deathstalker

Going Underground

The trouble in dealing with underground movements, thought Valentine Wolfe waspishly, is that sometimes they take their name too literally. He struggled on through the narrow service duct, shoulders hunched and head down to keep from banging it on the low tunnel roof. It stretched endlessly away before him, cramped and gloomy and unreservedly depressing. Low-intensity lamps hung down from the roof at regular intervals, providing just enough light to make him squint painfully. An insane tangle of interwoven cables stretched along the walls and ceiling, colored-coded in a way that presumably made sense to someone. Valentine thought them unforgivably gaudy and garish. Some of the cables were frayed and dangling, like hanging vines, and he had to bat them aside with his arms as he progressed. There was dirt and dust everywhere. Clearly no one had passed through the tunnel in some time, and Valentine for one didn't blame them. The view was monotonous, his back was killing him, and the smell was appalling.

He was deep in the guts of the world, in its hidden underside: the maze of sewers and access tunnels and service ducts that linked the varying self-contained worlds that existed within Golgotha. Although the complicated maze was necessary for the inner world's survival, few people ever thought of them. Only service personnel were authorized to use the passageways, but then, Valentine was used to being in places he wasn't supposed to be. His lip curled in disgust as the slime he was treading in grew steadily deeper. It was already lapping at the ankles of his very fashionable thigh-length leather boots and was doing nothing at all for their shine. Valentine didn't know what the slime was and didn't feel in the least like investigating its nature. He had a strong feeling he was better off not knowing. It looked worryingly organic, and he thought it best not to disturb the stuff any more than he had to. He trudged on down the tunnel, one hand casually resting on the gun at his hip, trying without much success to ease the aching muscles of his hunched back.

He'd discarded the frailer parts of his outfit before setting out, replacing them with more robust and anonymous items, and wrapped himself in a long black cloak. He'd wiped the heavy makeup from his face, tied back his long hair in a functional braid, and together with his new outfit he presented a quite different appearance, which was just as well. It wouldn't do for anyone to discover Valentine Wolfe attending meetings of the clone and esper undergrounds. They wouldn't understand.

It was a shame he'd had to rush away so soon after the wedding debacle. He'd expected a dull and lifeless affair, followed by appalling food and worse dancing, but in the end it had turned out to be rather amusing. He would have liked to hang around and drop a few exquisite bon mots where they could do the most harm, but the call from the underground had arrived by its usual roundabout route, and when the underground called, he answered. He didn't take kindly to being summoned by such lowlife trash, but as long as they had something he wanted, he'd go along with the game. It did have its amusing moments. Though he had to admit this wasn't one of them.

He stopped suddenly and peered suspiciously about him in the gloom. The dimly glowing lamp shed a blue-white light before and behind him, but between the widely spaced lamps there was a darkness so deep even his chemically boosted eyes couldn't pierce it. He listened intently, holding himself perfectly still, but nothing stirred. Valentine scowled thoughtfully. He could have sworn he'd heard something, but sound traveled strangely in the narrow service duct. God only knew what kind of small, disgusting life might have made a home for itself down here.

He wasn't that far from one of the main sewer offshoots, according to the map he'd memorized earlier. There were all kinds of stories about what strange and malignant creatures flourished in the sewers. Also, according to rumor, sewer workers received battle pay and bonuses for the heads of anything they brought back with them. Not that Valentine ever listened to such stories. He looked round sharply, sure he'd picked up something just at the edge of his hearing, but there was only the silence and the gloom. He concentrated, and deep within his body, drug caches dumped their loads into his systems. His breathing quickened and deepened as his metabolism speeded up, ready for action. He was stronger, faster, sharper now, and more than ready for whatever was out there. He grinned broadly. Let it come. Let them all come. A thoughtful voice somewhere at the back of his mind pointed out that he shouldn't really waste his resources. He'd set in motion events that would eventually produce a new supplier to replace dear dead Georgios, but until the new source was established and proven reliable, he would be wise to avoid using up anything he couldn't easily replace. Valentine decided to ignore the voice. It sounded entirely too sane and sensible, and Valentine Wolfe hadn't got where he was by being sane and sensible.

A light flared suddenly in the gloom ahead of him, sharp and distinct after the blue-white glare of the lamps, followed by the faint sound of footsteps splashing through the slime. Valentine's smile widened, and he drew his gun. A dark figure appeared in the tunnel ahead, silhouetted against the light. It stopped a respectful distance away, calm and silent, a ball of glowing clear white light bobbing at its shoulder. The figure looked human, but Valentine wasn't in the mood to make allowances. In fact, he felt rather like shooting it, anyway, on general principles. And then the figure spoke in a calm, collected voice that had the flat perfection of a machine. Presumably computer-disguised to prevent identification.

"I didn't mean to alarm you, good sir, but you'll understand that in our position it pays to be cautious, if not downright paranoid. Allow me to give you the first part of the current password: New."

"Hope," said Valentine, relaxing just a little but not lowering his gun. "Rather an obvious choice, I would have thought, but then no one asked my opinion. May I ask who you are?"

The figure moved slowly forward, taking its time so that Valentine wouldn't feel threatened. It finally came to a halt before him. bent almost in two under the low roof, and Valentine's interest increased as he realized that any identifying signs were concealed inside a long flowing cape. Even more interesting, there was nothing inside the cape's hood: no face, no head, nothing at all. The ball of light bobbed cheerfully at the figure's shoulder, bright and clear, and Valentine had to tone down his vision.

"I am Hood," said the figure. "Coordinator between the clone and esper undergrounds and the cyberats. And you, sir?"

"Valentine Wolfe, patron and advisor to the undergrounds. I've heard of you, Hood. The shadow in the background, the presence behind the throne, so to speak. I and the rest of the patrons are required to reveal our identities, the espers insist on it, but you alone are allowed anonymity. I wonder why."

"Because I'm valuable to them," said Hood. "And as long as they need me, they indulge me. I've heard of you, Valentine, hut then I suppose everyone has. You've pumped quite a lot of money into the undergrounds by all accounts, but I have to say I can't see why. You are heir to the Wolfe Clan; you stand to inherit everything. What on earth do you need that you have to come to the undergrounds to get it?"

"Sorry," said Valentine. "I never tell everything on a first date."

"As you wish. I wonder what the undergrounds want this time that such important backers as you and I had to be summoned so urgently?"

"It had better be important," said Valentine. "I feel quite naked without my usual persona. Shall we go?"

"Of course. It's not far now. After you."

"Oh, no. After you."

The cape's hood bobbed once in what might have been agreement or humor, and Hood turned and led the way down a side runnel that if anything smelled even worse. Valentine followed close behind, his gun still in his hand. He flushed most of the drugs from his system, but kept a few in reserve, just in case.

Normally the underground only summoned its patrons one at a time, so that if they were captured they wouldn't be able to identify anyone else. Something important must be in the wind for two to be needed. Valentine studied Hood's enigmatic back thoughtfully. The lack of a face was interesting; the underground was almost fanatical in its need to know exactly who it was dealing with. It could be a holographic disguise, but nothing less than an esp-blocker would protect Hood's thoughts from an esper's probing mind, and the underground wouldn't tolerate that for a second. Hood: a supplier of money, reportedly well connected, he worked well with both the clone and esper undergrounds, which was rare. They didn't trust easily, and there were few indeed who'd earned the trust of both.

As if to underline that thought, Hood and Valentine came to a sudden halt before the first warning sign. It was a dead man, hanging from the ceiling like a broken puppet. Its arms and legs had been smashed, with white points of splintered bone protruding from the bloody flesh. The corpse slowly raised its head to look at Hood and Valentine, and its eye sockets were empty. Blood spilled down the colorless cheeks like thick crimson tears. It opened its mouth, and maggots poured down its chin.

"Go back," it said slowly, haltingly, as though it had almost forgotten how to speak. "Go back now."

Valentine looked at Hood. "Be honest: Would this scare you if you were a crack squadron of the Empress' guards?"

"Not really," said Hood. "But then, I've seen it before. They insist on running this routine even when they know it's me. I think they just do it for the practice."

The dead man scowled at them. "Turn back. I mean it. I'm not kidding."

"Oh, shut up," said Valentine. "I've seen scarier things than you in my daydreams."

"He probably has," said Hood. "This is Valentine Wolfe. The Valentine Wolfe."

The dead man disappeared between one moment and the next. The smell stayed pretty much the same, though. The empty hood looked at Valentine. "They've heard of you."

Valentine smiled. "Everyone's heard of me." He paused. "Can you hear something?"

A low roar began from somewhere behind them, building steadily in volume. The tunnel floor vibrated under their feet. Thick ripples surged across the surface of the slime. A growing pressure built in the air, like the wave of compressed air that precedes an underground train. The roar grew louder and the floor shook. Valentine looked quickly about him, but there was nowhere to run except further down the tunnel. The roar was deafening now, the pressure of the air flat and heavy against his face. Hood was standing very still, as though frozen in place by shock. Then a vast wave of rushing water came bursting through the tunnel toward them, thundering forward like a runaway train.

"They've opened the damned sewers!" yelled Valentine. "Grab onto something or we'll be swept away!"

The tidal wave loomed up before them, filling the tunnel, and then it was gone. No water, no noise, nothing at all. The air was quiet and calm and undisturbed. Valentine let his breath out slowly.

"You bastards."

Got you, crowed a voice in his head. I don't just do corpses, you know.

Hood shook his head and chuckled slowly. "We did ask for it, didn't we?"

Just practicing. I never get to do anything down here. No one comes for ages. I don't know why we bother keeping a watch. Go straight ahead and take the second left. Meeting's just ahead. You're expected. And tell them I could do with a drink.

There was a lot Valentine felt like saying, but he didn't. He had his dignity to consider. He looked at Hood. "You can't get good help these days."

"It never pays to underestimate espers," said Hood, starting off down the tunnel again. "They know everything you're thinking."

"Oh, I doubt that," said Valentine, splashing through the slime after him. "Anyone who enters my mind does so at their own peril, after all the things I've done to it."

"Good point," said Hood. "How did someone like you ever get involved with the underground in the first place?"

Valentine smiled. "My experiments with various unusual substances led me to rumors of a new, very experimental drug that could make an esper out of anyone, even from those with absolutely no family history of psionics. If there is such a drug, I want it. Esp is one of the few experiences still unknown to me. Just the thought of something so new and vital makes my mouth water. I must have it.

"Pursuit of this drug brought me to the elves and the underground, and for the first time I realized what a potential power base they represented. With their help, I could attain heights of power I would never otherwise have dreamed of. The espers will break free eventually, Hood. It's inevitable.

They are the wave of the future, the next evolutionary step for humanity. And I intend to ride that wave as far and high as I can. Who knows, it might even carry me to the Iron Throne itself. Now wouldn't that be something." He paused thoughtfully. "Of course, I'd have to kill my father and Family first. I'm quite looking forward to that."

He stopped talking suddenly. It seemed to him that he was saying entirely too much to someone he barely knew. He didn't know why. Perhaps the tidal wave illusion had upset him more than he realized. Or perhaps not. Either way, he'd watch his words very carefully from now on. He was beginning to get the feeling they weren't entirely his own. He'd always known there was a risk in dealing with espers, but he'd thought the mental disciplines he'd mastered in constantly altering his brain chemistry would give him some kind of protection. But spilling his secrets to a comparative stranger definitely wasn't like him. He took him out his silver pillbox, took out a tab and pressed it against the side of his neck, over the vein.

"Just a little something to wake me up," he said blithely, putting away the pillbox. He smiled broadly as the jolt kicked in. He took a deep breath and let it out through his smile. Already his thoughts were feeling clearer, faster, sharper. 'Tell me about yourself, Hood: What brought you into our little world of treason and subterfuge?"

"I was part of the security force responsible for tracking down and eliminating the cyberats," said Hood. "But the more I learned of them, the more I grew to understand and then envy their unrelenting search for truth and freedom. The Empress stays in power because her people control information, regulating how much we're allowed to know about anything. You can't protest against a thing if you don't know it's happening. Most of what we know is based on lies and distortions. The cyberats showed me pans of the world I'd never seen before, and having seen, I couldn't close my eyes again.

"My growing contacts with the cyberats led me to the underground, and the more I learned of their struggle, the more I sympathized. It took me a long time to convince all the various elements of my sincerity, but my connections with the Empress' own security forces made me an invaluable ally. I have proved my worth. So the man who once haunted rebels now works to protect them. Such is life. I've always felt a little irony was good for the blood. I'm intrigued by your interest in the esper drug. I assure you, it's very effective."

"How do you know?" said Valentine.

"Because I took it," said Hood. "I volunteered; in fact, I insisted. I'd seen so much I'd never seen before, and I wanted to see even more. The results were… interesting. Minor telepathy, some projective imagery, similar to what we just saw in the tunnel. I'm no match for a born esper, but I see deeper and more clearly now than I ever did before. Theoretically, stronger doses of the drug should produce stronger effects, but there have been unfortunate side effects in others who have tried the drug."

Valentine smiled serenely. "That's part of the thrill of experimenting with a new drug: the risks and discoveries. The joy of exploring unknown territories and daring fate to do its worst. Not unlike the thrill of being a rebel, really. I always look forward to getting the call. Though I do wish they'd stop changing the meeting place. Every time I have to walk a little further and pass through even more disgusting scenery to get there."

Hood shrugged. "Basic security. Keep moving, keep looking over your shoulder, and keep everyone else off balance. The Empress has a lot of people trying to find the underground, and they've got a much bigger budget than we have. I do my best to quietly steer them in the wrong direction, but there's a limit to what I can do without giving myself away. I might support the underground, but I have no intention of dying for it."

"Technically speaking," said Valentine, "this isn't actually the underground. We're not that far from the surface, just in between the inner and outer spheres. I think they just call it the underground to confuse people."

"Understandable. And you must admit, saying you're part of the underground sounds a lot better than saying you're one of the in-betweenies."

Valentine smiled politely, and they walked a ways in silence. They both knew that by now unseen minds were probing theirs to make sure they were who they were supposed to be. They also knew that if either of them had even looked like failing the test, they'd be dead. Nothing was allowed to threaten the underground. Valentine and the man called Hood rounded a corner, ducked under a low entrance and stepped out of the cramped tunnel into a brightly lit giant cavern of gleaming metal. Hood's ball of light snapped out. Multicolored wires crawled across the walls, hung dangling from the high ceiling and disappeared into conduits like snakes sliding into their holes. Mysterious bulking machinery jutted out of the walls, crowding each other for space. The floor was covered with debris, smashed and broken pieces of high tech, some recent, some apparently not. There were living things in the center of the floor, but Valentine chose not to look at them just yet. He straightened up slowly with a grateful sigh, and massaged his aching back with both hands.

"You're the tech expert. Hood. Where the hell are we this time? It looks like a repairman's nightmare."

"An old workstation, by the look of it. Abandoned and forgotten and renovated by the cyberats. There are lots of places like this between the various worlds within Golgotha; places that served a purpose once, but were left behind as technology moved on. The cyberats love them; play with them for hours. They've got hundreds of refuges like this that don't appear in current computer records anymore."

"It's a dump," said Valentine.

"Well, yes, but you have to admit it does smell better than the sewers."

"Actually, I quite like dumps. They appeal to my preference for chaos. I love the patterns they make."

He giggled cheerfully, and Hood looked at him. Valentine looked back, and then the two of them walked forward to bow courteously to the esper representatives in the middle of the great metal chamber. As always, the representatives hid their true identities behind telepathically projected images. They might have been there in person, or they might have been sending the images from somewhere else. It was a talent that Valentine greatly envied.

The esper leaders were a mystery, and they were determined to keep it that way. So a waterfall fell through the air, bubbling and gushing, coming from nowhere and going back there when it touched the floor. Strange colors came and went, and two shadows that might have been eyes hovered midway. Beside the waterfall a swirling mandala hung upon the air, an intricate pattern of glowing lines twisting and turning in upon itself endlessly. Valentine could have watched it for hours. Next to that, a twelve-foot-long dragon lay curled around a tree, light gleaming dully on its golden scales. Valentine was never quite sure whether that was one representative or two. He'd never heard the tree say anything, but then the dragon didn't have much to say, either. And finally, there was the individual Valentine always thought of as Mr. Perfect. A massively muscled figure, developed almost to the point of caricature, he stood with his arms across his massive chest, staring commandingly at his visitors. Valentine always felt an overwhelming urge to sneak up behind him and goose him. Except he probably wasn't really there.

There was no guarantee anyone was. The images could be coming from anywhere. They had no reality outside the recipient's mind. Valentine was familiar with that feeling. It occurred to him that Hood might be seeing something completely different. He'd have to compare notes later. He'd been quietly trying to piece together some idea of who was behind the images for some time, but to no effect. The esper representatives were extremely paranoid about their secrets, and with good cause. The reward for esper rebellion was death. Eventually. The cavern was silent, but the air was tense and brittle with the unspoken speech of the telepaths. Hood leaned in close beside Valentine.

"I can just about tap in on what's going on. Listen through me."

A sharp prickling wrapped around Valentine's head like a halo of barbed wire, and slowly he became aware of a soft susurrus of voices filling the chamber. They meshed and intersected without colliding, a hundred voices speaking all at once without confusion or loss of meaning. The voices were more than just words: thoughts and feelings and impressions rolled around each other, adding tartness and flavor. And underlying the music of gathered minds, the hard unyielding beat of six major minds: conferring, directing and deciding. Valentine's mind swayed with the rhythm, but held itself apart and intact. The impact would have been too much for the normal human mind to cope with, but Valentine's mind wasn't normal anymore. Not after all the things he'd done to it. He hung on the fringes, savoring what he could, fascinated. If this is what the esper drug can do, I want it. And to hell with what it costs me. He sensed as much as heard Hood's laughter beside him.

And then Hood moved away, and the link was broken.

Valentine rocked on his feet, shrunk once again to the narrow margins of his own mind. Faint traces of the experience remained with him, leaving him hungry for more. Valentine smiled wryly. Presumably that had been Hood's intention, to get him off balance and at the same time concentrate his attention on ways of getting the esper drug for himself. Except Valentine knew all about drugs, and bowed to none of them. He had other business here besides the esper drug. The underground was a route to power, and that came first. Always.

He looked round sharply as four men with the same face entered the chamber from another entrance. They wore carefully distinct clothing, but they moved in the same way and their faces held the same thoughts. Clones. Presumably representatives for the clone underground. They were tall and slender, almost impossibly graceful, and had a natural gravitas that went beyond dignity. Valentine knew a natural leader when he saw one. Whatever they were all here to discuss, it must be pretty damned important. The clone leaders rarely appeared in person.

They were followed in by three women with the same face, and Valentine's interest was piqued. He'd seen that face before. Seen it on an esper called Stevie Blue, who died at the Empress' feet after humiliating her in front of the whole court with a pie in the face. She'd been an elf: Esper Liberation Front. The more extreme edge of the esper underground. And now it seemed she was a clone as well. That was unusual. Not many espers survived the cloning process.

The three women looked to be in their early twenties, wearing the same leather and chains their dead sister had worn, not to mention the same T-shirt, bearing the legend "Born To Burn." They were short and stocky, with muscular bare arms, and one of them was casually hefting a solid steel dumbbell as though it weighed nothing. Long dark hair fell to their shoulders, full of knotted ribbons. Their faces were sharp, high-cheekboned, and daubed with fierce colors. They each wore swords on their hips in leather scabbards that looked like they'd seen a lot of use. The three women looked cold and calm and very dangerous.

"Welcome, Stevie Blues," said Mr. Perfect. "You honor us with your presence. As espers and clones, you are uniquely suited to bring the two undergrounds together."

"Even though neither of us can be sure where your loyalties really lie," said the dragon, a long, thin tongue flickering out of his mouth.

"Save the flattery and the paranoia," said one of the Stevie Blues. "We're here to talk; let's get on with it. Some of us have a life outside the underground."

"Freaks and perverts," growled the flowing mandala. "Group marriages such as yours are forbidden among clones."

"We're elves, first and foremost," said the middle Stevie Blue calmly. "We fight for freedom. All kinds of freedom. Want to make something of it?"

Roaring flames suddenly licked up around the three elves, and the heat drove everybody back a step. It didn't affect the Stevie Blues. They were pyros and immune to their own fire. The clone representatives frowned severely, making it clear this was nothing to do with them. The waterfall began to steam slightly, and the dragon shifted uncomfortably. Mr. Perfect's face was turning red. Maybe he was present, after all. Valentine grinned, enjoying the show.

"Well?" said the third Stevie Blue, glaring at the mandala. "You have anything further to say?"

"Not at this time," said the mandala stiffly. The elves' fire snapped off, and everyone breathed a little more easily.

"Can't we leave you people alone together for ten minutes?" said a new voice, and everyone turned to look. All around the walls, viewscreens were flashing on as the cyberats made their appearance. Computer hackers, techno-freaks, teenage rebels with any number of causes. Like the esper representatives, they hid their true faces behind computer-generated images. Cyberats faced death or reconditioning if caught, but for them the lure and possibilities of the computer system was just too much to resist. Most of them had no interest in politics or rebellion, outside of wanting to be left alone, but the shared danger provided a common ground with the clone and esper undergrounds.

Cyberats were unpeople, hiding behind fake IDs and a multitude of names, organizations and corporate identities. They lived like rats in the walls of the state, foraging for what they needed when no one was looking. Ghosts haunting the machine just for the hell of it. They helped fund the underground through various scams and computer frauds and used the opportunity to vent their spleen on the authorities who persecuted them. There were a great number of ways to make someone's life miserable through computers, and the cyberats knew all of them. After all, they'd invented most of them.

The esper and clone representatives looked severely about them at the grinning faces covering the walls and maintained a dignified silence. Long experience had taught them they couldn't win with the cyberats, who spent most of their time engaged in wars of words with each other. A few voices jeered at the representatives, and then were distracted by the last of the arrivals. The aristocratic backers had finally turned up, fashionably late of course, stepping out of the entrances as though just entering the chamber was enough to soil their clothing. Valentine smiled at them, and they bowed briefly in return. There were only three of them. Most of the aristocrats who for one reason or another backed the underground, preferred to do so discreetly, and at long distance.

On the whole, they funded the underground as a means to political power. Mostly younger sons, who weren't going to inherit, or at least not fast enough to suit them, and therefore had to look for advancement where they could. They wore no disguises; the underground didn't trust them any further than they could spit into the wind with their mouths closed and were determined to know exactly who they were dealing with. If only so they could get them later, if things went wrong. The aristocrats went along, with much bad grace. It wasn't as if they had a choice. You only came to the underground when there was nowhere else to go. Personally, Valentine didn't give a damn.

Evangeline Shreck he knew from before, and her appearance here was no surprise. A fervent supporter of the clone underground in recent times, for reasons which remained obscure. David Deathstalker was a new face. He'd inherited the title after Owen was outlawed and didn't look any too pleased about it. Only seventeen years old, a minor cousin, unused to the hot house intrigues of the Imperial Court. Tall, immaculately dressed, and possibly not as nervous as he appeared. Handsome enough to set a few hearts fluttering at court, but young enough not to know that yet. Or maybe not. He was a Deathstalker, after all.

He'd acquired the title by default. Owen had no brothers or sisters; the supposedly genetic quirk that gave Deathstalkers the boost also killed most children before they reached maturity. The Family considered it an acceptable risk. No one ever asked the children what they thought about it. So far, David's motivations seemed clear enough. He wanted to avoid being outlawed like Owen, or executed like Owen's father, and was smart enough to know he had absolutely no allies at court. The Deathstalker name had become synonymous with treason and bad luck, and most people were keeping well clear in case it rubbed off.

The third face held Valentine's interest the longest. Kit Summerlsle, called by some Kid Death, who murdered his own Family in the name of ambition only to find himself alone, trusted neither by the court nor any Family. A mad dug who'd slipped his leash. Presumably Kit was there as a backer of the underground because no one else would touch him. The Empress had played with him for a while, but Kit had to be wise enough to know that wouldn't last. He was too dangerous: a sword that might just as easily turn on anyone who tried to wield it. Kid Death, the smiling killer, resplendent as always in his armor of black and silver. He looked very young, with his pale face and flyaway blond hair, but the icy blue eyes were very old. They'd seen enough death for a dozen lifetimes and loved every minute of it.

Valentine stepped forward and bowed courteously to Evangeline Shreck. "Dear Evangeline, so good to see you again. Pity about the wedding, but that's life. Or rather, death. Your father always did have a propensity to overreact."

"That's one way of putting it," said Evangeline. "You look quite different without your face on, Valentine. Almost human."

"A mere illusion," Valentine said smoothly. He turned to the young Deathstalker and bowed again, not quite as low. "I've not had the pleasure, I believe, sir. David, isn't it? I'm…"

"I know who you are. And it's pronounced Dah-veed, actually." The Deathstalker's voice was cool and sharp, trying hard for the gravitas he felt his title required.

"As you wish," said Valentine. "But I fear you too must learn to come when the underground calls, however they pronounce your name. There's no room down here for the airs and graces we allow ourselves in society. That is, after all. part of the charm of treason. There are no rules here, no required behavior, no one to make us kneel or bow the head.

We are equal here. And all they ask of us is a willingness to fight and if need be die for the cause."

"Then why are you here, Valentine?" said Kid Death. "You never cared for any cause save your own continuing self-destruction."

Valentine took his time turning, and smiled at the Summerlsle. "Where better to seek death or transformation than in the midst of rebellion? There's only one place on Golgotha more dangerous than the underground, and that's the Arena. And that's always seemed too much like hard work for me. I'm really rather delicate, you know."

"You have the constitution of an ox," said Evangeline. "Your system has to be in top form to put up with all the things you do to it."

"I know why he's here," said Kid Death. "He wants the drug. The esper drug. Trust me, Valentine, if you did get it, you wouldn't like it. You'd find out what everyone really thinks of you."

Valentine smiled dazzlingly. "You already know what everyone thinks of you, dear Kit, and it hasn't slowed you down any."

"I want to know why Hood is allowed to hide his face," said David. "We weren't allowed to, even though it meant having to expose our faces in front of brain damage cases like Valentine and Kid Death."

"How unkind," murmured Valentine. "No one appreciates a true artist."

Kid Death looked steadily at David. "You really must learn to choose your words more carefully, Deathstalker. You never know when they might be your last."

David looked at him defiantly. His hand was very near his sword. "You don't frighten me, Summerlsle."

"Then he should," said Evangeline. "I've seen you both fight, and he'd win. Now if you two have both finished shaking your genitalia at each other, perhaps we could hear Hood answer the question about his anonymity. Personally, I'm all ears."

Kid Death and David Deathstalker looked at each other, and David looked away first. Valentine studied him thoughtfully. Perhaps the young Deathstalker wasn't as naive as he seemed. The Summerlsle was a psychopath, and everyone knew it. If he were to turn those cold eyes in Valentine's direction, Valentine had every intention of bowing low and backing down. And then possibly dropping a little something lethal in the Summerlsle's drink at some future time. He looked across at Hood as he realized the silence had lengthened and Hood still hadn't answered the question. The man without a face stood very still, the empty interior of his hood as enigmatic as ever.

"I am valuable to the underground and the cyberats," he said finally. "They indulge me rather than risk losing what I provide."

"And what might that be?" said Kit.

"You don't need to know," said Hood.

"But we insist," said David.

The two of them moved unhurriedly toward Hood, taking up positions on either side of him so that he couldn't face them both at once. Their hands were very near their swords.

"That's enough!" snapped Mr. Perfect, and everyone turned to look. The esper representative glared at them all impartially. "We did not summon you here to squabble like children in a playground. We have business to discuss, and the longer we stay here, gathered together in one place, the more danger we put ourselves in."

"Damn right," said one of the Stevie Blues. She strode forward to take up a position in the center of the chamber, hands on hips. "Security would just love to get the drop on us because we were too busy arguing among ourselves to hear them coming. Everyone stops messing about right now, or my sisters and I will start banging heads together. You can call me Stevie One. My sisters are Two and Three. Don't get us mixed up or we'll hit you. We pride ourselves on our individuality."

There was a general relaxing and moving away by all those present. Stevie One nodded to Mr. Perfect to take over. David sniffed at the three clones.

"Bunch of perverts," he said quietly to Valentine. "And they dare call what they have a marriage."

"Be fair," said Valentine. "At least they can be sure what they see in each other. Anyway, at least now we get to know why the elves summoned us here."

Mr. Perfect glared at him. "The esper council summoned you, not the elves. They are only a part of the underground. The Stevie Blues do not speak for everyone here."

Stevie Two sniffed. "You still come to us when you want something dirty done. Especially if it's risky. And who has a better right to speak than my sisters and I? We're both espers and clones; we understand the pressures of both sides. No one knows more of suffering than we do."

"Right," said Stevie Three.

"We will be heard," said Stevie One. "Our sister is dead, murdered by the Iron Bitch. We demand a vengeance."

"I didn't know there were any esper clones left alive," said David quietly to Evangeline while the espers argued. "I thought they were all wiped out and further experimentation forbidden."

"Lots of things are forbidden," murmured Evangeline. "But they still happen, if there's profit to be made. As I understand it, the Stevie Blues were a secret military experiment in cloning battle espers. Didn't work out. Most of the subjects died, and the survivors were too powerful. Too uncontrollable, unpredictable. Word about the experiments got out, and the Empress was furious that she hadn't been consulted. Gave the order to close everything down. The Stevie Blues were marked for execution, but they escaped. The elves took them in, gave them a purpose in life and a shape for their revenge. As both espers and clones, they were supposed to be a link between the two undergrounds, but no one seems too sure where their true loyalties lie. Perhaps even they're not sure."

"Fair enough," said David. He realized the espers had stopped talking and settled for glaring at each other, so he raised his voice again. "I still want to know why Hood hides his face."

"Oh, tell him," said the dragon. "Or we'll be here all night."

"I am highly placed in the Empress' retinue," said Hood. "I have her trust, in as much as she trusts anyone. I am not ready to endanger myself by revealing my identity to those who don't need to know. The underground indulges me because I discovered the esper drug. None of us can afford for the Empress to learn about that. They'd get the secret out of me eventually; they always do. My identity remains a secret because it is in all our best interests. Now, as the Stevie Blues have pointed out, we have business to discuss."

"I said that," said Mr. Perfect.

"Then get on with it," said Valentine. "What exactly is so important that we had to be dragged here at such short notice and at such an ungodly hour?"

"We have a plan," said Stevie One. "We elves have placed one of our own in the water purification department. Through him we have unlimited access to the water supply network for the whole of Golgotha. We propose to introduce the esper drug into the water system. I'm told a really small amount, as little as one part per million, would be enough to have an effect on anyone who drank it or even had contact with the affected water. No one would notice its presence until it was far too late. No one knows it exists but us, and unless you knew exactly what you were looking for, the esper drug would just blend in with all the other drugs in the water. It's pumped full of happy drugs and tranquilizers, as it is, to keep the common herd quiet. With millions of espers suddenly appearing overnight, the Empress would have no choice but to recognize espers as full citizens, with full privileges. After all, most of her subjects would be espers, along with most of her own people. Who knows, maybe we'll get really lucky, and she'll get a surprise in her drink, too…"

There was a long pause as everyone took it in turn to look at each other. The Stevie Blues smiled at each other smugly.

"You have got to be joking!" said Evangeline. "You're crazy!"

"Oh, I don't know," said Valentine. "I rather like the sound of it myself."

"You would," snapped David. "Anyone who is anyone drinks offworld bottled water. Only the lower classes drink tap water. And the Empress would rather wipe out every single one of them on this planet than be dictated to."

"Nicely put," said Evangeline. "Didn't think you had it in you, David."

"Dah-veed."

"Don't push it, Deathstalker."

"Look," said Stevie One. 'The esper and clone undergrounds have been fighting for self-determination for almost three centuries, and what have we to show for it? Nothing but increased security on all levels and greater controls over the clone and esper populations. The elves emerged out of a need to strike back, to take the attack to the enemy. This would be a blow against the Empress' authority that couldn't be hidden or hushed up. A whole planetful of espers couldn't be ignored. They'd be too valuable just to be wiped out."

"Right," said Stevie Three.

There was a flood of approval from the cyberats on the surrounding viewscreens. They were always up for a little orchestrated chaos and mayhem, and they admired audacity. They'd always been troublemakers first and rebels second. The various faces on the screens began shouting advice and support, and then started shouting at each other to shut up, 'until finally one of the esper representatives had the sense to turn the volume right down. The cyberats raved silently on, oblivious to the fact that no one was listening to them anymore. They were used to that.

"You're still carefully overlooking the main objection," said Evangeline to the Stevie Blues. "According to the figures I've seen, the esper drug kills twenty to forty percent of those who take it. If we gave it to the entire population of Golgotha, how many innocents would die for our revenge?"

"None of them are innocent," said Stevie Two defiantly. "They're all part of the system that brutalizes us. They're happy enough to profit from our pain."

"Right," said Stevie Three. "When have they ever cared for us?"

"What do you think we should do?" said Stevie One, glaring at Evangeline. "Commit suicide in public as a protest, like that poor fool you smuggled into the wedding? What difference did it make? No one gave a damn. They don't care if an esper or a clone dies; we're just property. They can just replace us. It's not like we were people. Do I need to stand here and tell you horror stories of the way we've been treated to justify our plan? We've all lost someone dear. It's barely a year since Dram and his butchers attacked our base in New Hope. That was supposed to be our first step forward, out of the darkness and into the light. Espers and clones and normals living together in harmony. A living example of the way things could be.

"And then the attack sleds came falling out of the sky, opening fire without warning. Hundreds of thousands died as the city burned. Men, women and children; espers, clones and normals. There was nothing we could do but run for our lives. It took us a year to rebuild the underground, and now all the normals are too scared even to be seen with us. Every chance we had for peaceful coexistence died with New Hope. All that's left is the elves and the armed struggle. Did our friends die for nothing? Have you forgotten the screams bursting through our minds, blinking out one by one, like candles caught in a storm?"

"Revenge," said one of the male clones, and everyone turned to look. The four men had been quiet so long everyone had forgotten they were there. "Revenge is all elves ever want. We want peace. Freedom. We have to learn to live with the normals because it's their universe. Their Empire. One day it might be ours, but none of us will live to see it. Pardon our paranoia, but we can't see how a planetful of traumatized espers, mourning their dead, would do anything to further the clone cause. The Empire would waste no time in blaming the undergrounds. We'd be branded mass-murderers, and they'd be right. Everyone would turn against us, even the new espers."

"He's got a point," said David. "I really don't think I can go along with this."

"No one asked you, Dah-veed," said Stevie One. "You don't understand what we're talking about."

"Presumably you have some interest in our opinions," said Valentine. "Or else why were we called here?"

"We value your input," said the shimmering mandala. "We are… unable to decide. It occurred to us that perhaps we are too close to the question. Hopefully you will help us see the wider issues. The esper drug could be the means to our finally winning the war, or it could damn us all forever. Talk to us. All of you. We must decide."

"What's the hurry?" said Evangeline. "We don't have to go ahead with the drug immediately, even if we do decide to go for it. The secret of the drug is safe with us, and the water systems aren't going anywhere. As long as your man keeps his head down and doesn't draw attention to himself, we can take our time over this, make sure we end up with the right decision."

"And how many espers and clones would die while we were talking?" said Stevie Two.

"A lot less than twenty to forty percent," said Hood.

"There's still a lot we don't understand about the drug," said Mr. Perfect. "We were understandably intrigued with the thought of what the drug would do to someone who was already an esper. We hoped it might produce the super-esper we've been searching for, someone strong enough to overcome the effects of the esp-blocker and free us from its control. We had many volunteers."

"So what happened?" said Valentine.

"They all died," said the dragon. "Some were killed outright, some went insane and then died. Some tore out their own eyes because of what they were seeing. It would seem we're not ready as a species to become super-espers. We must continue to rely on our cyberat friends to come up with a technological answer."

"They've been promising a breakthrough on that for years!" snapped Stevie One. "We're tired of waiting. This drug is our chance to strike back at those who've hurt us! We can't wait. How long can it be before some traitor in our organizations gets hold of the formula and hands it over to security? Just because we're espers, it doesn't mean we can't be fooled. We must use the drug now, while we still have the advantage of surprise."

"Right," said Stevie Three. "Who cares about a few dead normals?"

"We care," said one of the male clones. "Our argument has always been that we are not just property: we are humans, too. We will not risk that humanity by becoming responsible for mass slaughter."

"You've always been dreamers," said Stevie Two. "We can't live with normals. They're too different."

"They seem to have managed quite successfully on Mistworld."

"Yeah, well," said Stevie One. "From what I've heard, it's a right hellhole. I wouldn't live there if you paid me."

"We're drifting away from the subject again," said Evangeline. "It seems to me there are still too many unanswered questions about the esper drug. Firstly, we can't be sure of a mortality rate of just twenty to forty percent when dealing with such a large dose. It could turn out to be much higher. Word would get out eventually as to who was responsible; that's inevitable. And then the normals would hate us as never before.

"Secondly, I think getting the drug past all the checks and filters would prove to be a great deal harder than you've been assuming. One man on his own couldn't hope to oversee everything. I think we should ask the cyberats to run some computer simulations first. In the meantime, I think we'd do better to concentrate our efforts on bringing influential people to see the justice of our cause. The real war will be fought and won in the hearts and minds of people everywhere. After all, the Empress can't live forever. Perhaps a coalition of the right people could even replace her in the future."

"Right," said Stevie Three. "A coalition. You'd love that. With you at its head, no doubt?"

"They could do worse," said Hood.

"We have heard enough," said the dragon. It stretched slowly, light rippling across its golden scales. "Evangeline Shreck has provided the voice of reason, as always. We do not reject the idea outright, but it is clear that much more research must be undertaken before we can commit ourselves. The matter is now closed." He looked hard at the Stevie Blues, who glared back, but had nothing further to say. For the moment. The dragon nodded its head slowly. "We will now move on to the next order of business: the fate of the traitor Edwyn Burgess. Bring him forward."

H very one looked round sharply as a man stepped slowly out of a low entrance. He stumbled forward into the middle of the chamber, his movements awkward and deliberate, clearly controlled from without. He was a small, insignificant man with a vague, empty face and frightened eyes. Sweat poured down his face and soaked his clothing. As he drew nearer, they could hear he was whimpering softly. He finally came to a halt in the exact center of the floor and stood still. Unnaturally still.

"Edwyn Burgess," said a cold disembodied voice that could have come from any of the esper representatives, or all of them. "You stand accused of treason against your brothers, condemned by information discovered within your mind. You were preparing to betray the location of this meeting to Security forces, and were only discovered thanks to information supplied by our good friend Hood. Tell us why. Was it the money?"

"Partly," said Burgess, desperation flooding his face as control over him was briefly relaxed. "Mostly I was just so tired of being scared all the time. Jumping at every knock on the door, convinced it was Security come at last to drag me away. In the end I went to them. I couldn't stand the strain anymore. Only after that, I was just as scared of what you'd do when you found out. Security said they'd protect me, but I knew better. When your people finally came to get me, it was almost a relief."

"We understand," said the voice. "But with so many lives put at risk by your weakness, we cannot be merciful. We are all scared, Edwyn, but we have not broken. How many thousands would have been betrayed if we had been taken by Security? The whole underground could have been shattered beyond repair."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Burgess' voice was flat and heavy, beyond hope or fear. "I've learned my lesson. I won't be weak again. I wouldn't dare."

"We're sorry," said the voice. "We must make an example."

"Then make it quick," said Burgess.

"Yes," said the voice. "We can do that."

Burgess exploded, flying apart in a cloud of blood and gut and broken bone. Everyone stepped back instinctively, but the debris didn't travel far, contained by the same force that had produced it. The offal fell to the floor in a series of soft, flat sounds, and as quickly as that it was all over. It was very quiet in the chamber. One of the cyberats on the screens whistled respectfully. Valentine stepped forward and nudged at a lump of bloody muscle with the tip of his boot.

"How about that," he said, smiling. "He did have a heart, after all."

And that was when everything went to hell in a hurry. An alarm sounded, loud and strident, and over it came the sound of energy guns firing. All around the walls of the chamber, the cyberats vanished from the viewscreens as they dropped out of the system. For a moment there was only the hissing of blank screens, and then they cleared one by one to show rapidly changing views of armed guards running through the approach tunnels. They were everywhere, filling the tunnels, firing their disrupters at unseen esper resistance. Whatever the esper sentries were doing, it didn't seem to be slowing the guards down any.

"Why aren't they using illusions to stop the guards?" said Evangeline. "I thought that was what they were there for!"

"Look at the screens," Valentine said quietly. "They've got esp-blockers. Our friend Burgess must have got his message out before he was caught. Look at the uniforms: those are Imperial guards. The Empress' own. She knew there'd be important people here."

And then everyone was shouting at once and trying to outshout everyone else. David Deathstalker and Kit Summerlsle had their guns and swords in their hands, but only Kid Death looked ready to use them. Hood was looking from one screen to another, as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Evangeline had gone very pale, but her hands had clenched into fists. She looked at Valentine, who smiled and made helpless motions with his hands. Behind his flustered facade, Valentine was thinking fast. He had any number of battle drugs ready to drop into his system at a moment's notice, but he was reluctant to throw away his carefully established persona until he absolutely had to. It wouldn't do for word to get out that he wasn't the useless type he'd always pretended to be. People might start wondering what else he'd been hiding. On the other hand, he couldn't afford to be taken prisoner by the guards, for much the same reason. He decided to wait and see how much danger he was really in. And then the esper representatives vanished between one moment and the next, and the air rushed in to fill the space where they'd been.

"The bastards!" yelled Stevie One. "They've teleported out and left us to die!"

There were six entrances giving out into the chamber, none of them big enough for more than two men to pass through at a time. The Stevie Blues covered three of them, psionic flames leaping menacingly from their hands. Kit moved to cover another and gestured for David to take the next. Kid Death was grinning broadly. David looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else, but his eyes were calm and his mouth was firm, and he held his sword and his gun as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He was a Deathstalker, after all. That left one opening gaping unattended. Hood was still frozen in place before the screens. Evangeline started toward the entrance as though she might break into a run at any moment, but Valentine stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Don't," he murmured. 'Trying to run would be a really bad idea. Look at the screens. The guards have got all the escape routes covered, and at the moment they're shooting at anything that isn't them. There's nowhere to go."

"You don't understand!" said Evangeline. "I can't afford to be caught!"

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "I think you'll find that's true for most of us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better guard that entrance."

Evangeline looked at him. "You? What are you going to do? Bribe your way past the guards with handfuls of drugs?"

"Oh, I'll think of something," Valentine said calmly. "Besides, there's no one else, is there?"

Evangeline looked at Hood, still rooted to the spot, and looked away.

"Give me a knife," she said quietly. "I won't be taken alive."

Valentine studied her for a long moment, then drew a long stiletto from his boot and handed it to her. She accepted it with a nod of thanks and moved over to stand beside Hood and watch the screens. Valentine moved unhurriedly over to the gaping entrance. He was still thinking hard. He'd put a lot of time and effort into his usual persona, and now it seemed he was going to have to throw it away. As usual, man proposes and the Empress disposes. And then a thought came to him, and he smiled. He didn't know what he was so worried about; the odds were he was going to die anyway. The thought cheered him, and he checked the contents of his pillbox for something special. Some of the guards were in for a very unpleasant surprise.

The first armed men rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-face with Stevie One, guarding the entrance. They raised their guns and the esper hit them with a blast of white-hot flames. The guards screamed as the blazing fire filled the tunnel, sucking the air from their lungs as it crisped their flesh. More guards appeared in the adjacent tunnels, only to meet Stevies Two and Three. They summoned up fire, and the leading guards died horribly. Evangeline watched them die on the viewscreens and wouldn't let herself look away. The remaining guards came to a halt in the tunnels as word of the deaths got to them. They were waiting for something.

"They're bringing the esp-blockers forward!" yelled Stevie Two. "I can feel them getting closer. My flame's already beginning to die down."

More guards spilled into a different tunnel, only to find Kid Death waiting for them. He shot the first men with almost lazy precision, and then put the gun away and waded into the guards, swinging his sword double-handed. In the narrow tunnel, they could only come at him two at a time, and that was no threat to Kid Death. He laughed as he worked: a light, breathy and altogether horrible sound.

David Deathstalker boosted, and all his worries fell away. The guards were no match for him, either. But there were so many of them, and neither Kit nor David had any illusions about their eventual fate. If the guards had only had more guns, it would have been over by now.

And then Evangeline shouted and pointed at the view-screens, and Valentine heard a familiar roar deep in the tunnels. He looked back at the screens and grinned broadly. The guards in the tunnel heard him laughing, and then they heard the roar building behind diem and turned to look. A wall of rushing water came thundering toward them, filling the tunnel from floor to ceiling. For a moment Valentine thought it was the illusion again, a last-ditch defense by the espers, but even as he thought that he knew it had to be genuine. All those espers were dead or blocked by now. The water was real. And up on the viewscreens, the pounding wave smashed into the guards and swept diem away. They never stood a chance.

Valentine moved back to stand with Evangeline and Hood, and watched the guards die on the screens. The water carried them along like leaves in a flooded drain, hammering them against the sides of the tunnels, and then pulling them on. A few tried to grab at the tunnel supports, but the pressure of the water was too much for them, and there was no air anywhere. They drowned, quickly if they were lucky, and their dead bodies bobbed limply in the surging tide. David and Kit cut down the last of their opponents, then looked around, confused, for more. David was panting and shaking as he fell out of boost, but his face was full of exhilaration. Kid Death was smiling gently, not even breathing heavily. But they both had the same look in their eyes, the same satisfied pleasure, and they saw it in each other like a secret shared. One of the Stevie Blues whooped with joy, and the other two joined in.

"The esp-blockers have been destroyed or swept away!" said Stevie One. "I can't feel diem anymore. We're safe!"

"Not necessarily," said Valentine in a surprisingly even voice. He pointed at the viewscreens. "All that water is heading our way, and there's nothing here to stop it."

They all saw it on the screens and backed away from the entrances. The pounding of the water was louder now, like a never-ending roll of thunder, and they could feel the pressure of its coming on the air, its awful weight vibrating through the chamber floor. On the viewscreens, dead guards tumbled through the rushing water like so many blank-eyed dolls. Everyone backed away from the entrances, coming together in the middle of the chamber, because there was nowhere else to go. They watched their death coming on the screens, and no one had anything to say. The Stevie Blues held hands, and Evangeline held Valentine's arm. He smiled briefly and let her.

Then the tidal wave slammed into an invisible barrier and fell back, thwarted. The water churned on the viewscreens, pounding this way and that, but couldn't enter the chamber. The air shimmered, and the esper representatives were suddenly back in the chamber. Mr. Perfect smiled at their surprise.

"You didn't really think we'd just abandon you, did you? We set up the flood from the sewers after Burgess' confession. It seemed a reasonable precaution, just in case."

"If I wasn't feeling so good, I'd kill every damn one of you," said David. "And I might anyway, on general principles."

"Damn right," said Kit. "I must have aged twenty years in the past few minutes. Mind you, on me it looks good."

The two men laughed together companionably. The Stevie Blues were laughing, too. Evangeline noticed she was still holding Valentine's arm and let go. He bowed to her courteously. Hood was slowly shaking his head.

"You'd think by now I'd be used to espers and their devious ways," he said tiredly. "I assume you have some way of draining the water out of the tunnels, so we can leave?"

"Of course," said the dragon. "It shouldn't take long, and then you can all go."

"I should be careful where you tread, though," said Valentine Wolfe. "You never know what you'll find in the water these days."