Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

he knew its secrets. The effects were only temporary.
    To remain an esper, you had to keep taking the drug. And though the drug itself wasn't addictive, being an esper was. Anyone who'd experienced it, even for a
    short while, would do anything necessary to be an esper again. To be whole again. He controlled production and distribution of the drug, which meant he controlled anyone who took it. Forever. The thought pleased him, and he laughed softly. The clones would take the drug eagerly to begin with, because they trusted him, trusted Hood, the tried and true backer and supporter of the underground. And by the time they discovered the truth, it would be far too late.
    Of course, the twenty to forty percent death rate was a problem. He'd have to do something about that. He deplored waste.
    He'd only taken a minor dose himself. The more powerful the dosage, the higher the death rate. Once your body had adapted to the drug, you were safe enough, but the initial dose was always a risk. So, being sensible as well as ambitious, he'd settled for a minor dose. It meant only limited esper abilities, but he could live with that. He'd save the larger doses for his clone volunteers. He was interested in seeing what abilities the larger doses would produce, but he could wait. He was patient. There was always the chance large doses would produce battle espers, like the Stevie Blues. Given an army of those, he'd face any enemy. Augmented and adjusted men were the past; esp was the future.
    It was a pity the tests on clone espers had been terminated. They'd been producing very interesting results, under his indirect control, until the Empress found out about them and had them shut down. That had been her agents at work again, and only some quick thinking on his feet had kept his connections from coming out. That wasn't going to happen again. The esper drug was his one weapon against all the Empress' power and influence. Unless, of course, she already knew about it. Which was a possibility. You could never be sure exactly what the Empress did and didn't know. Except that if she had known what he
    planned and intended, she'd have had him killed by now.
    "Talk to me, Argus," he said finally, and sank back in his chair with his eyes closed as his personal AI brought him up to date on everything that had happened in his absence. Dram had many enemies, most of whom knew where he lived, and he relied on the AI's unsleeping vigilance to protect his quarters while he was away.
    "Everything is under control, sir. I dealt with all the routine matters in your absence, using your face and voice, and made a number of entries in your diary.
    Do try and read it sometime, sir; I don't make these appointments for fun. It would appear you're still remarkably popular with the populace, according to your mail, proving once again that there is no allowing for taste. Requests for help or money are up, proposals of marriage slightly down. The Company of Lords still hates your guts. They sent a number of professional people to booby-trap your apartment while you were out. I let them get on with it rather than use emergency measures. It takes such a long time to clean the blood off the walls afterward. Once they were gone, I went around and disarmed everything. They're getting pretty ingenious, you know. Every time this happens, I find something new."
    "Are you sure you got everything?"
    "Reasonably sure."
    "What doesn't that mean?"
    "Ii means if I have got it wrong, at least you won't be around to say I told you so."
    Dram laughed in spite of himself. He allowed the AI to be rude on occasion. He felt it was good for his character.

    "Someone wishes to talk to you, sir."
    "I don't feel like talking to anyone right now. You deal with it."
    "It's the Empress, sir."
    "Why the hell didn't you say so?" Dram sat up straight in his chair, immediately wide awake again. "Never mind. Put her on."
    The wall to his left became one large viewscreen, filled with the Empress Lionstone's arctic features. She looked… thoughtful. Dram didn't like the look of that. Lionstone was never more dangerous than when she'd been thinking. He stood up, bowed respectfully, and smiled warmly into the chill of her blue eyes.
    "Lionstone, my dear. An unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?"
    "Come to my private quarters. Now. There's something we need to discuss."
    Dram started to frame a polite and reassuring reply, but the wall had already gone blank. He scowled thoughtfully as he