Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

everywhere he looked: the loot and splendor of the Empire, all stuffed into one room with hardly any space to breathe. Lionstone liked to surround herself with beautiful things: the trophies of her rule. She also used to keep the mummified heads of her enemies on a row of spikes, until Dram talked her out of it on health grounds.
    And everywhere drinks and drugs and sweet things for every palate. In private,
    Lionstone was something of a pig.
    She was sitting in a grand chair carved from the shimmering metal of one of the living metallic trees on Unseeli, watching new weapons trials on a wallscreen.
    She seemed utterly intent on the orchestrated mayhem, and didn't spare him so much as a glance. Dram moved over to stand beside her, and the maids crouched at her feet stirred uneasily. It was programmed into them that he was the only man permitted near the Empress, but they didn't like it. He looked them over dispassionately, spotting several new faces replacing those who'd died during the elf attack on the court. He wondered briefly what new enemies Lionstone had made by snatching these young girls from their Families and burning everything out of their minds except the need to defend the Empress. Dram occasionally wondered if he might end up the same someday. A mindless stud, living only to please his mistress. It wasn't a comforting thought. He decided to look at the viewscreen instead.
    Battle machines and combat androids clashed together on a deserted plain beneath a bloodred sun. Two vast armies of mechanical creatures, beyond pain or glory or fear slammed together again and again, metal arms and steel jaws grating against each other in showers of sparks. Some were as small as insects, some had the shape of men, and some were vast assemblages too large for the mind of man to easily assimilate. They fought with inhuman ferocity because that was what they had been designed to do. Sharp hooks tore into metal sides and out again, and straining arms pulled at yielding structures. There were metal heads with glowing eyes, skeletal frames with barbed flails, and rising above it all the roar of mighty engines and rending steel. They fought until they were too damaged to continue, and then the victors ground the losers underfoot as they
    surged on in search of new prey. No one grieved for the fallen or cheered the survivors. There was no emotion in the endless carnage, only machines in conflict, in search of efficiency.
    Dram watched them fight, and his blood ran cold. A human army could expect no mercy or compassion from such a foe, no shared concepts of honor or glory. They would just keep coming, irregardless of casualties, uncaring of losses, blindly following orders. And human flesh would tear so easily under spiked metal hands.
    Which was why they were created and tested and eventually put to work. Because they were so good at the ancient art of butchery.
    Somewhere, computers were following everything, determining which machines were the most efficient and lasted the longest, and why. And from their deliberations would rise the next generation of war machines to be sent out against the Empire's enemies in the name of humanity. Dram stole a glance at Lionstone. She was enjoying the show. The Empress had always been a great believer in technology as the answer to her problems. Dram had to admit she had a point.
    Machines might not be as versatile as marines, augmented men or battle espers, but within their limitations, they followed orders unswervingly and got the job done. Especially on planets where men couldn't survive without extensive technological support. In the end, the observing computers would decide which designs would be continued and refined, and which scrapped, but Lionstone liked to have her input, too. War was too important to be left just to the machines.
    "Very impressive," Dram said finally.
    "I should hope so," said Lionstone, without looking away from the screen.
    "Considering what these latest efforts cost me, a good show is the least I can expect from them. And I'm glad you're impressed, because I'm not. They're destructive enough, but I was hoping for more. More sophistication. But you
    always have to draw a careful line when it comes to designing cybernetics. Make them too smart, and you end up with something that'll make a run for Shub. Too dumb, and the simplest foot soldier can run rings around them. The only way to get the balance right is to keep experimenting, and that's expensive. You