Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

without extra equipment."
    "He's right," said Frost. "You're going to need a full company of marines, armed and shielded to the teeth, and someone extremely experienced to lead them."
    "All right. Investigator, you've made your point." Silence couldn't help smiling at her. "You can lead the away team this time. Make the necessary arrangements."
    "It's time to go," said Giles. "I've dropped the Standing's shields to divert the extra power to the takeoff. I never really thought I'd leave this planet
    again, but I hoped. There's always hope."
    "How far is it to your ship?" Owen said quickly. He had a horrible suspicion his ancestor was about to get all sentimental on him, and he didn't think he could cope with that just at the moment. "It better not be too far. With your shields down, we're a sitting target for the starcruiser up above."
    "It's not far," said Giles, smiling slightly. "Not far at all. Computers, begin liftoff procedures."
    Owen looked blankly at his ancestor as the room began to shake and rumble around him. Far below, under his feet, he could hear the building roar of mighty engines. "Wait a minute. Wait just a damn minute! Your ship is part of the Standing? We're in it now?"
    "Not part," said Giles. "The Standing is the ship. And vice versa."
    "We're going into hyperspace in a stone castle that's been sitting around for nine centuries?"
    "We built to last in my day," said Giles. "Talk to your computer if you want more details."
    "Oz? Are you still there? Talk to me!"
    "Yes, I'm still here, and you wouldn't believe how cramped it is. Some of these systems are positively prehistory. I can't believe I'm supposed to live in something this small. There isn't room to swing a neuron."
    "Talk to me about the castle, Oz, or I swear I'll reprogram you with a blunt spoon. Is it really a starship?"
    "Ob, yes. A bit slow and stately, but it'll get you there. Hang on to your hat, Owen; it's going to be rather a bumpy takeoff."
    On the bridge of the Dauntless, Silence and Frost watched speechlessly as the Last Standing of the Deathstalker Clan tore itself out of the ground and leapt
    up into the air. Powerful energies roared around it. The jungle was flattened for miles around by the backblast, but the castle rose into the air as smoothly as any starship.
    "I don't believe it," said Frost. "A stone starship?"
    "We've lost contact with the away team, Captain," said the surveillance officer.
    "Gunnery officer, open fire," said Silence. "Blow that thing to rubble."
    "We can't, Captain. It's got one of the most powerful force shields I've ever seen. We don't have anything that'll breech it."
    "Fire on it anyway!" said Silence. "It's got to have a weak spot!"
    "I wouldn't put money on it," said Frost.
    And then the castle shimmered and was gone into hyperspace, and there was nothing left to look at on the viewscreen but space.
    "Damn," said Silence.
    "Yeah," said Frost. "The Empress is not going to be pleased, is she?"
    Silence sat back in his command chair and made himself think calmly. "They might think they've gotten away, but it's not over yet. After all, we know where they're going."

Chapter 12
    Down in Wormboy Hell
    Finlay Campbell fled for his life, hunted and harried, and the pack came after him, snapping at his heels. He was the Campbell now, last scion of a butchered line, and the Wolfes came after him, merciless and determined. He guided the stolen gravity sled between the narrow towers of the city center, whipping past mirrored windows at incredible speeds. Adrienne lay on the deck behind him, awash with blood, curled around the wide awful wound in her gut that was slowly
    killing her. The rushing wind blew tears from Finlay's eyes, and he wished he'd taken the time to steal some goggles along with the sled, but there'd been no time, no time at all.
    It had been a long time since he'd last flown a gravity sled, but old memories and skills were already coming back. He grinned fiercely and slammed the craft back and forth between the towers like a raftsman dodging rocks in the rapids, squeezing every last ounce of speed he could from the straining engines. The Wolfes stuck close behind him on seven craft, baying for his blood. The occasional disrupter blast scorched past him, but at this speed the sudden twisting turns of the sleds made aiming impossible. They kept firing, though.
    They only had to get lucky once. Finlay snarled soundlessly, his mind working frantically for some way out, some means of escape