Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

"I ;tm Ozymandius, at your service. How may I help you?"
    "Tell me about Owen Deathstalker."
    "Head of the Deathstalker Clan, and Lord of Virimonde, until his outlawing. A good man, within his limitations. You can trust him to do what he feels is right."

    "That's rather vague."
    "That's Owen for you. He's never been a very positive person. Something of an underachiever, in fact. I have hopes the current emergency will bring out the best in him. If he doesn't get horribly killed first."
    Hazel was about to say something rather cutting when the cylinder suddenly started to open, and she had to stand up quickly to avoid being thrown off. The sudden movement made her feel giddy for a moment, but she had it back under control before Owen could notice. He stood before her and struck a jaunty pose, and she had to admit he was looking a hell of a lot better. His injuries had healed with no trace of scars, and he had a new confidence in his bearing. Even his clothes had been cleaned and repaired. He smiled cheerfully at her reaction.
    "I told you; this yacht has everything you can think of, and a few things you never dreamed of. Climb in, and the machine'll take care of you, too."
    Hazel wasn't at all sure she liked the way he'd put that, but she didn't really have any choice, and she knew it. The shock that had protected her from the worst of her burns had worn off long ago. Every movement was agony now, and she was hovering on the edge of total exhaustion. She couldn't argue anymore, and anyway, sooner or later she was going to have to trust the Deathstalker. Even if he was a Lord. She nodded stiffly to Owen and stepped clumsily into the cylinder. She lay down and gave herself up to fate with something like relief.
    She shut her eyes as the cylinder closed over her.
    "Do you want me to make any changes in the young lady?" said the AI diffidently.
    Owen frowned. "How do you mean changes?"
    "Well, there are several programs I can run while she's in the cylinder that would make her more… tractable. Programs to make her loyal to you, for example,
    and prevent her from raising any weapon against you. They're quite safe and would do her no lasting damage. It's simply a matter of security, Owen. She is an outlaw, after all."
    "So am I," said Owen. "You leave her mind alone. That's an order."
    "Yes, Owen. As you wish."
    Owen wasn't sure why he was so angry. The computer was programmed to look after his best interests. It was just doing its job. But Hazel had risked her life to save his for no profit that he could see. No one had ever done that for him before who didn't have to, and he wasn't sure yet how he felt about that. Until he was sure, Hazel d'Ark was under his protection. Even from himself, if necessary.
    "Anything new on the sensors?" he said finally.
    "Nothing so far. Your plunging into a lake has confused the hell out of them.
    I'm picking up all kinds of unprotected transmissions. Some think it was desperation, others are suggesting suicide. Right now they're arguing about whether to wait for you to reemerge, or go in after you."
    "Let me know when they make up their minds." Owen stretched slowly. The cylinder had repaired all his physical hurts, but he was still mentally exhausted. "I still can't believe everything fell apart so fast. I seem to have gone through the only experience left for the man who has everything: losing it all. This has to be some kind of ghastly mistake. I've done nothing to be outlawed for."
    "Perhaps," said the AI, "if you were to surrender yourself, and offer to hand over Miss d'Ark as a sign of good faith…"
    "No. I don't want to hear that kind of idea from you again. Besides, I already thought of that, and it wouldn't work. They'd just take her and kill me anyway.
    Is the ship ready to go yet?"

    "Yes, Owen. Ready for takeoff."
    The cylinder opened, and Hazel emerged like a rather bedraggled butterfly from its cocoon. Her overalls had been repaired and looked cleaner than Owen would have thought possible. She allowed Owen to help her out, studying her now flawless skin with awe. "I know people who would pay a medium-sized fortune for access to something like this."
    "If we find ourselves dangerously short of money, perhaps you can set up a deal," said Owen, smiling. "Now, if you'd like to join me in the main compartment, I think it's time we got the hell out of here. Once we're up and moving, there's nothing on this planet that can catch us. Oz, take us up, and don't stop for anything