Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

the control tower, Ozymandius. Hello, Mistport central. This is the Sunstrider, looking for sanctuary. Please acknowledge."
    "This is duty esper John Silver," said a tired voice from the comm panels.
    "Don't adjust your systems, we've lost visual again. I need a full rundown on your crew, cargo and last planetfall. Don't bother lying; our espers will get it out of you anyway."
    "John?" said Hazel, smiling suddenly. "Is that you, Silver, you old pirate?
    You're the last voice I was expecting. This is Hazel d'Ark. Remember, we worked together on the Angel of Night swindle."
    "The good God preserve and save us," said the voice, sounding a little more animated. "Hazel bloody d'Ark. I always knew you'd be back someday, no doubt dragging a long trail of creditors behind you. Who have you got mad at you this time?"
    "Practically everyone. Look, John, I need a favor."
    "You always do. What is it this time?"
    "I can't afford to hang around in quarantine. Too many people looking for me and this ship. I need to go to ground for a while. Will you vouch for me?"
    "Depends. Are you alone?"
    "One passenger, and I vouch for him."
    "That's not much of a recommendation. I have a strong feeling I'm going to regret this, but all right. Put your ship down on pad seven, and then disappear into the mists. I can only buy you twenty-four hours, though."
    "That should be enough. Thanks, John. How the hell did a died-in-the-blood pirate like you end up in security?"

    Silver chuckled briefly. "Times are hard, girl, and Mistport needed all the espers it could get. Things have gone to hell since you were last here. Empire hit us with something really nasty. Over half our espers are dead or mindburned.
    As a result, security is tighter than ever, but with nowhere near enough people to enforce it. Look me up when you've got a chance. Unless you're still trouble, in which case I never heard of you. Silver out."
    "Now that was a stroke of luck," said Owen, and then stopped as he saw the expression on Hazel's face. "Wasn't it?"
    "I don't know. Maybe. The John Silver I knew was an ex-pirate and a confidence trickster. And now he's in charge of Mistport security? Things must have really gone to the dogs since I was last here. And we're not out of the woods yet.
    We've got twenty-four hours, and then either I report in with a lot of convincing answers, or Silver's people will tear the city apart looking for us.
    On top of that, we have to use that time to find a buyer for Sunstrider before someone recognizes it. You can bet every Imperial agent on Mistworld has a detailed description of it and you by now. Which means we have twenty-four hours to make the sale, bank the money, and then go to ground so thoroughly that even the really talented and highly motivated people looking for us won't be able to find us. Once things have quieted down a little, we can reappear with new names and backgrounds and a hell of a lot of money to back us up."
    "Why can't we just change our looks in a body shop?" said Owen.
    Hazel gave him the kind of look a tutor gives a dull but persistent pupil. Owen was getting rather tired of that look, but kept his temper.
    "Remember what I said about limited high tech on this world? The only tech they've got here is what smugglers can sneak past the Empire. I'm not saying there isn't a body shop somewhere in Mistport, but if there is you can bet it's
    the only one, and so exclusive that they charge an arm and a leg. Possibly literally. Which means it'll be watched night and day by Imperial agents, just in case we're stupid enough to go anywhere near it. Try and keep up, Deathstalker. I can't carry you all the way. And before you start sulking again, could you perhaps put a little thought toward raising some stake money? I've got a little credit stashed away here and there in Mistport, but not a lot. I had to earn it the hard way."
    "Really?" said Owen. "How?"
    "You don't need to know. Ozymandius? Are we cleared to land?"
    "As soon as we pay a rather exorbitant docking fee, yes."
    Owen asked how much. The AI told him, and Owen nearly had a fit. "I'm not paying that! It's extortionate!"
    "Not really," said Hazel. "Not when you consider how much more they could make by handing you over to the Empire. Besides, you're not paying it, I'm going to have to. And just for the record, no, this is not coming out of my ten percent."
    Ozymandius cleared its throat politely, something that never failed to disconcert Owen, not least because the AI