Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

Owen and Tobias Moon went after her. Owen strode along, looking at nothing, lost in thought. Events might be rushing him, but he still had his doubts and suspicions. What were the odds of a Hadenman turning up out of the blue just at the right moment to save his ass? Much more likely Moon had been following them for some time, waiting for a chance to look good and gain their confidence. But what made him so important to Moon, if it wasn't the price on his head? Surely there must have been some other ship Moon could have persuaded to get him offplanet. And for someone who claimed not to know the coordinates of Haden, he seemed pretty sure of finding the planet in the not too distant future. Owen scowled. And where did all this tie in with his late father's plot and plans, which had brought him to Mistworld in the first place?
    More and more Owen was sure there were wheels within wheels, unseen forces subtly guiding him from the wings, the very things he'd spent most of his life
    trying to avoid. But if that was so, he had a few surprises in store for whoever was jerking his strings. If push came to shove, he could play that game, too. He was a Death stalker, and intrigue was in his blood. In the meantime… he decided to concentrate on the Hadenman. Did he, or his people, still have a private, hidden agenda? When awakened, would the army of augmented men really join with him, or could they secretly be intending to ally themselves with the rogue AIs on Shub, as the Empress had claimed so often in the past? Owen smiled briefly.
    He had no answers, or none he could trust, so for the moment he'd go along with Moon. And sleep with one eye open. He moved up alongside Hazel, and she nodded briefly.
    "Yeah, I don't trust him either," she said quietly. "But I'd rather have him on our side than working against us. At least this way we can keep an eye on him."
    "What do you suggest we do in the meantime?" said Owen.
    "Trust no one. Think you can remember that?"
    "You've never been to court, have you?" said Owen. "As an aristocrat, I learned to trust no one from a very early age.
    Among the Families, you learn intrigue with your letters and numbers, or you don't survive to reach adulthood."
    "Sounds a lot like Mistworld," said Hazel, and they both had to laugh. The Hadenman strode silently along behind them and kept his thoughts to himself.
    The Olympus spa wasn't far, just the other side of Merchants' Quarter, but the walk was still far enough to chill Owen to the bone. Despite his confident words to Hazel, his wounds had taken a lot more out of him than he was willing to admit. He trudged along through the slush and the thickening mists and muttered direly to himself. He'd been on Mistworld nearly a whole day, and he still hadn't had one glimpse of the sun.

    The spa, when they finally got there, didn't exactly make up for the long walk.
    It was trying desperately to look upmarket, but the neighborhood was against it.
    It was still an improvement over most of the places Hazel had led him to so far, but Owen couldn't say he was particularly impressed. The stone and timber buildings had clearly all seen better days, and the bare brickwork had been stained a varying gray from the continuous smoke of a nearby factory. The Olympus storefront was wide and brightly painted, and the name above the door was set out in letters so stylized and convoluted it was almost impossible to make them out. There were no windows, but tall plaques described the many wonders to be found inside, together with a series of claims for potential weight loss and muscle building that bordered on the miraculous. Owen gave the place a long, stern look, but it remained stubbornly unimpressive.
    "I am not impressed," said Hazel.
    "Give it a chance," said Owen automatically. "This is only the exterior. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to judge a place by its exterior?"
    "She also told me to avoid outlaws, aristos and sucker joints. Can't say I'm doing too well on any of them. You really think we're going to find Jack Random in a dump like this? I mean, I'd heard he was down on his luck, but can you really see the legendary professional rebel running a cheap ripoff joint like this?"
    "It's probably a cover," said Owen stubbornly. "Who'd think to look for him here?"
    "He has a point," said Moon in his harsh, buzzing voice, and they both jumped slightly. "I wouldn't be seen dismantled in a place like this."
    "The Abraxus people said we'd find him here," said