Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker

life on the run, one way or another, and people can always tell when the pressure's on you. That's when accommodation suddenly gets scarce, friends turn their back on you and the price of everything goes through the roof." He broke off to take another drink from his flask. He pulled a face and screwed the cap back on tight. "I can remember when I wouldn't have used booze like this to clean my boots with. Amazing what you can get used to when you've no choice. I can remember when I drank only the finest vintages, the fiercest brandies, sparkling champagnes… Of course, that was when I was somebody. When it mattered
    who I was."
    "Are you saying you really are Jack Ransom?" said Owen, not even trying to hide his skepticism.
    "I used to be. Now I'm Jobe Ironhand. Named myself after an old friend of mine.
    He died a long time ago, without any heir to carry on the name, so I thought he wouldn't mind if I used it. You have to be respectful of the dead. There's enough ghosts plaguing me already without adding more." He stopped and looked up at Moon. "I don't remember you. I've led too many armies, too many campaigns.
    Cold Rock was a bad one, though. In the end, most of my people were wiped out by Imperial attack ships, and I only escaped by running for my life. I did a lot of running at the end, but they still caught me."
    He stopped again, his eyes lost in yesterday. Owen leaned forward. "They caught you? What happened?"
    "They broke me," said the man who used to be Jack Random. "Torture, drugs, mind techs, espers… anyone'll break if you hit them hard enough and long enough. And I was so very tired by then anyway…"
    "So how did you escape?" said Hazel.
    "I didn't. The Empire was getting ready for a major show trial to show off my supposed change of heart. Stand me up in front of the holo cameras and have me denounce all my old friends and beliefs. You know the sort of thing. I would have done it, too. They'd broken me. Luckily some friends in the clone underground who hadn't given up on me broke into my holding cell and sprang me.
    They shouldn't have done it. Too many good men and women died that day just to rescue a defeated old man with no strength or ideals left. They got me on a ship under an assumed name, and eventually I ended up here, where everyone runs when there's no place left to go. So if you've come looking for the great warrior,
    the legendary professional rebel, you're wasting your time. He died years ago in the torture cells under the Imperial Palace on Golgotha.
    "Look at me. I'm forty-seven and I look twice that. My hands shake most of the time because my body still remembers what was done to it in the cells, and my memories are a mess. The mind techs really did a job on me. So go look somewhere else for your savior or leader, or whatever the hell you think you need. I'm not who you want, and even if I was, I'd be no use to you."
    "Do you have any evidence of who you are?" said Owen. "Any old trophies or mementos from your past?"
    "No. Move fast, travel light, that was always my way. And I don't care whether you believe me or not. Do us all a favor and leave me in peace."
    Owen looked at the man before him and felt an almost childish disappointment.
    His father had brought him up on stories of the great rebel Jack Random. When Owen was older, he'd started his career as a historian by searching out the truth on Random, only to find the truth was even more impressive than the legend. Random had done pretty much everything they said he had, and more besides. He'd fought the Empire on a hundred worlds, winning some, losing more, never giving up. Of all his father's dubious friends and associates, Jack Random was the only one Owen had ever respected.
    "Do you remember my father?" he said suddenly. "My name is Owen Deathstalker."
    "Yes. I remember him. Good fighter, and a cunning intriguer." Random looked at him steadily. "Since you're here, I gather he'd dead now?"
    "Yes. Killed in the streets, cut down as a traitor. I'm the Deathstalker now. Or at least, until the Empire catches up with me. I'm outlawed, my name and possessions stripped from me."

    Random looked at him thoughtfully. "Do you have your father's ring? He always said it was important, though he never got around to explaining why. He never was very big on explanations, your father."
    "I've got the ring. As far as I can tell, it's just a ring."
    He showed it to Random, who looked at it for a moment and then sat back on his cot. His fingers