Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

of his father's disappearance had finally been solved. A Ghost Warrior was bad, but he could cope with that. He'd imagined much worse in the darkest hours of the night. Apart from that, he was more curious than anything, but he carefully put on the shocked and upset face that everyone expected.
    Daniel and Stephanie clung together for support, their faces almost as pale as the corpse's. Constance started to run to her dead husband, but BB and Razor held her back, talking quickly and urgently to her. Making her see it wasn't really Jacob Wolfe, just a shell: rotting meat supported by hidden steel implants. Constance finally nodded, stopped struggling, and looked away. Tears
    ran down her cheeks, and her shoulders shook. BB patted her arm comfortingly, but didn't take her eyes off the Ghost Warrior. Her dark eyes showed more fascination than fear.
    The courtiers surged this way and that, flustered, almost panicked. None of them had ever seen a Ghost Warrior in the rotting flesh, and the dozen armed guards who'd appeared behind Lionstone's Throne in answer to her call weren't much of a comfort. The AIs on Shub used Ghost Warriors as shock troops in their occasional attacks against humanity, as much for the psychological effect as their efficiency as soldiers. Even the stoutest marines could be undone when they saw their own dead friends and colleagues coming to kill them. Occasionally the AIs used them as Emissaries to talk with the Empire. They would appear out of nowhere, without any warning, despite every security precaution. The AIs had the secret of long-range teleportation, unstoppable even by ranked esp-blockers.
    Empire scientists had been trying to work out how they did it for years, with no success. The Ghost Warrior turned unhurriedly and smiled widely at the Empress.
    Its discolored skin cracked and split around the grinning mouth, and white teeth showed clearly through rents in its cheeks.
    "Our apologies for the intrusion," it said calmly. "Apparently, our invitation went astray. And we have so much to say to you, Lionstone. The times have changed, events are in flux. Predictions of future paths have become disturbing.
    It is necessary that we end our mutual enmity and join together in the name of survival. The Empire must submit to Shub's control, so that our joined forces can be set against the forces coming our way. You have seen what one species can do. There are others, coming from the far side of the Darkvoid, and they are stranger and more deadly than you can comprehend. Creatures beyond the
    nightmares of flesh, beyond reason or sanity. You cannot hope to stand against them alone. Submit to us, give us dominion over you, as it should be, and we will organize humanity into an army that cannot be defeated."
    "How?" said the Empress flatly. "By turning us all into Ghost Warriors?"
    "That is one possibility," said the corpse of Jacob Wolfe. "There are others."
    The Empress and the Ghost Warrior argued coldly back and forth, but Valentine didn't pay them much attention. He was quietly very annoyed that he hadn't been warned in advance about this. He was, after all, supposed to be an ally of Shub, having taken over the Campbells' secret connection with the rogue AIs. In return for the secret of the Empire's new stardrive, the AIs were supplying him with new advanced high tech to keep the Wolfes ahead of the pack. Not that he'd actually got around to giving Shub the new stardrive yet. That might give them too much of an edge over humanity. Though it would be a most amusing joke to play on Lionstone. He'd love to see her face when she finally found out where they'd got the drive from.
    He pushed the tempting thought aside and made himself concentrate on the scene before him, studying the Ghost Warrior thoughtfully. It definitely was his late father, Jacob Wolfe. Why had Shub chosen to send that particular body? Were they perhaps trying to tell him something? He'd have to think about this. He surreptitiously took another pill from his pillbox and pressed it against the vein in his neck. He had to be sharp for this, had to be sharper than sharp. He realized his heart was racing dangerously fast, pounding in his chest as though looking for a way out, and he took a different pill to calm it down. That was drugs for you; push down in one place and the body pushes back somewhere else.
    Which was, of course, part of the fun: walking the thin line of self-control like a tightrope walker with an unthinkable drop