Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

others.
    They were all firing now, energy bolts leaping from the disrupters built into their gloves, and dead bodies were blown apart and slapped aside, but still the hundreds of dead moved purposefully forward. Frost took up her place between Silence and Cross, too angry to be frightened or worried. She'd fought every kind of alien in her time, and thought there was nothing left in the Empire that could throw her, but something in the dead man's gaze had held her as securely as any chain. If Silence hadn't blown its head off, she'd have been standing there still, until the dead overwhelmed her and dragged her away to make her one of them. She had no doubt it had been Silence who freed her. She'd have done the same for him. She took a deep breath and settled herself.
    "Well," she made herself say calmly, "at least now we know what happened to the Champion's crew. Those bastard AIs somehow got their hands on them, scooped out their brains, and replaced them with their filthy computers. We've found a whole ship of Ghost Warriors."
    "Shub is right on the other side of the Empire," said Silence. "But we'll let that pass for the moment. It'll be another two minutes before our disrupters recharge, and I have a strong feeling these creeps could manage something really
    unpleasant in that time, so everyone free your swords and back away. We are getting the hell out of here."
    There was a muffled clang behind them as the elevator doors slammed shut.
    "That's not possible," said Frost. "I locked them open."
    "Someone's watching," said Cross. "And they don't want us leaving just yet."
    "I'll try the bridge," said Silence. "Maybe they can override. Bridge, this is Silence. Can you hear me?" There was no reply, only an ominous quiet.
    "Something's got to them," said Cross. "We're on our own."
    The dead men stood facing them, row upon row, inhumanly still. One figure stepped forward, wearing an outdated Captain's uniform. Silence tried to recognize Tomas Pearce, but the face before him held nothing of humanity in it.
    One eye was missing, replaced by a camera lens, and the scars of brutal surgery were clear on his forehead. He came to a halt before Silence, carefully out of a sword's range, smiling widely as though he knew what a smile was supposed to convey, but didn't know how. His kind weren't used for diplomacy or conversation. Ghost Warriors fought Shub's battles with humanity, as much for psychological effect as any functional superiority. The dead man wore a gun and a sword on his hips, but so far had made no move to draw them. Silence found that disturbing. It implied the Ghost Warriors wanted him alive. Pearce's lips moved, and Silence heard a slow, horribly impersonal voice through his comm implant. It was a machine talking—through a human mouth.
    "Captain Silence. Investigator Frost. You must come with us."
    "Why us?" said Silence.
    "Yeah," said Cross. "I feel left out."
    "You are different," said Pearce, his dead eyes still fixed on Silence and Frost. "Changed. It is necessary that we discover how."

    "Tough," said Frost. "We have other plans. Call our secretary and make an appointment. Captain, get those elevator doors open. I'll hold them off."
    She stepped forward, her sword held in both hands, and swung it around in a vicious sideways sweep with all her strength behind it. If it had connected, it would certainly have beheaded Pearce, but he raised his arms impossibly fast and blocked the blow. The blade sank deep into his arm and jarred on splintering bone. In the split second while Frost was still off balance, Pearce reached out with his other hand and snatched the sword out of her hand. Frost snarled and hit him in the throat with her armored glove. The hard suit's servomechanisms amplified the strength of her blow, and she could feel the sickening crunch as her fist crushed Pearce's throat and snapped his neck. His head hung at an angle, but the expression on his face didn't change. He threw her sword aside and reached out with both hands to grab her shoulders. She kicked his legs out from under him, and he fell sprawling on the steel floor. The other Ghost Warriors moved forward in an unhurried, implacable advance, and Frost knew there were just too many of them to be stopped by anything she could do.
    She checked the timer inside her helmet and opened up with her disrupters again.
    Energy blasts erupted from her gloves, slapping aside the advancing dead men like so many curling leaves caught in a fiery