Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

larger shapes were disturbing, as though trying to lead the human eye somewhere it couldn't or wouldn't follow.
    Owen settled himself as comfortably as he could on the unyielding steel deck, and hugged his knees to his chest. The ship intimidated the hell out of him, and he didn't care who knew it. He looked at Hazel, who was completely absorbed in what she was doing.
    A tall, lithely muscular woman in her early twenties, Hazel always looked as though she was about to explode into action at any moment. Green eyes peered challenging out at the world from under a mane of long ratty red hair, and her rare smiles came and went so quickly they were often missed.
    As usual, she'd loaded herself down with weapons. Her disrupter hung in its usual place on her right hip, in its well-worn leather holster. Standard energy pistol, powerful enough to blast through steel plate as long as the gun's energy crystal was fully charged. And provided you didn't mind waiting the two minutes it took for the crystal to recharge between shots. Her sword hung on her left hip, the chased metal scabbard stretched out across the deck. Standard sword, heavy enough to do real damage, without being so long it became unwieldy.
    Scattered across the desk before her were the component parts of her projectile weapon. Actually, there looked to be enough parts to make several weapons. Owen had no idea the things were so damn complicated.
    He had ambivalent feelings about the antiquated projectile weapons his ancestor
    Giles had provided from the Last Standing's armory. They weren't nearly as powerful or as accurate as energy weapons, but when they were pumping out several hundred bullets a minute on full auto, they didn't really need to be.
    There was none of that waiting for two minutes between each shot nonsense with them, either. Hazel had all but fallen in love with the new (or more strictly speaking old) type of weapons, and sang their praises at every opportunity.
    She'd taken to carrying several of the guns and enough ammunition to bulge every pocket she had.
    Owen remained unconvinced, as yet. He carried a projectile weapon of his own as well as his disrupter, but he thought he'd wait and see how the gun performed in a continuous firefight before he made up his mind. Personally, he thought Hazel liked her new toys so much only because they had lots of separate pieces she could play with.
    And finally, when push came to shove, he still believed in cold steel as the answer to most problems. A sword had no parts to go wrong, never ran out of ammo, and didn't need to recharge for two minutes between use.
    "You keep squeezing it dry like that, you're going to flatten it," Hazel said casually. "Never known anyone spend so much time in a toilet. Check your guns again. It's very comforting."
    "No it isn't," said Owen. "There isn't a single comforting thing anywhere in this unnatural ship, and that very definitely includes you."
    "You never cease to amaze me, aristo. I've seen you fight appalling odds and go charging into situations I wouldn't tackle for all the credits in Golgotha's Treasury. You come from one of the greatest warrior Families in the Empire, but every time we have to wait around for a bit, you get jumpier than a nun at a
    dating agency."
    "I am not a warrior," said Owen determinedly, not looking at her. "I am an historian who is temporarily—and under extreme duress—being forced to act as a soldier of the rebellion. Personally, I can't wait for the rebellion to be over so I can go back to being a minor scholar again, of no importance to anyone but myself and with no pressures apart from the occasional symposium. I still don't see why I was volunteered for this mission."
    "Because it was your idea in the first place," said Hazel. "Serves you right for being a smart-ass. If anyone shouldn't be here, it's me. I'm still not convinced any of this is going to work."
    "Then, what are you doing here?"
    "Someone's got to watch your back. Besides, I was getting bored just sitting around back there. A complete lack of human comforts, far too much talking, and no action of any kind. I need to be doing something, or I get cranky."
    "I had noticed," Owen said dryly. "Trust me; the plan will work. It's been discussed from every angle and subjected to intense analysis. Even the Hadenmen liked it. This mission is just what we need to start the rebellion with a bang.
    Something to make the whole Empire sit up and take notice."
    "Oh, sure. They can all