Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

head of port Security, I have access to all drugs seized from incoming ships. No one will miss a few drops." He paused. "Are you sure about this, Hazel?"
    "Oh yes. I have to have something in my life I can depend on."

    Young Jack Random strode unhurriedly through the streets of Mistport, and no one bothered him. There was something in his unyielding stance and cold confidence that persuaded people to keep their distance. That, and the energy gun he wore openly on his hip. Only the real movers and shakers in Mistport had access to energy guns. Random made his way into Merchants Quarter, in search of an old friend. Councillor Donald Royal had been one of Mistport's greatest heroes in his younger days, and was an influential figure even now, in the autumn of his life.
    Random finally came to a halt before a soot-blackened old building in a part of the Quarter that had definitely known better days. Donald Royal could have afforded to live practically anywhere he chose in the city, but this had always been his home, and he wouldn't move. Stubborn old man. Random stepped forward and knocked politely on the door. There was a long pause, and then he sensed he was being studied through a spyhole. He smiled charmingly at the door, and kept his hands well away from his weapons. The door swung open to reveal a striking young woman. As far as Random knew, she was a complete stranger, but he kept his smile going anyway. She was tall for a woman, with a tousled head of reddish-brown hair, falling in great curls to her shoulders. Her face was a little too broad to be pretty, but her strong bone structure gave her a harsh, sensual look. She held herself like a fighter, with a cold steady gaze and a mouth that gave away nothing. Her clothing was strictly functional, but well cut, and she carried an energy gun holstered on her hip. Random noted that her hand was resting on her belt next to the gun and cleared his throat politely.
    "Good evening. I'm looking for Donald Royal. I understood he was still living here."

    "He's here, but I don't know if he wants to be bothered right now. I'm his partner. I don't let people bother him without a good reason."
    "I'm Jack Random. I've come to talk to him about planning the new rebellion against the Empire."
    The woman smiled suddenly, and her eyes warmed. "That's… a good reason. I'm Madelaine Skye. Come on in. Pardon my caution, but we don't get many legends around here."
    She stepped back, and Random bowed politely before moving past her into a narrow, gloomy hall. He hung up his coat and his sword belt without having to be asked and allowed Skye to lead him down the hall and into a cosy sitting room.
    Oil lamps provided the only light, suffusing the room with a soft buttery glow.
    Thick leather-bound books lined three walls, the last wall being covered by a display of well-used bladed weapons, from slender daggers up to a huge double-headed ax. Below them lay a large fire, crackling contentedly in its grate, surmounted by an elaborate mantelpiece of dark wood, carved into blocky Gothic shapes. On top of the mantelpiece, a large clock was set into the belly of a carved wooden dog with an ugly face. Its eyes and lolling red tongue moved to and fro as it ticked. Sitting beside the fire in a large padded armchair was an old man with vague eyes. He'd been a large man once, but the great muscles that had packed his frame in his youth had slowly wasted away down the years, and now his clothes hung loosely about him. Long strands of wispy white hair hung down about a gaunt, bony face. Madelaine Skye stood beside the chair, hovering protectively close.
    "We have a visitor, Donald."
    "I can see that, woman. I'm not blind yet. Or senile. I assume he's someone important, or you'd have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear." He looked
    at Random for a long moment, and then frowned. "I know you from somewhere. Never forget a face." And then his gaze cleared, and he rose suddenly out of his chair. "Dear God, it can't be. Jack? Is that you, Jack? Damn me, it is." He grinned broadly and reached out to take Random's proffered hand in both of his, the large wrinkled hands enveloping Random's. "Jack Random, as I live and breathe! What the hell are you doing here?"
    "Looking up old friends," said Random, smiling. "Been a long time, Donald."
    "You can say that again. Too damned long. Sit down, sit down, and let me take a look at you."
    Random pulled up the armchair on the other side of the fire and sat