Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

crushed.
    My troops took holocameras down with them. People all over the Empire are watching the invasion of Virimonde live. The Empress intends for this to be an example. I'm sorry. I can offer some protection to your friend, the SummerIsle, if you wish. I have no direct orders for his death. I give you my word…"
    "I'll think about it," said Kit.
    The General nodded slowly. "Don't think too long, my lord."
    David smiled tiredly at the General. "Then I don't suppose we have anything left to say to each other, do we, Shaw? Destiny has shaped a path for both of us, and all we can do is follow them to their ends. Pardon me if I don't wish you good luck."
    "Understood, my lord." General Beckett saluted him. "Die well, Deathstalker."
    His face disappeared from the viewscreen and Kit shut it off. He looked at David. "Lie down again. Get some rest. You've got to think of a way out of this for us. You're the brains in this partnership, remember?"
    "He was right, Kit. You don't have to stay here."
    "Yes I do."
    They smiled at each other. David put out a hand to Kit. The SummerIsle took it
    in both of his, and grasped it tightly. The Deathstalker's hand was clammy, and cold as death. David lay back on the bed again, with Kit's help. The whole of his side was soaked in blood now. Kit still held his hand. There was a commotion outside. Kit let go of David's hand, and went over to look out the window.
    Outside the main gate, the Steward had returned with his men and a small army of Imperial troops, led by the Lord High Dram, and Captain Silence and Investigator Frost.
    Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn ran down a narrow street, the buildings burning to either side like giant balefires under the blood-streaked sky. The air was thick with dirty black smoke and floating cinders, and so hot it burned their bare hands and faces. Flynn's camera bobbed along above them, getting the best shots it could, and transmitting them live. High above, Imperial warships rained down destruction, energy beams from ranked disrupter cannon blowing buildings apart and collapsing streets. People were running everywhere, all with some kind of weapon in their hands. Toby had given up trying to keep track of where he was. One burning town looked much like another. And everywhere he went, he had to step over the dead. Men, women, and children lay in anonymous, blood-soaked bundles, cut down and hacked apart, or burning from the touch of an energy beam. Toby had never seen slaughter like it. Lionstone must have gone insane. This had gone far beyond punishment for rebellion, or an example to discourage others. Nothing could justify human butchery like this. It occurred to him now and again that he must be getting really good coverage. No one had ever filmed an invasion from this close before. He just hoped someone was watching. He wouldn't put it past the Empire ships to jam all signals but their own. Toby scowled as he ran, despite his tiredness. He hated to think this was
    all for nothing.
    He never saw the explosion that took out the building beside him. All he knew was that there was a sound like thunder, and then something picked him up and threw him down the street. He hit the cobbled ground hard, his clothes tearing, and then he tried to protect his head with his arms, as shattered brickwork came tumbling down around him. Bricks bounced off his back and arms and legs and he cried out, his voice lost in the roar of destruction around him. Finally it stopped, and Toby cautiously raised his head and looked about him. Half the street was in ruins. Flynn lay not far away, his camera hovering over him. The cameraman was half-buried under collapsed brickwork. Toby forced himself back onto his feet and staggered over to Flynn. His ears were ringing, his hands were trembling, and his legs felt like they belonged to someone else, but he fought it all back as he bent over Flynn. Oh God, don't be dead, Flynn. Please don't be dead. I didn't bring you here to die. He found a pulse in Flynn's neck and relaxed a little. He started pulling the bricks away, one at a time. There seemed to be no end to them.
    He'd barely made a start when a company of Imperial marines came trotting down the street, guns at the ready. The Sergeant saw Toby and turned his gun in his direction. Toby stuck both his arms in the air.
    "Don't shoot! I'm a reporter, covering the invasion!"
    The Sergeant sniffed disappointedly and gestured for his men to lower their guns and come to a stop. He