Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

Empress's eye."
    Stevie One smiled. "Right."
    Stevie Three got them both on their feet, holding Stevie One up till her legs firmed. They looked around for other survivors, and saw Toby and Flynn looking up at them. Stevie Three smiled.
    "I might have known. Good men and women die, but reporters go on forever. Stay
    down, boys. This isn't your fight."
    "What are you going to do?" said Toby.
    Stevie Three looked at the door before her, and Toby knew she was seeing the enemy massed outside. When she spoke, her voice was almost calm, matter of fact.
    "Once there were four of us. Clones, sisters, lovers; a closer relationship than you can ever imagine. Two died, fighting the Empire that created them, and now it's our turn. We've always known we were born to burn. All that's left is one last gesture of defiance."
    "What are you going to do?" said Toby. "What can you do?"
    "Die well," said Stevie One, and Stevie Three nodded.
    "Sometimes, that's all there is."
    "No," said Toby, his voice roughened by unfamiliar emotions. "There's got to be another way. There's always another way."
    "No," said Stevie Three, almost kindly. "Not always. Every road comes to its end eventually. Get your camera ready. We're going out."
    She hauled her sister over to the door, carefully undid the locks, and pulled back the bolts one by one. Flynn's camera rose from his shoulder to get a better view. Stevie Three yanked the door open and slammed it back against the wall.
    The esper clones stood framed in the doorway a moment, looking out at the men and machines arrayed against them. From somewhere deep inside, Stevie One found the strength to stand alone. Stevie Three glanced back over her shoulder, and showed her teeth in a smile.
    "See you in Hell, boys."
    She turned back to stare out the doorway, and both the Stevie Blues burst into flames. Bright blue fires burned around them, strengthening and consuming them as they focused all their last strength and rage into a final act of defiance.

    They ran forward, yelling their war cry, fire blazing from three outstretched hands to incinerate men and machines alike. The Imperial marines opened fire.
    Disrupter beams punched through the Stevie Blues again and again, shaking them like a dog shakes a rat. They fell together, and their flames went out, and there were no more Stevie Blues, anywhere at all.
    Flynn got it all on film. Toby couldn't think of a damn thing to say.
    A marine Sergeant came forward, and calmly stirred the dead espers with his boot, to make sure they were dead. He nodded, satisfied, and then walked unhurriedly forward to look through the door at Toby and Flynn. Toby waited to die. He had nowhere to go, and wouldn't have known what to do with a weapon if he'd had one. He felt strangely unconcerned, as though it felt wrong he should still be alive, when everyone else was dead. He glared up at the Sergeant unflinchingly, and hoped Flynn would keep filming to the last. The Sergeant stood over him and smiled.
    "You're a lucky boy, Shreck. Turns out the Empress is something of a fan of yours. She's followed everything you've done recently. Think how surprised and delighted she was when the Elegance picked up your signal. So, you're coming with us. You and your cameraman are now official Imperial reporters, and the Empress wants you covering the fall of the Deathstalker Standing. And no, you don't get a choice. So hurry up, or you'll miss it."
    He hauled Toby up onto his feet and slapped some of the dust off him. Flynn got up unaided. The Sergeant looked at him and winced.
    "We'd better find you a cloak. Even reporters are supposed to have some standards. Come along, lads. The Empress wants the whole Empire to see what happens to people who dare rebel against her wise and just rule. Do a really
    good job, and maybe she won't have you executed afterward for fraternizing with the enemy. Now move it!"
    Toby and Flynn walked unsteadily out of the room of death and into the waiting arms of the Empire.
    In the ancient Standing of his Clan, David Deathstalker sat on the edge of his bed, watching his planet die on the viewscreen before him. He clicked through channel after channel, but the scene was always the same. His people, fighting and dying. Fighting ground troops or combat androids or war machines, but always dying. The villages and the towns and the cities burned, and the countryside was full of refugees being rounded up by Imperial troops. One in ten would be executed later, as an