Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

his own army of troops through the Parade of the Endless, fighting from the front, putting down rebellion wherever he found it, by whatever means necessary. His successes and calm military demeanor inspired his soldiers, and almost through sheer force of personality he held the center of the city, and would not be moved, no matter what the odds against him. To the troops he was a hero as well as a legend, the protector of Humanity, and they stood their ground and fought to the death rather than fail him. So the rebels left them the center of the city, and went around them. For in the end he was only one man, and he couldn't be everywhere at once.
    The cyberats hacked into Golgotha's main communications systems and shut down every military comm channel they could reach. The troops were instantly shut off from each other and isolated in their own small pockets of fighting. Strategy became impossible and reinforcements ran helplessly in circles. Imperial espers were no match for the organized underground telepaths, and the military and
    security organizations quickly fell apart. Orders never reached their destinations. Calls for help went unanswered. Chaos reigned. But the rioters wasted their energies on looting and trivial revenges, for all the underground could do to guide them. The rebels themselves remained outnumbered and outgunned, and the longer the fighting went on, the worse the odds against them grew. They had to strike quickly, while they still had the advantage of surprise, and take control of Golgotha, or the rebellion could still fall apart and fail, for all its successes. The military knew this, and played a waiting game, holding key areas and refusing to give way. And so blood spilled, and men and women died on both sides, the tides of battle went this way and that, and the leaders of the underground began to grow desperate. It was beginning to look as though all their hopes now depended on a small group of heroes and legends who hadn't even made an appearance yet, that the whole rebellion could stand or fall on the actions of Owen Deathstalker and his companions.
    The Shandrakor Standing of Giles Deathstalker, the original home and sanctuary of the Deathstalker Clan, dropped out of hyperspace and fell into orbit over the planet Golgotha. A huge stone castle with its own stardrive and force shield, and many other hidden surprises, it hung silently over the homeworld of Empire like a specter from the past, from the great days of Empire, before the dream became a nightmare and good men fell as the bad came to power. The ancient stone gleamed whitely in the light of Golgotha's sun, pale as a ghost, the specter at the feast, the old retainer returned at last to kick the usurpers out. After 943
    years, the Deathstalker Standing had finally come home.
    Giles Deathstalker stood at parade rest in the great Hall of the Standing, his back to a blazing fire, studying the planet below as it turned slowly on the giant viewscreen at the end of the Hall. Clad in his usual battered armor,
    grubby furs, golden armlets, and mercenary's scalplock, he looked more like some barbarian warrior out of Humanity's distant past then the first Warrior Prime of the Empire, hero and legend to all the Empire for almost a millennium. His long sword hung in a scabbard down his back, the leather-wrapped hilt peering watchfully over his shoulder, as though only waiting to be called into action.
    The original Deathstalker, namer and founder of his Clan, back from exile to a homeworld that knew him not.
    His distant descendant, Owen Deathstalker, stood a little away, with his comrade in arms, Hazel d'Ark, at his side. There was a closeness between them that hadn't been so clear before, as though they had discovered something important about each other and themselves during the invasion of Mistworld. They stood tall and confident, and strength and power hung about them like an aura of greatness. They wore no armor, but while Owen bore only his sword and disrupter.
    Hazel was packing as many weapons as she could carry. Hazel believed in guns.
    They'd come a long way since they first met, in a field on Virimonde which no longer existed, and it was hard to see in Owen and Hazel the reclusive scholar and reluctant pirate they'd once been. They had come into their destiny, and it showed.
    On the other side of the enormous fireplace stood Jack Random, the legendary professional rebel. The broken-down old man Owen had found hiding out in Mistport,