Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

Palace at the first sign of anything worrying. Hopefully the codes Oz and my father supplied are either blocking the carriage's sensors or preventing the Palace from flooding the carriage with gas. A slow and rather horrid death, or so I'm told."
    Hazel glared at the nearest gas nozzle. "Hold everything. Are you telling me you don't know exactly what these codes do?"
    "I'm afraid so. Oz doesn't have details like that. Apparently my father loaded the codes into the AI's memory some time back, but never got around to explaining their function. Which was typical of my father, who never explained anything unless he absolutely had to. So I'm afraid we'll just have to trust him."

    "You want me to trust the word of an AI that's supposed to be dead, and only you can hear, programmed by a man who delighted in intrigue and treachery? All right; stop the train. Let me off. I'll walk the rest of the way."
    "The trains are programmed not to stop anywhere except their destination," Owen said calmly. "I could break down the door and throw you out, but then you'd be facing a ten-mile walk. Alone. In the dark. Facing unknown security measures very definitely not covered by my codes."
    Hazel scowled at him and took solace in her decanter. "I hate it when you're right. You go all smug and self-satisfied."
    Owen hid a smile and looked round at Giles, who still had his eyes shut.
    "Everything all right, Giles?"
    Giles opened his eyes and nodded to Owen, ignoring Hazel. "Couldn't be better, my boy. I've waited a long time for this. Dreamed for so long of finally coming home to put right the ancient wrongs done me. They threw me out, Owen. Outlawed me, after everything I'd done, for them. I gave them my life and all my duty, fought their wars and killed their enemies, stained my honor with the Darkvoid Device, and even that wasn't enough for them. But now, after 943 years, I'm back to present them with the bill for what they did to me."
    He stopped talking with an abruptness that suggested he had nothing more to say on the subject, and stared straight ahead, eyes far away in a time of old hurts and betrayals. Owen stirred uncomfortably in his seat. The original Deathstalker had been a hero and a legend for so long it was hard to think of him as a real man, with real hurts and grievances. Owen couldn't help feeling that the great and glorious Deathstalker of old ought to be above such things. There wasn't room in what they had to do for such simple things as revenge anymore. Even he
    knew that. To be fair, Giles had never tried to hide the fact that he was in this for himself, and not for the underground or any of its causes. The rebellion was just a means to an end for him. On its own this would have been enough to cause Owen concern, but there was also the fact that for a man who'd spent the best part of a thousand years in stasis, Giles often seemed remarkably well informed and up-to-date. Owen sighed mentally. If you couldn't trust Giles Deathstalker, legendary hero and warrior, whom could you trust?
    Assuming, of course, that this really was Giles Deathstalker.
    The journey passed uneventfully, Hazel kept shooting suspicious glances at the gas jets in the ceiling, and significantly lowered the level of brandy in her decanter. Eventually this made Owen so nervous that he took the decanter away from her and put it back in the bar. It was a measure of their friendship that she let him do it, but she still didn't speak to him for the rest of the trip.
    The train finally slowed and slid to a halt. The door opened, and the engine shut itself down. It was suddenly very quiet. Owen got to his feet, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest. They'd finally come to Court. No more plans, no more arguments, no more quiet panics in the early hours of the morning when everyone else was fast asleep. And no turning back. Here, in the next few hours, his fate and that of the whole Empire would be decided, one way or another. He drew his sword and gun, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the platform. He only managed a couple of steps, and then stopped dead. He heard Hazel and Giles leave the carriage behind him, but he only had eyes for the man waiting at the other end of the platform to meet them. As soon as Owen saw him, he realized he should have expected him to be there. That it was right that this man, above all others, should be there to try and stop them going any farther.
    He was standing some distance down the brightly illuminated