Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

powerful for its size. But soon I will be operating at acceptable efficiency levels again, and if you will not help me to pass as Jack Random, then I will fulfill my secondary programming, and kill every human here. What will that do to your push on the command center? Like it or not, you're stuck with me."
    "Like hell," said Finlay. "Julian, stamp this tin soldier flat."
    "Gladly," said Julian, he called up his psistorm, compressed and focused it into a hammer of pure force, and brought it slamming down on the crippled Fury. The human-shaped machine flattened out like a starship had fallen on it, the metal cracking and shattering in a thousand places. Julian smiled coldly as the metal shape crumpled under the pressure of his mind. The esper concentrated, and the flattened metal rolled itself into a ball, shrinking and further compacting until all that remained was a solid sphere of metal, with no trace of life left in it. Julian smiled again.
    "Repair that, you bastard."
    Finlay and Evangeline buried the sphere under a pile of body parts. Julian looked up at Flynn's camera, still hovering overhead, and scowled thoughtfully.

    "Oh no, not the camera, please!" said Toby. "We don't have another!"
    "We can't let this piece of news get out," said Julian. "No one must ever know."
    "We know how to keep our mouths shut," said Toby. "This wouldn't be the first piece of film I've had to bury. Ask the Campbell; he'll vouch for me."
    "I don't know if I'd go that far," said Finlay. "But I think we can trust him to understand that if this piece of film ever surfaces again, there will be a queue of people waiting to kill him in slow and interesting ways. Right, Shreck?"
    "Couldn't have put it better myself," said Toby. "I've seen you people in action. I don't want you coming after me. It doesn't really matter. I've already got enough great footage to make me immortal."
    "What about me?" said Flynn. "Don't I get to be immortal, too?"
    "I said immortal, not immoral. You just point the camera and leave the thinking to me."
    Flynn glared at him coldly. "I am an artist. It's in my contract."
    "I know what you are," said Toby. "Now shut up and point the camera."
    "Bully," said Flynn. "You wait till your next direct to camera. I'll make you look really podgy."
    "You'd swear they were married, wouldn't you?" said Julian. "Finlay, we have to get our people moving again, before they have time to think about what's happened here. If they panic, the whole push will fall apart."
    "Got it," said Finlay. He stepped up onto the rubble so all the rebels could see him. "Jack Random is dead! The Empire killed him. Are you going to let his death be for nothing? Or will you fight on, as he would have wanted? Then follow me, to death or glory!"
    It was as basic as that, but it worked. The rebels roared their defiance to the
    Empire and surged forward again, howling for revenge. Finlay led the way, with Evangeline and Julian at his sides. He'd never doubted that the rebels would follow him, in Random's name. Sometimes a rebel leader can be a greater inspiration dead than alive. The defending troops had held their ground while they thought Random's death would demoralize the rebels, but the new, even more determined attack was just too much for them. Outnumbered and outfought, they cracked and turned and ran, some throwing away their weapons to show they were no longer a part of the war, and as quickly as that the battle was over. The troops ran in all directions, desperate to escape the killing grounds, and the rebels cut down those who didn't run fast enough.
    Finlay stormed forward, heading for the huge steel doors that were the only entrance to the command-center bunker. Disrupters built into the bunker walls opened up, but Julian deflected the beams with his esp until rebel sharpshooters had blown the guns out of their emplacements. And then they were all at the door, and Evangeline punched in the entry codes that the underground leaders had provided. Nothing happened. Evangeline tried again, hitting each number carefully, but the door remained stubbornly closed. Finlay could hear the crowd growing restive behind them.
    "Typical," he said briskly. "Have to do everything ourselves. Julian, get this door open."
    "I'm on it," said Julian. He concentrated, ignoring the familiar headache growing behind his temples, and hit the door with a psychokinetic hammer blow that punched the door right out of its supports and back into the bunker. The rebels