Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

kill?"
    "Diana…"
    "Jenny. I'm Jenny now."
    "All right, Jenny. I never knew they'd put you into Silo Nine. If I'd known, I'd have…"
    "You'd have what? Smashed your way into one of the Empire's most strongly guarded prisons to save me?"
    "Yes," said Silence simply. "If I'd known, I would have come for you."
    Jenny nodded slowly. "Yes. Maybe you would have at that. But you didn't. On the planet Unseeli, you promised me you'd never let me be hurt again. You lied.
    Daddy."
    "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."
    "And now here we are, on different sides of the war, and all because of the Iron Bitch. How can you still defend her, after all she's done? After all she had done to me?"
    "She's my Empress," said Silence.
    Lionstone jumped down from her Throne, stalked over to Silence, and slapped him hard on the face. His head rocked under the blow, but he held his ground.
    Lionstone stuck her face right in front of his, so close that when she spoke, her spittle sprayed his cheeks. "Traitor! Damned traitor! You hid your powers from me, you failed in every mission I gave you, and now I find your own daughter is one of my greatest enemies!"

    "That's all true," Silence said steadily. "But you are still my Empress."
    Lionstone laughed in his face, and drew back her hand for another blow. And then she gasped, her eyes widening as an unseen force gripped her hand firmly and jerked it back. She tried to break free, and couldn't. She looked across at Jenny Psycho, who was scowling at her.
    "That's enough of that, bitch. That's my dad you're messing with."
    "I appreciate the gesture," said Silence. "But let her go, Jenny. Please."
    Jenny sniffed, released her hold, and gave the Empress a mental shove that sent her stumbling back toward her Throne. Lionstone quickly regained her balance and seated herself on her Throne again with defiant dignity. She was still the Empress, and she still had weapons she could use. She glared around her, and her gaze fell on Valentine Wolfe.
    "Don't look at me," said Valentine. "I know a lost cause when I see one. I could fight for you, I suppose. I have drugs for that. But I really don't see the point. The rebellion's time has come. It would seem I jumped ship from the underground a little too early. So. I will withdraw to the sidelines and offer my services to whoever comes out on top. People like me are always useful."
    "You're not fighting because you're afraid your makeup would get smudged," said Hazel.
    Valentine smiled. "That too."
    "Do you really think you can be forgiven for what your war machines did on Virimonde?" said Owen. "For the slaughter and suffering and horror you brought to a helpless farming people?"
    The Wolfe shrugged. "I was only obeying orders. Not an original excuse, I'll admit, but then the old jokes are always the best. And I can be very loyal, for the right rewards. And I'm sure the underground leaders will recognize my worth.

    I know things, you see. Things the underground will need to know, if it's to take control of the Empire without unnecessary suffering and destruction. Which is more important to you, Deathstalker, seeing me punished or rebuilding the Empire with the minimum of bloodshed? No, they'll pardon me, no matter how much the rabble scream for my head. I'm just too valuable to waste. Not to worry, Deathstalker. You've still got Lionstone to kill. Enjoy yourself. Knock yourself out. It's not every day you get to murder an Empress."
    "Execute," said Owen.
    Valentine smiled. "Don't you just love euphemisms?"
    Lionstone turned desperately on her Throne to her two bodyguards. "Razor!
    SummerIsle! Defend me!"
    "No," said Kit calmly. "I don't think so. Because of you, David died on Virimonde. I only came back here for a chance to watch you die at close quarters. And do the job myself, if necessary. My David is dead. I'll enjoy watching you die, Lionstone."
    Razor drew his sword and spun it around in a vicious sideways arc aimed at Kit's neck. But for all his Investigator's swiftness, he couldn't catch the SummerIsle off guard. Kit's sword was in just the right place to block the blow, as though he'd known all along what Razor was going to do. And maybe he had. He was Kid Death, after all. The two men sprang apart, and then circled each other warily, two practiced killers come together at last in a match that would finally decide which of them was better. Their swords slammed together, withdrew, and then spun through a dazzling series of cuts and parries. Razor was an