Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

crews were officially exonerated, only to find that no one trusted them anymore. Bartok didn't blame them. His own secret fear was that Shub had done something to his mind, installed secret control words and instructions buried so deep that no one could find them. He had no doubt this thought had also occurred to others, and wasn't surprised when his orders finally came through, detailing him to return to the Fleet Academy, as an instructor. Thus putting an end to his career, and enabling the Security forces to keep a close eye on him.
    And then came a call for volunteers to take on the Mistworld mission. It had to be volunteers. Everyone knew the odds were it was a suicide mission. Bartok grabbed at the chance eagerly. Odds didn't worry him. If his Empress said the mission was possible, that was good enough for him. And he was desperate to prove his loyalty, to be taken back into the fold and reinstated. Though whether
    he wanted to prove himself to his Empress or to himself remained uncertain.
    Lionstone accepted him as commander of the mission immediately. Partly because his record indicated he would get the job done, whatever the cost; and partly because if he failed, he and his crew wouldn't be any great loss. Bartok knew that and accepted it. They were his thoughts also.
    His door chimed politely and opened at his growled command. Lieutenant Ffolkes strode in, ducking his head just a little to avoid the hanging creepers around the door, followed by the reporter Tobias Shreck and his cameraman, Flynn.
    Tobias, also known as Toby the Troubadour, was a short, fat, perspiring man with flat blond hair, an easy smile, a mind like a steel trap, and absolutely no morals that he was aware of. All of which had combined to make him a first-class reporter. Flynn was a tall gangling sort with a deceptively honest face. His camera perched on his shoulder like a monocular mental owl.
    Toby and Flynn had been chosen personally by the Empress to cover and record the taking of Mistport. She'd been very impressed by their coverage of the rebellion on Technos III, and had made it very clear to both of them that this assignment was one they would be wise not to turn down. Not if they liked their major organs where they were. They were both quietly unsure as to whether the assignment was a reward or a punishment, but had enough sense not to ask. So Toby and Flynn said Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty, and wondered how the hell they were going to survive this one.
    There was no doubt the taking of Mistport would provide all kinds of first-class opportunities for recording history as it happened, along with plenty of the blood and destruction the home audiences so enjoyed; there was also no doubt in their minds that they stood a bloody good chance of getting their fool heads
    blown off. Rebels fighting for their home and their lives wouldn't pause to distinguish between an Imperial trooper and an honest news team just trying to do their job. But as Toby had said so often in the past, wars and battles always provided the best footage; so if you wanted the good stuff and the awards and rewards that would bring, you had to go where the action was. Flynn maintained a diplomatic silence on this, as he did on most things.
    Of course, there was always the problem of Imperial censorship. Lionstone was going to want footage that made her troops look good, and the rebels very, very bad, and wouldn't be above ordering her censors to cut any film that suggested otherwise. Toby and Flynn's misgivings were further confirmed by the official minder they'd been given to oversee their work and keep them out of trouble.
    Lieutenant Ffolkes was career military to the bone, a tall spindly sort who followed orders to the letter and was always eager for a chance to please any officer superior to himself. Probably slept at attention and gave himself extra fatigues for impure thoughts. He made it clear to Toby and Flynn and anyone who would listen that he regarded reporters and their cameramen as necessary vermin, who would do well to follow his own instructions to the last detail if they knew what was good for them. Their refusal to take him at all seriously, and refer to him as Gladys behind his back, upset him deeply. As did their habit of sprinting in the opposite direction whenever they saw him coming.
    Toby and Flynn studied the Captain's private quarters with interest as Bartok ignored them for the moment, quietly pruning something small and