Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

can take that will let us bypass the fan?”
    “Afraid not. There are fans like this throughout the system. Whatever route you take, you’re going to run into another fan eventually.” “On the other hand,” said Hazel, turning back suddenly, “every now and again I get the occasional good idea. Owen, back in Mistport you tore a whole building apart just by thinking about it, right?”
    “Well, yes, but…”
    “But nothing. How did you do it?”
    “Damned if I know, really. I just got angry enough, and the power came to me. A lot of the Maze’s changes emerge only when I get mad or desperate enough.” Hazel nodded quickly. “Yeah, same with me. I get angry enough in a fight, or pushed hard enough, and my alternates start popping in out of nowhere to save my butt. But your power sounds a lot like a polter’s psychokinesis. If you could call up that power and then crank it right down, concentrating it just on the fan, I’ll bet you could slow those blades right down without damaging the fan, and we could step through safely. Then you could let go, the fan would speed up again, and everything would be back to normal, all without setting off any alarms.
    Right?”
    “Right,” said Owen. “That is an excellent idea, Hazel. Really. The only problem is, I haven’t the faintest idea how to call up my power, let alone control it. When you get right down to it, we’ve never really understood what the Maze did to us, or how we do the things we do. Mostly because we haven’t had the time.” “We could have made time,” Hazel said slowly, “if we’d wanted to. But we’ve—okay, I’ve—never liked discussing the Maze, or what we might be turning into. We’re not espers. Esp couldn’t do some of the things we’ve done. Hell, there are miracle-working saints who’d have trouble following our act.” “As in so many things,” said Owen, “we learn by doing. Like a child learning to walk.”
    “We should have discussed this long ago. Who knows what we might be capable of?”
    “Exactly. Who knows what extremes, of good or evil, we might prove capable of.
    Who knows… what we might be becoming?”
    They looked at each other for a long moment. “Are you saying… we might become monsters?” said Hazel.
    “Sometimes I worry we already are,” said Owen. “We all did… questionable things during the rebellion.
    You, me, Jack, and Ruby. Because we thought they were necessary, justifiable. And that was for a good cause. Now we’ve been cut loose, no one to answer to but ourselves, because nobody has the power to stop us if we choose not to be stopped. I find that frightening sometimes. Power corrupts, and the Maze has made us so very powerful. I fear what we might become. What we might let loose without even realizing. That’s why I’ve always tried not to use my powers unless I absolutely had to. Because I had so little control over what I might do, or become. I’ve always struggled to stay within human limits. To stay human.”
    “I don’t feel any different,” said Hazel, frowning. “I’ve done… remarkable things, but I’m still me.”
    “How could you tell?” said Owen gently. “How could I tell? Neither of us were born heroes, or ever intended to be, but we made ourselves over because we had to change to survive. We became legends because the rebellion needed legends. What else have we made of ourselves because we thought it necessary?”
    “I wish you’d stop asking questions you know damn well neither of us can answer. We just did what we had to, same as everyone else. Look, we have come a long way from the original question, and this sure as hell isn’t the time or the place for a philosophical discussion. I am standing in stuff I don’t even want to think about, breathing green-tinted air that is probably doing unthinkable things to my lungs, directly under a city crawling with Hadenmen, who would be only too happy to rip off both our heads and make them into plant containers. We can discuss all this mystical shit later. Right now all I care about is whether you can slow these bloody fan blades down enough for us to get past them. Will you at least give it a try, dammit?”
    “Of course I’m going to try,” said Owen. “But we will continue this discussion at a later time.”
    He turned his attention back to the churning fan blades. They looked large and solid and completely unyielding, and he didn’t have a single clue how to affect them. He felt none of the