Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

this.
    Things are so much simpler on a battlefield.”
    “This is where we belong, Jack. Right in the middle of things, in blood up to our armpits. Peace was just a dream. You can’t fight destiny.” “Maybe,” said Random. “Maybe.”
    The great gates opened, and the last army of Vidar filed through the huge airlock and streamed out into the raging storm, disregarding the violent weather in anticipation of the fighting still to come.
    They made good time across the dark, jagged landscape, and five hours later they passed through a narrow valley to reach the open plain where the lull was supposed to hit. They set up a temporary camp of reinforced tents and waited impatiently for the storm to pass. When the lull finally came, it was like a kind of magic. The wind’s voice fell away like the end of an oratorio, and suddenly there was utter silence. The air was still, like the eye of a hurricane, and the dust settled slowly to the ground. It was like the end of the world, the last pause before Judgment Day. The army emerged from their tents and looked around them, seeing their world with new eyes. Most had never known anything but the endless storms.
    People laughed and joked and cheered and slapped each other on the shoulder, as though the lull was a sure sign of victory. Savage had them start stripping off most of their protective armor, so they’d have more freedom of movement once the fighting began. And when that was over, everyone just stood in place, looking expectantly out across the open plain. The world was very still, as though holding its breath, waiting for everything to begin. And then the holo cameras out on the plain sent back the first pictures of the rebel and Shub forces. They were on their way. Random, Ruby, and Savage crowded around a small monitor screen and nodded, satisfied. The enemy had taken the bait and committed all their forces.
    The Vidar army surged out across the plain and the enemy came to meet them. There was no time or need for subtle tactics. Two opposite forces crashed together, no quarter asked or given, and blood spilled on the dusty ground. Human fighters threw themselves against walking corpses, and the thought of surrender was alien to both of them.
    Within an hour, most of the living on both sides were dead. The battle was a mess, groups of fighters surging this way and that, each concerned only with their personal part of the war. Swords rose and fell, hacking at living and unliving flesh. Axes chopped through human meat and jarred on bone. And from everywhere came the sudden flaring and roar of discharging energy weapons. Men and women fell and did not rise again. Ghost Warriors fell too, blown apart by energy beams or surrounded and cut to pieces by howling warriors. The maddened mob surged back and forth on the blood-soaked ground, driven by rage and hatred that could be soothed only by victory or death. And among them moved the living dead, driven by cold disappasionate minds that killed and killed and felt nothing at all. The bodies piled up to every side, and still the battle raged on.
    Peter Savage fell, unnoticed.
    He’d stuck close to Random and Ruby, guarding their backs, awed and amazed. He saw men and Ghost Warriors fall under their blades, swept almost casually aside by superior strength and speed, and his heart swelled to be fighting in such company. He thought they were invulnerable, protected by fate and destiny, and because he fought at their side, he must be too. He never even saw the blade that came thrusting out of nowhere to slam into his rib cage and out again. Driven by servomechanism-assisted muscles, the blow threw him to the bloody ground, and ignorant feet stamped around him.
    At first Savage thought he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, and tried to get up again. But his legs wouldn’t obey him, and when he put his hand to his side, it came away dripping blood. Pain hit him then, and he cried out in spite of himself. He was no quitter. He kept trying to get to his feet, even as his lifeblood drained away. His place was at Random’s side. But his body wouldn’t listen. He died there, unseen and unremarked. Peter Savage was a brave man, and a hero, but he was never more than human.
    Jack Random and Ruby Journey, so much more than human, fought savagely and tirelessly, dealing out terrible wounds and sudden death with every blow, and what small injuries they took healed almost immediately. They never saw Peter Savage fall, or even