Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

in alive. If the Campbell were here…” “Yes, I know. But if we’re keeping secrets from people who are supposed to be our comrades, what might they be keeping from us?” “Hell,” said Hazel lightly. “Everyone’s got secrets.” She realized how that sounded only after she’d said it, and she held her breath a moment before Owen grunted and turned away to study the sensor readings on the main display screen. Hazel let her breath out slowly, so Owen wouldn’t hear it, and tried to relax. There were still things she was keeping from Owen, partly because she didn’t want him getting upset, and partly because she still believed in keeping her own business to herself. Ever since she’d first passed through the Madness Maze on the Wolfling World and been changed forever, she’d been having problems with dreams. To begin with, they had been just disturbing images, but more and more these days the dreams persisted into her waking world, and she couldn’t push aside the thought that they meant something. Something important. She was dreaming every night now, clear and distinct, and she couldn’t tell if she was seeing the past or the future. It was as though Time was unraveling in her head, in the darkest hours of the night, when her defenses were at their weakest. Something in her mind was showing her things, and wouldn’t let her look away.
    While on Mistworld, she’d dreamed of the Empire invasion hours before it actually happened.
    Last night there had been three dreams, one after the other. First she dreamed of the Blood Runners, the evil inhabitants of the dark Obeah worlds, far out on the Rim where no one ever went, who’d once tried to kidnap her for their never ending experiments into the nature of suffering and existence. Owen had saved her then, reaching out with his mind across countless light-years to strike down their leader. In her dream, they looked at her with knowing, cruel eyes, watching and waiting with horrid patience. They held something in their hands. Something sharp.
    Then she dreamed of Owen’s Family Standing, on Virimonde. She’d walked the empty stone corridors with easy familiarity, though she’d never been there before. It was bitter cold, the cold of the grave, and blood trickled down the walls, staining the ancient tapestries and exquisite carpets. There was someone waiting around the next corner, and far down below, something awful. And finally she dreamed she stood alone on the bridge of Sunstrider II while all hell broke out around her. There were ships attacking from every side, ships beyond counting, overwhelming her defenses even as she fought frantically to hold them back. All the alarms were sounding, and the Sunstrider II’s guns fired again and again. There was no sign of Owen anywhere. Past, present, and future. Maybe. But were they predictions or just warnings?
    Did they mean she had a chance to change things, rewrite history, defy destiny?
    Or was she just going crazy, like everyone else around her? There had been a time when the forbidden drug Blood had helped her cope with many things, including the dreams, but she’d moved beyond that.
    She’d been so physically transformed from what she used to be she doubted Blood would even be able to make a dent in her body chemistry these days. Besides, Blood was heavily addictive, and she was damned if anything or anyone was ever going to have control over her again, including her own weaknesses. “What do you suppose Valentine and his cronies are up to down there?” she said suddenly, determined to distract herself.
    “Beats the hell out of me,” said Owen, still studying the data scrolling past him on the viewscreen. The data was moving far too fast for normal eyes to follow, but neither of them mentioned it. They were used to small changes like that. “He’s reinforced the Standing’s shields. I’m not picking up anything useful.
    Which is in itself significant. He shouldn’t have access to anything strong enough to keep out Hadenman-designed sensors. So who’s been supplying him with tech?”
    “We’ll have to ask him,” said Hazel. “When we get down there.” “Too many questions,” said Owen, finally shutting down the viewscreen. “Too many unknowns. Why did he return here? Why did he take over my old home? What did he hope to achieve here that was so important he was willing to risk me coming after him?”
    “He’s here for a specific purpose,” said Hazel. “Has to be, or he