Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

all.
    Then there was a new disturbance at the back of the crowd, and people fell back as two men bulled through, heading implacably for the open floor of the House. Everyone recognized Captain John Silence, but the dark and brooding figure at his side was a mystery. Once Silence’s companion would have been Investigator Frost, as attached to him as his shadow, but she had died defending the Empire, struck down by that notorious traitor Kit SummerIsle. The new figure was, if anything, even more disturbing than Frost had been, and people looked away, unable to meet his eyes. And then some people recognized what the man in black was holding, and a shocked murmur ran through the crowd. It was a power lance, a banned weapon from the old days of Empire, banned because it could make an esper so strong that no one could hope to stand against him. It was death just to own one.
    Captain Silence stood at the front of the crowd and nodded brusquely to the House. He was a tall man
    in his late forties, with a thickening waistline and a receding hairline, and eyes that had seen far too much, but had never been able to look away. One of the few who had fought for the Empire to nonetheless emerge a genuine hero, he’d kept his head down since then. There were many on both sides who would have liked to remove such a powerful figure from the game, but he was too potentially useful to be taken off the board just yet. Never knew when you might need someone for a last-ditch suicide run. And now here he was, unannounced and unexpected. The crowd went very quiet, and waited for him to speak.
    Silence nodded brusquely to Gutman.
    “Sorry to burst in, but this won’t wait. I’ve just returned from the planet Unseeli, out on the Rim. We’re all in big trouble.” “Oh, hell,” said Gutman. “Does nothing but bad news come from the Rim these days?
    What is it. Captain, the insect ships?”
    “Worse,” said Silence. “It’s Shub.” He let the crowd and the MPs mutter for a moment before continuing. “I was on a regular supply run to the single Imperial Base on Unseeli, where scientists were studying a crashed alien ship of unknown origin. We dropped out of hyperspace to find the whole planet had been destroyed. The metallic forests that covered the world from pole to pole, provider of the heavy metals that power our traditional stardrives, have been completely harvested. Billions of trees, and every one gone. “The Base is destroyed, blown apart. Every man and woman dead. The alien ship is gone.
    Shub took it. The only living thing to survive the Shub attack was the man at my side, once an Investigator, living on Unseeli as an outlaw. His name is Carrion. I brought him here to tell the story, with my personal guarantee of his safety. I trust this is acceptable?”
    “Yes, yes,” said Gutman impatiently. “We trust your judgment in this as always.
    Tell us about the Shub attack. Why didn’t the Fleet detect it?” “No one sees Shub if they don’t want to be seen,” said the man called Carrion, in a voice like a dead man talking. Tall and whipcord lean, he wore dark leathers under a billowing black cape. He had a young face, deathly pale under long black hair, and cold, dark eyes. “They came out of nowhere, thousands of ships like nightmares cast in metal, filling the skies. They slapped aside the Base’s force screen as though it wasn’t there and smashed it flat.
    I heard the screams of men and women as they died. Shub took the alien ship, along with whatever scientists happened to be on board at the time. The attack was over almost as soon as it began. Then they began the harvesting.” He paused. “Once there had lived among the metallic trees a wonderous alien race called the Ashrai. The Empire exterminated them so as to have uninterrupted access to the metal trees. But their souls survived, tied to the trees. I heard them screaming as the trees were ripped from the earth.
    “I survived, underground, protected and hidden by my psionic abilities. I am the only living survivor of Unseeli. The Ashrai are dead, the humans are dead, and the trees are gone. My name is Carrion. I bring bad luck. I am the destroyer of nations and of worlds.”
    He stopped talking abruptly, and the silence stretched on for long moments as everyone looked at each other, caught up in the spell of the dark man’s words and the terrible news he brought. Finally Gutman cleared his throat uncertainly and looked down at Carrion and