Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

of control. The colonists had only a handful of attack ships for defense, and not one of them made it off the pads. The streets were choked with people, running and screaming, driven from what they’d thought were safe harbors by the unrelenting assault. Humanity routed, panicked, on the run.
    And then came the ground troops. An army of Hadenmen hitting the streets, augmented, merciless warriors of the Genetic Church. They were tall and perfect, moving with inhuman grace, stalking the city streets unaffected by the heat and smoke, killing everything that moved that was not them. Steel angels flecked with blood, bearing the wrath of their cybernetic god. There was no pity in them and no hesitation, and they stepped calmly over the dead and the dying to get at those still running before them.
    They killed with guns and swords and their own augmented strength, ripping people apart, tearing their limbs away and smashing their heads against unyielding walls. The streets were full of screams, and blood ran thickly in the gutters, but none of that meant anything to the silent Hadenmen. They knew only logic and efficiency and the grim, unyielding destiny they brought to Brahmin II. The survivors would be transformed, and the dead harvested for raw material. Nothing would be wasted once they controlled the world. Men would become Hadenmen. Nothing else mattered. The record tapes were often short and jerky, recorded by news cameramen on the run, trying to stay alive long enough to get their pictures out to the Empire. They were all dead now, but their testaments survived. And the scenes they had broadcast live had inspired a rage and a determination throughout the Empire to stop the Hadenmen and drive them back, whatever the cost. Brahmin II had been avenged. Eventually.
    Owen frowned as the last of the tapes ran out and the viewscreen cleared. “I’d seen most of that before.
    When I was researching a paper, back in my historian days. But to see it all, added together… What happened to Brahmin II in the end?”
    “When the Hadenmen knew they were losing the war, and they had no choice but to abandon Brahmin II, they paused just long enough to kill everyone they hadn’t transformed. Everyone they could find.
    When Imperial troops finally touched down, all they found were bodies piled in the streets and a handful
    of survivors: women and children, hiding, overlooked. From a colony of millions, only eighty-three survivors. Most of them quite mad from all they’d witnessed. And that’s what happened when the Hadenmen first came to Brahmin II.” “Dear God, Hazel,” said Owen. “What have I done? What have I unleashed on the Empire?”
    “We knew the dangers,” said Hazel. “There was always the chance they’d changed. That they’d learned something from their defeat. Everyone deserves a chance at atonement, even Hadenmen. Right?”
    “We might have won the battle only to lose the war,” said Owen. “If we can’t stop the new Hadenmen Crusade right here.”
    “Hold everything. We’re going to stop the new Crusade of the Genetic Church and a whole damn army of augmented men? Just you and me?” “Sure,” said Owen. “We’re invincible heroes, remember? You saw the movie.” “I have seen more realism in commercials by moneylenders,” said Hazel flatly, then sighed heavily. “All right, tell me your plan. Tell me you have a plan, at least.”
    “I’ve been trying to come up with one all the way here,” Owen admitted. “So far without much success.
    I think our best bet may be a frontal approach. Just walk into the main city and demand to speak to whoever’s in charge. They claim to respect me as their Redeemer, since I opened their Tomb and brought them back to life. Maybe I can trade that against their need for this planet. Offer myself in place of the colonists. Or at least as many colonists as a Redeemer is worth.” “Weren’t you listening to me at all, Owen? You can’t make deals with Hadenmen. You deliver yourself into their hands, and at best they’ll kill you. At worst they’ll make you into a Hadenman. No, Owen, we’re going to have to be a little more subtle than usual this time. We tried fighting an army on Mistworld and nearly died, for all our powers. We need a strategy, and that means more information about what’s currently going on dirtside.
    Like how many Hadenmen there are, where they’re situated, that kind of thing.” “I’ve got Oz scanning.
    Any luck,