Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

Hazel now.
    Hazel d'Ark was back in Scour's cell, strapped down to the trolley again. An intravenous drip had been taped to her bare arm, pumping powerful sedatives into her system. She had to fight with everything she had just to keep her thoughts
    clear. Her body felt strangely far away, but she had no doubt that would change the moment Scour began his work with the tray of steel instruments set out on a table beside her. He was humming quietly to himself as he strapped on a heavy apron, presumably to keep the blood from getting on his robes. Hazel reached inside herself, hoping desperately. Her close proximity to the Summerstone had awakened some of her powers, but they kept slipping from her mental grasp. Scour had surrounded her with four of the severed heads on pedestals, and they were doing things to her mind. She could feel Scour's influence, boosted by the Summerstone and focused through the computer minds, as it moved inside her head, searching out secrets she desperately tried to keep from him. But he was there, digging into her back brain, her undermind, and more and more she couldn't tell which thoughts were hers and which were his.
    She tried again to distract him with conversation. It was obvious he loved to talk, to lecture his victims. It was a part of the power he had over them. But it helped her stay awake and focused. And there was always the chance he might let slip something she could use against him.
    "Tell me about Captain Markee," she said slowly. "My old Captain, when I was a clonelegger on the Shard. Just what kind of a deal did that old fool make with you people?"
    "Originally, he was part of the Deathstalker conspiracy," said Scour, not looking up from the stiff copper wire he was carefully inserting into the exposed brain tissues of one of the heads. "You do know Owen's father was part of a conspiracy against the Empress… Anyway, Captain Markee came here at our request, as a messenger from Arthur Deathstalker, bringing his reply to our terms for a partnership. We wanted a tithe of the human population, a percentage
    of Humanity to be handed over to us every year, for our experiments. In return, we would place our teleportation abilities at his disposal. The Deathstalker recognized our worth, and agreed to the tithe. Apparently he'd already made a similar deal with the Hadenmen. Captain Markee also made a deal with us: a tithe of his crew in return for introductions to the right people, to keep his clonelegging business going. Since he and all his crew are now dead, that just left you to be his tithe. So we came for you. We didn't realize how necessary you were to us, then. We didn't realize what the Madness Maze had done to you."
    "Then why risk turning the rebellion against you, just to get your hands on me?"
    "We had to enforce our bargain. We couldn't have people thinking we were going soft. Now; no more distractions, dear Hazel. I think we're ready for a test run."
    He made a final manipulation with his copper wire, and the four severed heads groaned loudly in unison. A surge of psychic power closed around Hazel's mind like a clamp, tightening and tightening till she thought she would scream from the pressure. And then Scour's scarred face loomed over hers, and a spike of pure amplified thought stabbed down, into her back brain, her undermind, and seized control of the doorway she opened to call her other selves through. Hazel fought to keep the door shut, but she was helpless against the mounting pressure. All she could do was lie on the damned trolley, writhe weakly under the leather straps, and watch in horror as another Hazel d'Ark appeared in the stone cell with her.
    This Hazel was dressed in barbaric white furs and leathers, and wore her hair in a mercenary's scalplock. She barely had time to look around her new surroundings before a headless body stepped forward and hit her from behind with a massive fist. The sound of the Hazel's neck breaking was terribly loud in the quiet.
    Hazel d'Ark cried out helplessly in rage and horror, as she watched her other self crumple lifelessly to the floor. Scour bent over the body, and poked it thoughtfully here and there.
    "Shame to waste such a potentially useful subject, but I need a body to dissect.
    Perhaps I can search out whatever physical changes the Maze has wrought in her flesh. I can't risk doing that with you, just yet. Now; another alternate, I think. Something a little more exotic, this time."
    He moved back to his severed