Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

can, to face this new threat," Gutman said heavily. "I'm sure this House will wish to support him in every way possible." He looked around him, but still no one said anything. Gutman scowled. "We all knew the Recreated would make their appearance eventually. Their timing could have been better… but that's the way our luck's been going recently. So, Half A Man; you have the most experience with these…
    aliens. We will put a fast ship at your disposal immediately. I'm sure you'll wish to confer with General Beckett as soon as possible. With the two of you leading our forces against the Recreated…"
    "No," said Half A Man. "I'm not going."
    Everyone turned to look at him. He stared impassively back with his half a human face, his energy half spitting and crackling in the quiet.
    "But… your advice on dealing with these aliens will be invaluable," said Gutman.
    "You can do far more good with Beckett's Fleet than you can here."
    "I'm not going," said Half A Man. "There's no point. We can't beat them, we can't stop them, and there's nowhere we can run. There's nothing I or the Fleet can do to save you. Every species has to face its own extinction eventually."
    He turned and walked away, and for a long, long time after he left the House, no one had anything to say.

    Constance Wolfe and Robert Campbell were making plans for their forthcoming wedding. Or at least, Constance was. Robert had given up trying to keep track of events long ago, and now settled for standing around on the very edge of the organized chaos, drinking endless cups of tea, ready to offer help and advice on the few occasions when it might be required. Personally, he would have been quite happy to abdicate all authority on the matter to Constance, but she insisted his opinions mattered to her, and wouldn't hear of him leaving it all to her. And besides, there was the media to consider. The ceremonial wedding of the first constitutional King and Queen to be had captured the public imagination and affection, and they were desperate for continuing coverage of the wedding couple and all the preparations. They wanted to see everything. And since Robert couldn't afford to be seen as the weak half of the happy couple, he had to be seen to be right there in the thick of things, participating in every decision. If only theoretically.
    Constance's suite at the top of Tower Wolfe was packed with people, coming and going and coming back again, all the while chattering constantly at the top of their voices. There were endless clothes to be designed and approved and fitted, flowers to be chosen and arranged, gifts to be examined and cooed over and stacked away (after being discreetly examined for bombs or other unpleasantnesses, because not everyone approved of the royal wedding, for a whole variety of reasons), and all the endless details of the great ceremony to be discussed and argued over at distracting length. There were courtiers and tradespeople and Family representatives from both sides, all of them buzzing around Constance like bees around a rare and precious bloom.
    All Robert had was his gentleman's gentleman, the experienced and very reassuring Baxter.
    With Owen Deathstalker missing and presumed dead, the need for a new constitutional King had grown suddenly very intense. The public wanted the royal wedding they'd been promised, and they wanted it soon. It was the one ray of light in an otherwise very gloomy time, and all across the Empire the people fixated on the wedding with an almost desperate determination. Candidates for Constance's new fiance had been advanced from all sides, by everyone with an ambition or an axe to grind, but Constance would have none of them. Instead, she chose Robert Campbell. Parliament went berserk, but the people ate it up with spoons. It was like a fairy-tale romance, with young love finally bringing together two Houses that had been at each other's throat for generations. And so the marriage was back on, the wedding ceremony was hastily rejigged here and there to allow for Campbell Family traditions instead of Deathstalker, and Robert wondered more than once just what he had let himself in for.
    He'd never wanted to be King, constitutional or otherwise. All he'd ever wanted was to be a Captain in the Imperial Fleet, master of his own ship. But Family responsibilities had put an end to that. It seemed to Robert that most of his life he'd been forced down paths that were not of his choosing, but at least this time he had