Deathstalker 05 - Deathstalker Destiny

it."
    "That's enough!" said Silence. "Carrion is doing his job. You do yours. Scan the Base again while I try and make contact with the voice. See if you can find out who or what I'm talking to."
    "Perhaps it's hiding behind an esp-blocker," said Barron. "And that's why you can't detect it."
    "No," said Morrell. "I'd have detected the esp-blocker. Nice try, though."
    Silence opened his comm channel again. "This is Captain Silence. Can you hear me, Commander Jorgensson?"
    Hear you. Yes. Jorgensson.
    Morrell frowned, concentrating. "Scanning, Captain. There's no one in the Base.
    No one at all."
    "Then who the hell am I talking to?" said Silence.
    "Me," said Base Commander Jorgensson. "You were talking to me."
    They all looked around sharply, and there she was, standing in the open doorway to the Base. She looked exactly as she had on the last long entry she'd made before supposedly blowing up her Base. Exactly the same. Even down to the bloody scorched wound on her side. Her face was calm, and utterly without expression.
    Her arms hung limply at her sides. Silence looked at Morrell, who shook his head quickly.
    "I don't know what that is, but it's not human. I'm not picking up any thoughts at all from her. As far as my esp is concerned, she's not there. I will say this, though; she looks in pretty good shape for someone who's supposed to have been dead for centuries."
    Silence moved slowly toward Jorgensson. "Putting aside for one moment the question of who you seem to be; can you answer some questions? Can you tell us
    what's happened here, on this planet?"
    "I am Base Commander Jorgensson." The woman stood perfectly still. Her eyes were dead. "This world has been transformed. Transfigured. Become a world of possibilities and potentials. Nothing is certain anymore. Things come and go.
    All your dreams are here; including the bad ones. Welcome to the promised land."
    "I don't know if anyone else has noticed," said Barren quietly, "but she only breathes when she talks."
    "If you are Jorgensson," said Silence, stopping what he hoped was a respectful distance away from her, "why didn't you blow up Base Omega, as you intended?"
    "I did," said Jorgensson, her face and voice still utterly, inhumanly, calm.
    "The Base was destroyed, and everyone in it died. Including me."
    "I think I'd like to leave," said Morrell. "Right now."
    "Stand still, that man," said Silence. He looked at Carrion. "You try talking to her for a while. You have the most experience with dead things that insist on moving about and talking."
    "If you died," Carrion said calmly to Jorgensson, "who brought you back to life?"
    "Jesus raised me from the dust," said the dead woman. "So that we could talk.
    Communicate."
    "Good of him," said Morrell. "I think I feel sick. I don't suppose Jesus is still around anywhere, so we could ask him a few questions directly?"
    "Look behind you," said Jorgensson.
    They all spun around, and there before them, standing smiling in a simple rough tunic, was a tall, fine-featured man with long dark hair and a beard, and kind, knowing eyes. A crown of thorns rested lightly on his head, like a barbed halo, and when he raised a hand in greeting to the landing party, they could see the
    nail hole in his palm. He had an aura of wisdom and serenity, and his presence was like a cool breeze on a hot day. But the real clincher had to be the half a dozen winged angels hovering overhead, each a good twenty feet tall, in long flowing white gowns, with glowing halos and huge feathered wingspans.
    "Welcome to the world I have made for you," said Jesus, in a rich, warm, comforting voice. "Welcome to paradise."
    Silence looked at Morrell, who shook his head. "Don't look at me; I haven't got a clue what's going on. If there was a big enough rock around, I think I'd try and hide under it. He's not an illusion, he's quite real, but that's all I can tell you. His mind is closed to me. And if He is who He says, I think I'm rather glad about that. Try and make mental contact with the Son of God, and my brains would probably start leaking out my ears. Am I babbling? It sounds like I'm babbling."
    "He looks just like I always thought he would," said Barron softly.
    "Before anyone starts falling to their knees and shouting hosannas, allow me to point out that there is an alternative explanation," said Carrion, apparently unmoved. "We know that one man survived the Base explosion; the scientist Marlowe. Who infected himself with nanos programmed for