Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

high walkways, every building a work of art. New Hope; almost too beautiful a city for human eyes.
    Emma Steel slowed her sled's approach, allowing her to study the city from what she hoped was still a safe distance. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she said back over her shoulder. "This is an exclusively esper city. Humans aren't welcome, mostly."
    "It is a risk," Joy admitted, peering diffidently past her at the city of lights spread out before them.
    "Hopefully the espers will see me as being sufficiently different from baseline Humanity to accept my temporary presence. New Hope has always been a place of sanctuary for those who are gifted and in need. I think when they see what's in my head, what I know, and the things that I have seen of yesterday and tomorrow, they'll want me to stay. Certainly the oversoul is one of the few forces in the Empire powerful enough to protect me from everything the Angel will be sending after me."
    "The Angel? You mean Angelo Bellini, the Angel of Madraguda? He's the one who put the death mark on you? What the hell have you got on him; vid footage of him prancing about in women's underwear at a Hellfire Club dinner dance?"
    "Nothing so amusing," said Joy, regretfully. "If the espers won't take me, I suppose there's always the clones; but they don't have New Hope's formidable defenses. And their dress sense is appalling."
    "You know, you're sounding very rational, all of a sudden," said Emma.
    "I find stark terror concentrates the mind wonderfully," said Joy. "Don't worry. It won't last."
    The city grew before them as they approached cautiously, keeping to a clearly nonthreatening speed.
    The hairs on the back of Emma's neck stirred, anticipating the psionic assault she probably wouldn't even have time to feel. The espers should have more sense than to attack the authority a Paragon represented, but she was most definitely where she shouldn't be, and after the Neuman riot, everyone was on edge and looking for trouble. The sled crossed the city perimeter and headed steadily towards the official landing pads, and Emma let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. If the espers were going to stop her, they would have done it by now. Unless the oversoul was planning something really unpleasant, to make an example of her and her companion . . .
    The city unfolded constantly before them, like a glorious flower. New Hope had a strong, almost overwhelming sense of presence. As though it was more real, more there, than anywhere else in the material world. It glowed fiercely, as though illuminated from within by its own vitality. The city hummed loudly, in the ear and in the mind, like the sound of a great engine, endlessly turning. Emma found that disturbing. She knew that New Hope had no generators, no reactors, no artificial power sources of any kind. The city, all of it, was powered and maintained and levitated by the espers themselves. The oversoul was a living power source, generated from living minds, and thus utterly independent from the rest of Logres, and indeed, the rest of the Empire.
    Emma steered her sled carefully between the elegant towers soaring up all around her, impossibly high, wonderfully crafted from glass and steel and precious metals. Every structure was a thing of beauty and a joy to behold. People flew in and out of the buildings, soaring gracefully through the air without the need for cumbersome technology. Down on the streets, people appeared and disappeared, came and went in a moment, teleporting in and out in the blink of an eye. And everywhere, men and women looked at objects, which moved or disappeared or burst into flames. No machines, no tech, anywhere in New Hope. They weren't needed. New Hope had moved beyond reliance upon such things.
    Emma Steel brought her sled down to rest on the edge of the city's landing pads, and only then paused to wonder how she'd been able to find her way there. She'd never been in New Hope before. Someone had placed the information in her mind. She shuddered despite herself, then stepped down from the sled and made a point of glaring about her. She was a Paragon, dammit, and entitled to a proper and respectful reception. She was also an entirely unwanted guest, so she stayed where she was. Dignity was one thing; arrogance would only get her killed. Or worse. The oversoul guarded its secrets jealously.
    That was, after all, why she'd brought the Ecstatic here. Even the Angel of Madraguda couldn't afford to get the