Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

like screaming, like laughing and crying at the same time. He wanted to run away and hide, and let someone else deal with it, because it was just too much for him ... but he didn't.
    Because he was a Deathstalker. Because he was the Champion. Because people depended on him, just as they had once depended on his ancestor, the blessed Owen. Lewis clamped down hard on his teetering thoughts, and made himself concentrate on the things he could handle. He still had questions, things he needed to know.
    He plunged back into the House's records, forcing open old classified files with his Champion's authority, ransacking long-sealed and secret bureaus he would never have even dared approach before, but found little there of any real use. The blessed Owen had never said anything about what the Terror actually was, only that it was coming, and that the whole of Humanity had to prepare itself to fight the Terror when it arrived. That Humanity might have to evolve, even transcend itself, through the Madness Maze, just to survive the Terror's coming. Of course, no one knew what the blessed Owen's actual original words had been. He'd vanished when the Darkvoid was broken and the lost planets returned, the Recreated saved and restored. His words came via his old ally, Captain John Silence. Also long gone, and no one knew where or why.
    King Douglas made a sharp gesture, and the viewscreen disappeared. The House stirred, as though the honorable Members were slowly waking from a nightmare. Only to find it was all horribly real. They looked shocked, stunned, beaten down. Small men and women, entirely unprepared to face the greatest threat there had ever been to Humanity's existence. They looked at each other, but no one had anything to say, so they looked to their King. Douglas sat straight-backed on his Throne, and looked steadily back at them.
    "First of all; get a grip on yourselves," he said harshly. "There's no indication the Terror can break light speed. Which means it's still a long way out. It'll take weeks just to get to the next set of populated worlds. We can evacuate them, or fortify them, as we decide. We have time, to think and plan. To do our duty, and our jobs. The Terror is ... unsettling. But we are not without resources. And we will not be taken by surprise."
    "Send the Fleet!" said a shrill voice from somewhere in the House. "Wait for that thing to reappear, and then blow it away!"
    Other voices rose quickly in agreement, only to die away again as King Douglas shook his head.
    "We can't risk sending the Imperial Fleet to intercept the Terror. We can't send any ships. In fact, I think we should recall all ships in the area, for now, as a precaution. Once a ship approaches the Terror, or its creatures, the crews on those ships will just fall under its influence. Do you really want Imperial starcruisers, with hyperdrive and disrupter cannon, running wild in the main systems, crewed by homicidal maniacs? No; we send drones, steered by remote control. That goes for you too, Shub. AIs are just as vulnerable as human minds. Does the House have any more ... practical suggestions?"
    People started shouting immediately, some with ideas, some with objections, most just for the comfort of saying something. The House quickly descended into bedlam. Douglas tried to be the voice of reason, but couldn't make himself heard. He leaned back in his Throne and let them get on with it. Let them get it out of their system. It soon became clear no one had anything useful to offer, and they were just shouting at each other; taking their fear and anger and helplessness out on old rivals and enemies. The various alien species were just as distressed, and just as conflicted over what they should or could do. The Terror had come, and found everyone wanting.
    This is what the Deathstalker warned us of! Come now, in our lifetime, after all! We should have listened! We never really believed, and now it's here! And we're not ready!
    King Douglas sank further back in his Throne. He didn't feel ready either. He'd only just been made King. He was still learning how to do his job, dammit. He shouldn't have to deal with something as important as this, as vital as this, so early in his reign. He didn't know what to do. It wasn't fair. Briefly, he cursed the blessed Owen, and all his fellow Maze people, for not being around when they were needed.
    Douglas could feel the shakes starting in his hands again, and gripped the arms of his Throne tightly. It