Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

of
    comforting lies?"
    "We share your grief," said the robot. "We have been mourning the loss of Owen Deathstalker, who really did do most of the things they said he did, for over two hundred years now. Shall we continue with the recording?"
    Lewis nodded numbly, and history moved again on the viewscreen before him. Captain Silence was speaking again.
    "Oh shut up, Robert. You know very well you never liked him. What matters is, he died to save us all.
    Because of him, the Recreated are human again, and their planets are restored. The war is over.
    Humanity is safe. Owen . . . was my enemy more often than he was my ally; but I always respected him.
    And he may just have saved us one more time. He sent back a message and a warning, through this unknown voice. Backed up by hard evidence, fed directly into my computers.
    "The Terror is coming. A threat from outside our galaxy, greater than Shub or the Recreated could ever be. A threat the Madness Maze and the Grendels were created specifically to oppose. The Terror has wiped out whole civilizations, whole worlds, whole species. And they're coming here next. Humanity must prepare itself, must . . . evolve into something better, greater, or we won't survive either.
    "The Terror might come tomorrow, or next year or a thousand years from now. We must prepare.
    Owen said so. Perhaps his last, dying words. I know you don't want to hear this now. You have an Empire to rebuild. But this is important. It matters. We'll discuss it further when I get back to Golgotha.
    Don't expect me anytime soon. My ship's had the crap kicked out of it. And most of my crew are dead
    ... or dying. We won our war, Robert, but we paid for it with the loss of our bravest and our best. We will never see their like again."
    The scene froze, and then the viewscreen disappeared. For a while, all was still and silent in the clearing of the technojungle. Lewis was leaning forward, as though bent over an aching stomach, staring at the floor between his feet. He felt as though he'd been hit repeatedly, and everything he ever valued taken roughly from him. The robot waited patiently.
    "The . . . information, that Silence said had been placed in his computers, from outside," Lewis said finally, his voice little more than a whisper. "Did it tell what happened to Owen, on his journey back through Time? Did it tell where and how and when he died?"
    "We never saw it," said the robot. "Captain Silence removed the data from his ship's computers. If he ever did show it to King Robert, no copy was ever made."
    Lewis looked up, frowning. "Why would he do that? Why would Silence suppress information intended to protect Humanity?"
    "Unknown. He never consulted with us. Perhaps he did not trust us. Or King Robert. Either way, the data vanished with his death, some years later."
    Lewis glared at the robot, suddenly so angry he could barely speak. "You've known, all this time, that Owen was dead. That our faith in his return was just a cruel lie. Why didn't you ever say anything?"
    "Because King Robert and Queen Constance asked us not to," the robot said simply. "Because the legend they so carefully created obviously meant so much to Humanity. There was an Empire to rebuild.
    Your King and Queen believed you needed legends to inspire you, far more than you needed the truth.
    We could have spoken out, after Robert and Constance were gone, but it was clear that Owen's legend meant so much to you all. You wanted, needed, to believe that Owen was still out there somewhere, and might someday return. We just . . . didn't have the heart to tell you. And now it's up to you, Lewis. Will you tell King Douglas, and your Parliament, that the blessed Owen is dead?"
    Lewis thought about it. What could he say? When he got right down to it, he had no proof. The Shub had no evidence to back up what they'd shown him on the viewscreen. The AIs had admitted they'd lied to Humanity before, when they felt they had good reason. It could all be nothing but a very clever fake.
    But somehow Lewis didn't think so. What he'd seen and listened to so painfully had had the ring of authenticity. Owen . . . was dead. He wouldn't be coming back in triumph, in the nick of time, to save Humanity in the hour of their greatest need. He wouldn't be there, to stand between Humanity and the Terror. Perhaps that was why he'd sent the warning in the first place.
    Lewis sighed heavily. He couldn't tell anyone that. The bitter truth . . . would crush Humanity's