Deathstalker 06 - Deathstalker Legacy

nightmares.
    Several doctors had had to retire from the case, hurt, three had retired to start their own religions, and one had had a mystical epiphany and a sex change. Everyone currently working with Donal Corcoran got hazard pay. Direct exposure to the man was strictly limited, and all admittance papers to the institution where he was being held were stamped ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
    No one had expected Corcoran to survive his dreadful experiences unscathed, of course. But it was becoming more and more vital that the nature and extent of his change be understood, before the Terror appeared again. Douglas in particular needed to know whether Corcoran's unique condition was the result of stress, strain, and shock ... or whether Corcoran was the inevitable result of even long-range contact with the Terror. The populations of the attacked Rim worlds had been driven insane by the presence of the Terrors appalling heralds, but Corcoran had been right at the edge of the solar system, racing towards hyperspace and safety. He should have been out of range, and safe . . . but he had looked back, through his probes, and seen the Gorgon. He had looked into the face of the Medusa.
    Could just that have been enough to make Corcoran into something other than human? Douglas needed to know.
    He had other worries too. All across the Empire, worlds in the line of the Terror's projected approach path were spending every credit they had, or could borrow, on upgrading their planetary defense systems to the maximum limit. They were buying attack ships, weapons and orbiting mines and force shields, and every defensive and offensive safeguard known to Humanity. Some were even pinning their hopes on strange unproven devices of alien origin. The Rim worlds' defenses had been no use at all, but then, they'd been far short of state of the art.
    When the Recreated were freed from their awful state by the blessed Owen, their humanity and their planets restored in a moment, they were of course hundreds of years behind everyone else. And even after two centuries of determined self-improvement, and a hell of a lot of Imperial grant money, they still
    hadn't caught up entirely. So an awful lot of worlds were planning to protect themselves with cutting-edge weapons tech, and to hell with what it cost them. What did the future matter? If the Terror came and found them wanting, none of them would have a future.
    Douglas wasn't convinced any of this would help. Neither were most of these worlds' representatives in the House. But if it kept people busy, and offered them a modicum of hope and security . . . better economic stupidity than mass panic. Douglas, however, remembered the most important lesson of Empire. First; know thine enemy. So he decided he needed to see Donal Corcoran for himself, hear what the man had to say firsthand. He didn't tell the House. They'd just throw a major hissy fit at the prospect of the King putting himself into possible danger, and order him not to go. So he decided not to worry them, and go anyway. He didn't even tell Anne.
    Armed guards, heavy-duty tanglefields and force shields, and even a few portable disrupter cannon guarded the asylum holding Donal Corcoran, as much to keep people out as keep him in. The media had been using every trick in the book to try and get to him, and there were any number of fanatical groups and individuals ready to use any method to force their way in. Some wanted to kill Corcoran, in case he was somehow infected by the Terror and had brought its evil back with him. Some claimed he was a judas goat, leading the Terror to its prey. Some wanted to worship him, for being touched by God. Some wanted to kidnap and interrogate him, in the hope of learning useful information about the Terror, which they could then sell to the threatened worlds. And a few wanted to marry him. People will do the craziest things ... if they're scared enough.
    Douglas wasn't crazy enough to go in there alone. He'd felt the need for specialist help on this one. So he contacted the oversoul, and they sent him a top-level telepath to assist and protect him. This turned out to be a tall strapping brunette who dressed in sweeping black silks, and sported jet black lips and heavy eye makeup. She also wore a bandolier of silver throwing stars, carried a disrupter on her hip, and had steel-toe capped boots. She was at least a head taller than Douglas, and radiated so much sheer presence that when she walked into a room it