Deathstalker 07 - Deathstalker Return

enemies of Humanity. Most of the records of that time were lost, thanks to King Robert and Queen Constance, but stories still survived, dark horrific tales of what Shub had done to humans, in the bad old days.
    Price sat down in his captain's chair, and locked his hands together in his lap to keep them still. This was
    supposed to be an easy mission. Just pick up a handful of traitors and bring them back for trial. The overwhelming odds should have precluded any trouble. And now Price was staring down the barrel of a gun, and wondering if he'd ever see his home again. If Shub really had returned to their bad old ways, this could be the start of a new interstellar war. Price took a deep breath, and tried to remember his old training. And wondered whether he would have the guts to behave like a real captain, at last.
    Down on Haden, Jesamine glared at Owen, and demanded "Do something!"
    "Like what?" Owen said reasonably. "Captain Silence, why does everyone here keep looking at me like I'm the Second Coming? Is there by any chance something you haven't been meaning to tell me?"
    "Ah," said Silence. "Yes… Basically, you and I and all of those who were major players in the Great Rebellion against the Empress Lionstone… have been made into legends. By official decree. King Robert and Queen Constance decided that legends, not history, were needed to inspire the people to build a better Empire from the ruins of the old. So all the histories of that time were destroyed, lost, forgotten.
    And the legends have grown and grown over the centuries. You and I are creatures of myth now, Owen.
    They worship our statues, and pray for us to return from the dead and save them from the Terror, because that's what legends do."
    His voice trailed away under Owen's icy glare. "And you went along with this?" Owen said softly, dangerously.
    "I had no choice," Silence said steadily. "They were my King and my Queen."
    Owen sniffed. "You always were overimpressed by authority figures, Silence." He turned away and gave the others a stern glare. "All right, people, listen up. Time for an object lesson in the way things really are.
    Even in my time, the media were claiming I could do all kinds of things I couldn't, and making me into some kind of selfless hero or saint. I never was either of those things; just a poor bastard caught between a rock and a hard place, doing his best to stay alive long enough for a chance to do the right thing."
    "But you did do miracles," said Silence. "I saw some of them."
    "Sometimes, yes," said Owen. "But the point is, I can't just wave my hand and make the fleet go away.
    Now, if they're dumb enough to send down ground troops, I can almost definitely guarantee to send a whole load of them crying home to their mothers, but I'm not invincible or all-powerful. I never was."
    "Then we're screwed," said Jesamine.
    "But… you went through the Maze!" said Lewis. "It changed you, remade you!"
    "Yes, it did," said Owen. "And not necessarily for the better. I always thought it was more important to be humane than superhuman."
    "But you did do incredible things," said Silence.
    Owen ignored him, looking at Lewis. "You—tell me what it means now, to be a Deathstalker."
    Lewis stumbled for a moment, caught off guard. "The same as it always has," he said finally. "Duty, honor, and kicking the crap out of the bad guys."
    Owen had to smile. "You were raised as a warrior, weren't you, Lewis?"
    "Of course. We all are, in the Clan. In remembrance of you."
    "That's the difference between us," said Owen. "I never wanted to be a warrior. I would have been happy to be just a minor historian, a scholar in his ivory tower, of no importance to anyone. But events destroyed my life and put a sword in my hand, so I did the best I could. I brought down a corrupt Empire, and all it cost me was everything." He shook his head slowly. "Tell me about the Terror."
    Lewis and Jesamine took it in turns to tell Owen of the arrival of the Terror, its awful nature, and the two planets it had eaten so far. Of the millions dead, and the civilizations destroyed. Owen scowled fiercely.
    Silence took over, telling of how a voice had come to them after the last great battle against the Recreated, foretelling the coming of the Terror. Owen smiled suddenly.
    "I smell the intervention of a certain shape-shifting alien there. You say the voice downloaded actual information into your ship's computers?"
    "Yes," said Silence. "Unfortunately…"
    "Oh, don't tell