Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

elements among his crews. Knew it even before the loyalist graffiti began appearing down below. He had security people looking into the problem, but he doubted it would come to anything. If the loyalists were a real problem, he would have known by now. Silence knew all kinds of things, except how to be the legend that everyone else needed him to be. He was a soldier, and that was all that ever really mattered to him. But he’d already noticed some of his crew studying him covertly, hoping for miracles, and interpreting even his most innocent remarks as signs or prophecies. It was to avoid just such nonsense that he’d faked his death over a hundred years ago.
    Captain Price kept wanting to hover at his side, but Silence kept him busy with other duties. Partly because he needed someone willing to deal with all the scutwork that Silence couldn’t be bothered with, like seeing all the loyalist graffiti was cleaned off the down-below walls, but mostly because Captain Price got on Silence’s nerves. He was just too amiable, too obliging, always too ready and eager to serve. Silence knew his sort. They’d been rife in Lionstone’s day. Political soldiers, ready to bow with every breeze, and side with whoever looked most like the winning team. Such men were to be made use of, but never trusted.
    And besides, there had only ever been room for one person at Silence’s side. Ever since he’d taken his place in the command chair on the bridge of the Havoc , Silence had seemed to feel Investigator Frost standing beside him, as she always had. Silence didn’t believe in ghosts, but sometimes the sense of her presence was so real, so overwhelming, he felt he could just reach out and touch her. It had been over two hundred years since Frost had died in his arms, in Lionstone’s terrible Court, cut down by Kit SummerIsle, the infamous Kid Death. She had bled to death in his arms, and there had been nothing he could do, nothing at all.
    I wanted to die, Captain. Surely you knew that? Her calm dry voice was perfectly clear.
    Hush, Investigator. I’ve got enough problems without the dead popping round for a chat.
    Don’t flatter yourself, Captain. I’m here because you need me, just as you always did. Never could resist backing the long odds, could you? It’s a wonder to me you’ve lasted as long as you have. Haven’t you fought enough battles, old man?
    I belong here, Silence thought stubbornly. I was always at my best with a starship under my command.
    Still looking for a good death, Captain? For a cause worth dying for?
    Maybe, Investigator. He looked around, carefully casual, but of course she wasn’t there. Silence felt himself shrink a little, in his chair. Not a legend, not even a hero. Just an old, tired man, hearing voices. Owen, you brought the Ashrai back from extinction, and revitalized their world. You gave new life to the Recreated and all their worlds. Why didn’t you bring back the only woman I ever really loved? I never thought to ask, and by the time I did it was too late. You were gone. Everyone lost someone in the Rebellion; I know that. But I gave so much; couldn’t I have had just one small thing for myself?
    There was never anyone else in his long life, after Frost. Not because he’d sworn a vow, or anything like that; but because he’d never felt the same way about anyone else. There’d never been anyone like the tall, unbending, magnificent Investigator Frost. They’d made an excellent partnership in their time, achieved many great things, and more than a few ignoble ones. Life had been like that, under Lionstone XIV. He’d never told Frost how he felt about her. She was an Investigator, and all such emotions were alien to her. Probably.
    And then, it had been so hard to stay young, while everyone else grew old around him. All his old friends died, and he never seemed to have much in common with the new people springing up around him. Even his daughter died. Diana Vertue, also known as Jenny Psycho. They’d never been . . . close, but he still missed her. He had seen the birth and flowering of a Golden Age, and had found pride in being Humanity’s secret guardian. Always believing he might be needed again, always hoping he was wrong. And now here he was, a soldier again and heading into battle, knowing that the only sure thing in this new rebellion was that good men and women were bound to die, on both sides.
    Diana Vertue, much to his surprise, had been reported back from the dead and