Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

that the combined fleet was now heading towards Logres with the express intent of kicking him off his throne, and when he was sure he’d heard every detail, he beat the messenger to death with his bare hands, and went raging through the corridors of his palace with sword and gun in hand, killing everyone he came across. Even his most loyal followers fled, rather than face his incandescent rage. Even his bodyguards disappeared. After a very long time, Finn just ran out of energy. He slumped against a blood-spattered wall, breathing heavily, gore dripping thickly from the blade in his hand, and finally decided he’d vented enough for one day. He trudged wearily back to his private quarters, and poured himself several large brandies.
    He put away his sword without bothering to clean it, and laughed shakily. It had been a long time since he’d let the beast run loose like that. But he couldn’t afford to indulge himself anymore. He had to think . . . He picked up the only intact chair, set it on its legs again, and sat down.
    It all came down to Douglas. If he could kill the ex-King before the combined fleet arrived, he’d be able to negotiate from a position of strength. With the Terror on its way, the Empire needed a strong man on the throne. They had to know that. And with Douglas gone, who else was there who could do the job? The runaway Deathstalker? Finn thought not.
    He smiled slowly, the last of the tension easing out of his muscles. He could deal with Douglas. He knew how the Campbell thought, what reached him, and what moved him. After all, they’d been friends and colleagues for so long . . . Finn understood Douglas, and Douglas only thought he understood Finn. So setting a trap to lure Douglas in, and then kill him, shouldn’t be any problem at all.

    Finn went to talk to Anne Barclay. This meant talking to Dr. Happy as well, which was unfortunate. The good doctor had continued to deteriorate, and was now barely a shadow of his former self. Finn entered the private and very secure laboratory he maintained in the palace for the doctor and his patient, and found Dr. Happy scrabbling around on the floor on all fours, searching for some bit of him that had fallen off. Finn had to call the doctor’s name several times before he responded, and then he lurched reluctantly back onto his feet again. There wasn’t a lot of Dr. Happy left. He wore nothing but his stained and crumpled lab coat, revealing a shriveled and desiccated body with holes in it, topped by a face that was little more than a skull with strands of wispy flyaway hair. The nose and ears were gone, the lips just pale tatters. Dr. Happy waggled his remaining fingers at Finn in a friendly manner, peering at him uncertainly with sunken, piss yellow eyes.
    “So good to see you again, Finn! Yes! I’ve been working on a marvelous new experiment that will allow us to plug in other people’s organs as backup spare parts . . . imagine what you could do if your body contained three hearts and two livers . . . I have broken the compatibility barrier! I have! You’ll see, before long I’ll have made a new man of myself! The tech keeps me going, of course, but it lacks a certain . . . something. Flesh is the key to all mysteries.”
    “Well,” said Finn. “That’s all very demented, but I have business to be about. How is Anne?”
    “A work of art, if I say so myself. You could put her up against a Hadenman now, and make a killing on the side bets. Go and have a nice chat, while I try and find my genitals.”
    Finn made a wide circle around Dr. Happy, and let himself into the reinforced steel vault they’d built at the back of the lab to contain the rebuilt Anne Barclay. He found her standing still and silent in the middle of the room, staring at nothing, not even the mirror. For a long time the addition of the synthesized Boost to her many tech implants had made her restless and suddenly violent, but the mood seemed to have passed. At least, there didn’t seem to be any new dents in the steel walls. Finn approached her cautiously.
    “Hello, Anne. How are we doing today?”
    “I don’t know about you,” said Anne, not looking round, “but I’m fighting the voices in my head. Dr. Happy put computers in me, to help run my various servomechanisms, and I can hear them whining away at the back of my thoughts. I’m fighting a civil war in my head, and I fear I may be losing. Why did you do this to me, Finn?”
    “I couldn’t let you