Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

his back and sword arm. He’d never been in a fight that lasted as long as this.
    Stuart was wearing his old Paragon uniform and body armor, and his purple cloak flapped proudly about him. Jas Sri had used his media contacts to track the uniform down, and returned it to Stuart. (In these days of mass shortages and hunger, pretty much everything was being put up for sale somewhere.) Jas had cleaned and polished the uniform to within an inch of its life, and presented it to Stuart just before they had to leave the Rookery. Stuart had been touched, and he and Jas had held each other for a long time, knowing it might be the last time they ever saw each other again. Eventually they let go, and Jas helped buckle Stuart into the armor.
    Stuart stood his ground at the top of the entrance steps, while his men fell about him, swinging his sword with a fierce and dogged energy. He faced impossible odds with a smile upon his face, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like a Paragon again.
    Nina Malapert hovered behind him, sheltering in the open entrance doorway, popping out now and again to blast a whole clump of thralls into bloody pieces with her really big gun. Her news cameras were floating above the scene, broadcasting everything live to worlds across the Empire. She kept up a breathless running commentary, gun in one hand and sword in another, ready to rush out and guard Stuart’s back when necessary. She wasn’t much of a fighter, as such, but like every other able-bodied person in the Rookery, she’d been given basic weapons training. And she’d gone out with everyone else to fight, partly because she was damned if she’d miss such a great story, and partly because there was no place in the city now for observers. She had killed some thralls, and was ready to kill some more, but for now she felt it was more important to see that her news site covered what was happening. So that win or lose, the others worlds would know that at least Logres went down fighting.
    Even Jas Sri, that slender and delicate media tech, had picked up a sword and gone out of the Rookery to fight. He was as much a danger to himself as anyone else with a sword in his hand, but he went anyway, because he was needed. Stuart had quietly arranged for Jas to be a part of one of the biggest armed groups, without telling him that of course, but Stuart and Jas both knew that there was nowhere safe in the city anymore.
    The Psycho Sluts hovered in the sky above the palace, holding rigid formation as their minds linked together. Their leader, Alessandra Duquesne, had brought them here against Diana Vertue’s specific orders, because much as they adored her, the Sluts had their own idea on how to stop the fighting, once and for all. They were going to pool and combine their power, and hit the uber-espers below with everything they had, condensed into one unstoppable blow. The uber-espers would lose contact with their thralls, might even be damaged or destroyed, and the invasion would be over. The young ladies of the Psycho Sluts had discussed this plan in earnest and at some length. They knew some or all of them might die during the attack, or after, but they had sworn a vow to be worthy of their idol, Jenny Psycho, and this seemed just the sort of thing she would have done. So they put their minds together, raised and harnessed their power till it crackled on the air around them, and then struck down at the uber-espers in the palace.
    The attack went wrong almost immediately. Contact with the minds of the uber-espers blew their gestalt apart in a moment. The young espers just weren’t prepared for the sheer otherness of the uber-espers. And they had no idea how powerful these five monsters had become, down the centuries. The Psycho Sluts’ attack fragmented, the mental shards thrown back in their faces. A single whiplash of power smashed through the Psycho Sluts’ defenses, ripping through their minds like barbed wire. Some went mad, pinwheeling away through the sky, screaming and howling words with no meaning. Some exploded into flames, burning inside and out, and fell to the ground like thrashing kicking comets. Three just exploded into bloody gobbets. And that left just the two most powerful minds in the Psycho Sluts: Alessandra Duquesne and her oldest and dearest friend, Joanna Maltravers. Alessandra fought off the mental attack, retreating deep into her mind and concentrating all her power into defensive shields. Her body convulsed