Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

wondering whether she’d have to jump-start his motivation for him, and some of the ideas she’d come up with had been particularly unpleasant. But then, as Diana Vertue or Jenny Psycho, she’d never hesitated to do the necessary thing—no matter how distasteful, or who might get hurt, including herself. She had learned her lessons well, in the old Empire torture cells of Silo Nine, also known as Worm-boy Hell.
    The rebellion needed a figurehead, and she’d always known it couldn’t be her. She might be an official legend, but people needed a leader they could feel comfortable around, and preferably one who didn’t have the word Psycho as part of her name. No one ever doubted her abilities as a fighter, but she’d be the first to admit she’d never been a people person. No, Douglas would do fine. With the right backup and guidance.
    She strode confidently over the border and into the Rookery, and the Church Militant guards on duty didn’t even try to stop her. She dropped her aversion meme to allow herself to be seen, and her power crackled on the air around her. The guards couldn’t run away fast enough. Some were even crossing themselves as they ran. Quite a few innocent citizens also took to their heels, on both sides of the border. Diana Vertue smiled. It was good to know she could still make an impression. She stopped and looked around her.
    She needed to make a different kind of impression now. Something dramatic, to announce the return of an old legend. It took her only a moment to reach out with her mind and find a thrall, a nondescript little man lurking inconspicuously in a doorway. Diana walked right up to him, froze his legs when he tried to run, and then blasted the possessing esper right out of the thrall’s mind. The ELF mind fled screaming, and the no-longer-possessed man fell forward onto his knees, shaking and sobbing but purely himself again. He tried to babble his thanks in between the tears running down his cheeks, but Diana had no time for that. More thralls were coming. She could feel them all around her, their thoughts buzzing like angry wasps from a disturbed nest. There were lots and lots of them, heading right for her. Diana smiled. She was just in the mood for a good workout.
    Possessed men and women came running at her from all directions, their faces twisted with the rage and passions of the possessing minds. Some had edged weapons, some had only their bare hands, but they all had murder on their ELF minds. Diana Vertue was their oldest enemy, and they would stop at nothing to kill her again. They pushed other people out of their way, striking out blindly, their gaze fixed on Diana as she stood before them, smiling calmly. She waited till they were almost upon her, and then summoned up her power. Psionic energies surged and crackled in the street around her, and her presence flowered like a rose made up of thorns. She was Diana Vertue, Jenny Psycho, the first human uber-esper. She had touched the minds of the AIs of Shub and brought them back to sanity. She fought the Recreated to a standstill. She had been betrayed and murdered, lived on in the oversoul, and now was back again, to deal with unfinished business. Let the thralls come. Let them all come. She was Diana Vertue, her time come round again, and she would show these miserable new ELFs what power really was.
    Only she never got the chance. The thralls came charging down the street, and boiled out of the side alleys to surround her. They called her name in angry vicious voices, and boasted of the terrible things they were going to do to her. Diana Vertue gathered up her power, and then stopped, astonished, as a dozen young women in brightly colored silks appeared out of nowhere. They materialized in a protective circle around Diana, lightning crackling in their hands. They wore black roses in their hair, and tribal patterns painted on their faces. They struck the same impressive pose and glared haughtily at the stunned thralls. They gestured grandly, and a psi storm of exploding energies roared up and down the street, picking up thralls and throwing them away, tossing the helpless bodies around like rag dolls. The ELF minds screamed with rage and fear, but they could not stand against the power of the newcomers. The twelve women gestured almost contemptuously, and the possessing minds were thrust out of their stolen bodies, and sent howling off into the night.
    The psi storm slowly abated, and the air grew settled