Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

I brought as the base for their genetic structure.”
    “Whose cells are they?” said du Katt.
    “Mine, of course,” said Finn. “I have decided I want children. Lots and lots of them.” He laughed, and clapped the shaking du Katt on the shoulder. “Congratulate me! I’m going to be a father!”

    His next visit was to another laboratory he’d had moved to the palace, for security reasons. The owner hadn’t wanted to move, but it’s amazing how persuasive a gun pointed at the groin can be. And so, that renowned drug dealer, alchemist, and complete head case Dr. Happy now worked exclusively for Finn, in a brand-new lab with every convenience money could buy. Much to the sorrow of his many other customers. It had to be said that Dr. Happy wasn’t entirely the man he’d once been, before his long sojourn on Haden, in the proximity of the Madness Maze. But there was no denying he still possessed the most unique scientific mind in the Empire. And these days the good doctor labored tirelessly on a single project: the rebuilding of Anne Barclay.
    Anne had been very nearly killed by the wreckage that fell on her during Douglas Campbell’s daring escape through the roof of the court. Anyone else probably would have died, given how long it took to get her to a regeneration tank. But the tank kept her hovering on the edge of death, while Dr. Happy turned his twisted mind to the problem. Finn had instructed Dr. Happy to go to any lengths to save Anne, so that was exactly what he did. What he could not cure or repair, he replaced or rebuilt, no matter how extreme the measures necessary. He worked wonders, pulling Anne back from the brink of the grave again and again, but unfortunately he couldn’t resist the impulse to re-create her in amusing ways. The good doctor had been influenced by his prolonged proximity to the Madness Maze, and it showed in his work. He had also taken to using himself as a test subject for all the new drugs he developed, on the grounds that the only way to fully understand the effects was to experience them firsthand.
    One of the drugs killed him. Another brought him back. Or so he said. Either way, the end result was that Dr. Happy was now a walking, rotting corpse, within which his slowly decaying brilliant mind misfired from time to time. Implanted tech from dubious sources and a whole series of experimental new drugs kept him going, but his flesh continued to slowly mummify despite all his best efforts to rejuvenate it. Dr. Happy didn’t care. He savored the sensations of decay through preternaturally sharpened senses, and boasted that his new outlook on life—or rather death—gave him all kinds of new insights.
    The sight that greeted Finn, as he entered the heavily guarded laboratory, would have shaken and sickened anyone else. Gone were the days of shining new tech and pristine equipment. The shadowed chamber was packed with animal cages and stank like a slaughterhouse. Experimental animals peered dolefully from the cages, while others lay scattered across the lab tables in various states of completion. Dr. Happy had been taking them apart and putting them back together in interesting new combinations, to see what would happen. Mostly they died, but he said he was learning a lot in the process.
    Finn strode unhurriedly through the lab, peering dubiously at the latest assemblies pinned to the tables, and then looked up as Dr. Happy came tottering forward to greet him. The good doctor wore nothing but his chemical-stained lab coat over his emaciated, rotting body. Dark blotches covered the gray skin, and occasionally pale glimpses of bone showed through. Most of his white hair had fallen out, his sunken eyes were as yellow as urine, and his lips had drawn back from his teeth, turning his permanent smile into a rictus. He moved in sudden darting flurries, never still for a moment, filled with some terrible, remorseless energy.
    “So good to see you again, Finn! Yes! Yes! Oh, happy day . . . We’re making progress here, definitely making progress. Don’t look at the rabbit; I never expected it to work. The other head was just a whim. You’ve come to see Anne, I presume? Yes, yes, I know, no time for chat. I see ghosts, you know.”
    Finn paused, and looked at Dr. Happy. This was a new turn. “Ghosts?” he said carefully.
    “Oh, yes. Spirits of the dead, restless souls of the departed, that sort of thing.” Dr. Happy spun round in a circle, flapping his bony hands as though