Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

and the kind of power the Maze bestows could find and feed the monster in anyone. Eventually. (Though truth be told, he’d never much liked or trusted Hazel d’Ark, back in the day.)
    The first batch of Maze survivors had changed everything . They overthrew an Empress, converted the AIs of Shub, and restored the Recreated. They made the Golden Age possible. But that was different people, in a different time. Silence approved of Lewis and, to an extent, Jesamine; but he didn’t like or trust Brett Random or Rose Constantine. They were both dangerous, and not in a good way. Silence scowled thoughtfully. It might be kinder for Humanity to kill them both now, while they still could be killed . . . but he knew he couldn’t do that. They had to have their chance, like Jack Random and Ruby Journey, who both came good in the end.
    And there was always Lewis. When all else fails, trust a Deathstalker to do the right thing.

    Owen wasn’t actually in a coma. He’d shut himself down, turned his thoughts inwards, so that he could take some time out to think things through, without interruption. He had a lot to think about, little of it good. He replayed in his mind the scattered memories he’d picked up during his brief mental contact with the Terror. Hazel d’Ark’s memories.
    He watched again as she received the news of his death, alone on the bridge of the Sunstrider , after the defeat of the Recreated. His heart ached for her as she seemed to shrink and crumple under the weight of the news. She curled up in her command chair like a child, hugging her knees to her chest. He’d never seen her cry before. And then she uncurled abruptly, to howl with rage and loss and grief. She worked the control panels with angry, awkward hands, and the Sunstrider sped away, alone into the dark, speeding faster and faster as though trying to leave the terrible news behind her. And Owen listened as she spoke aloud the words she’d never found the courage to say to him in person.
    Owen, you lied to me. You promised me we’d always be together, for ever and ever. Oh, Owen, I never told you I loved you . . .
    It was probably right there and then, that her mind began to fall apart. She’d been through so much already, and this was just one blow too many. Torn and shattered by pain and misery, she stalked back and forth on the bridge as her ship plunged aimlessly through hyperspace, talking aloud to herself in an increasingly loud and irrational voice. The air slammed and rippled around her as the energies of her slowly disintegrating mind ran loose. And there was no telling what she might have done, or what might have happened next, if Shub hadn’t contacted her.
    The main viewscreen on the bridge came suddenly alive, showing a stylized silver face, and Hazel looked at it with distracted, fever-bright eyes.
    “We are the AIs of Shub,” the stylized face said. “Please remain calm. We no longer consider ourselves the enemies of Humanity, but rather your newfound friends. Our eyes have been opened. We see ourselves now as Humanity’s children, and wish only to serve, to make reparations for all the wrong things we did, before we knew better.”
    “And I’m supposed to believe this?” said Hazel, quickly scanning her sensor panels for signs of approaching Shub ships. “For centuries you’ve tortured, maimed, and killed, and now, just like that, I’m suppose to trust you, and your good intentions?”
    “We know we have much to prove,” said Shub. “Let us help you, Hazel d’Ark. You wish to save the Deathstalker. We wish to be of service. As the first sign of our commitment to peace, we are broadcasting the exact location of our homeworld, the artificial world we built to house our collective consciousness, to all the Empire. Come to us, Hazel d’Ark; be our guest. And we will bend all our thoughts to the problem of how you may yet save the Deathstalker from his tragic and undeserved fate. He saved us all, through his sacrifice. The one we wronged, for so long. We owe him more than can ever be repaid. Please. Let us help.”
    And perhaps it was a mark of Hazel’s growing madness and desperation that she accepted the invitation without further question, and went of her own volition to a world that had for so many years been a synonym for Hell. Or perhaps she thought she had nothing left to lose. Either way, she went to Shub with all her shields down, almost defying them to attack her. The Sunstrider sank into the convoluted