Deathstalker 08 - Deathstalker Coda

barrel chest, and razor-edged blades lined the arms and legs. And yet the gold armor was seamless, moving smoothly and easily. The metal shape was clearly alive. Owen looked at Dominic.
    “What is that, please?”
    “That’s Glory,” said Dominic. “She’s put on her enforcement body—organic metal with built-in weaponry. We all have many bodies these days, remember? I’ll put on a more appropriate body in a moment.”
    “How many bodies do you both have?” said Owen, fascinated.
    “I have twenty-seven. Glory has forty-three. Our work requires us to be flexible. We keep them in a subspace locker, and pop them on as necessary. You didn’t think I looked like this all the time, did you?”
    And just like that, he became someone else too. Still basically human, still pale blue, Dominic now inhabited a more perfect, idealized form. Something about this new, calmly smiling face, and the subtle body language, made Owen want to listen to whatever this new Dominic had to say. He wanted to agree with Dominic, and do anything that might please him. Owen shook his head sharply. A lot of the body language was subliminal, working directly on the subconscious, but Owen could see it clearly, and shrugged it off. He glared at Dominic, who smiled easily.
    “Congratulations,” he said, in a wonderfully warm and friendly voice. “Most people can’t even see what I’m doing, let alone shake it off so quickly. As a Defender of Humanity, I don’t like using weapons. I prefer more subtle methods. There’s always the chance I can break these people free of deLangford’s conditioning.”
    “We’re going down to the unloading bay,” said Glory, in a harsh buzzing voice that reminded Owen irresistibly of a Hadenman. “We’ll take the lead. You stay behind us, and protect yourself. Don’t get in our way, and try and stay out of trouble.”
    “You really don’t know me at all,” said Owen Deathstalker.

    Glory and Dominic led the way through the gleaming steel corridors, Glory’s heavy metal tread sounding loudly on the quiet. There had already been so many twists and turns that Owen should have been hopelessly lost, but somehow he wasn’t. He could sense the shape and layout of the whole prison structure, and his position in it. After following Hazel back through time, this was simple.
    “The prisoners are limited to just the one body,” said Glory. “And their only weapons will be what they can improvise.”
    “I’ll try persuasion first,” said Dominic. “If that doesn’t work, you’re on, Investigator. Try and keep the damage to a minimum.”
    “Of course, Defender.”
    They entered the unloading bay. It was empty, just a great gleaming cavern of steel with the usual accoutrements. Glory tramped heavily about, checking that everything was as it should be. She wouldn’t put it past deLangford to have somehow booby-trapped the place, but all seemed clear. Dominic bent over the single control console, making sure the airlock was still secure. Owen looked around thoughtfully. He was almost sure he’d heard something. Dominic shook his perfect head unhappily.
    “I was worried deLangford’s people might have seized a ship and brought it here, so deLangford could escape in the confusion; but the sensors show only our own ship, still in orbit. Only we can call it down, and both of us would rather die than betray our trust. DeLangford knows that. So what is he planning . . .”
    “I’m pretty sure I heard something,” said Owen.
    “You did,” said Glory’s harsh buzz. “The prisoners are here.”
    The bay doors slammed open, and a mob of howling men surged in. Dozens of mad-eyed prisoners, roaring and shrieking their rage, carrying clubs and sharp-edged tools. Dominic Cairo stepped forward to face them, and those at the front stopped as though they’d run into a brick wall. The crowd behind gathered up, blocking the doorway and holding the rest back. Dominic smiled on the prisoners, and some actually smiled back. The Defender spoke to them, his voice calm and reasonable, asking them to stop and think what they were doing. His manner was so calm, so easy, so rational that some of the mob were already smiling and nodding their heads in agreement. A few actually began to cry, and loudly confess to crimes they’d never even admitted before, like children desperately sad at disappointing a beloved father. And then someone at the back of the crowd lifted an energy gun and fired at Dominic. Owen darted