The tunnel was definitely heading downward, but after so many twists and turns, he'd quite lost track of his bearings. He'd never used the escape route before and wasn't that impressed by it now. It was cold and damp, the ceiling was uncomfortably low, and it smelt awful. He supposed he should have expected that. You could hardly send the cleaning staff into a secret tunnel every other week. He slowed to a fast walk and breathed deeply. He had to be getting near the exit now, and he didn't want to arrive there exhausted and out of breath. You never knew who might be waiting.
'Oz, you still there?'
'Of course, Owen. Where else would I be?'
'Smartass. Look, none of this makes sense. Even if I have been outlawed, the court wouldn't just announce it to all and sundry. Even these days, under the Iron Bitch, outlawing a Lord is extremely bloody rare, and it's nearly always done in private. It wouldn't do for the lower orders to get a taste for killing nobility, would it? Might start giving them ideas. We're supposed to be special, far above them, untouched and untouchable by their petty little lives. You can't just outlaw a Lord. It just isn't done!'
'It's certainly unusual,' said the AI. 'I can only assume the Empress really wants you dead. The reward on your head is unprecedentedly high. Hmmm. I wonder how much she'd give me for you?…'
'Oz…'
'Just a thought. Hold everything; new update. Someone is trying to break into my programming. Professionals, too. They're cutting through my outer defenses like they're not even there. They've got some really heavy codebreakers, Owen. We could be in real trouble.'
'Imperial?'
'Has to be. But don't start panicking yet. I've been looking after you Deathstalkers for some time now, and I've learned a few tricks down the years. Including how to appear a lot dumber than I really am while carefully leading them away from my core identity. Right now, as far as they're concerned, I'm just a jumped-up number- cruncher with an AI overlay. And by the time they've figured out the truth, I plan to be long gone. So, my files are safe for the time being, but the sooner you can download me from the castle mainframe, the better.'
'Hold everything, Oz; what have they done to my credit rating?'
'Owen, what they have done to your credit rating, I wouldn't do to a dead dog. You are now worth squat. They've wiped out every penny you had and seized all your properties and holdings, including several they weren't supposed to know about. Look, I told you most of this already; aren't you paying attention?'
'Shut up, Oz, this is serious. Without a credit rating, I'm dead. Wherever I'm going, I'm going to need money. Let me think for a moment… The Family jewels! They've got to be worth a small fortune!'
'Forget it, Owen. One, you don't have time to go back and get them; two, your head of security has people waiting for you there in case you're stupid enough to go after them; and three, the jewels are quite well known in their own right. You'd be identified the moment you tried to sell them.'
Owen scowled. 'I hate it when you're right.'
He rounded a corner in the tunnel and stepped out into the caves below the Standing where he kept his private flyer. A disrupter beam blew away part of the wall where he'd been standing, sending stone fragments flying through the air. Owen threw himself back into the tunnel, swearing softly so as not to give away his position. He clutched tightly at Cathy's disrupter.
'Why the hell didn't you warn me mere were people lying in wait for me?' he subvocalized fiercely.
'Sorry, Owen. The codebreakers have shut down my sensor apparatus inside the Standing. I can no longer access any of the security systems. They're in deeper than I thought. They're getting close to the real me, Owen. There's still a lot I can try to hold them off, but I'm getting a really bad feeling about this. You have to download me soon, or risk losing me.'
'Great. Just what I needed; something else to worry about. Look, can you access the flyer's sensors through my implant and see through those?'
'It'll be risky. The codebreakers could follow me to you.'
'Do it. I need to know how many men I'm facing and how many of them have energy weapons.'
'All right, I'm in. Three men. One disrupter. They've all got swords. They've taken cover behind the flyer.'
'Damn,' said Owen. 'Who the hell are they?'
'More of your security people. I can give you their names if you want.'
'Wouldn't know them if you did. Not my province. As long as the head of security did a good job, I didn't interfere.'
'Well, in the future, assuming we have one, I suggest you take the time to make a few friends among your security people. Never know when it might come in handy.'
Owen growled something in response, but he wasn't really listening. The fact was, in a moment he was going to have to take on three armed men, one of them with an energy weapon, and he couldn't put it off much longer. A hand disrupter only took two minutes to recharge between each shot, which meant he was running out of time fast. He had to make his move while the gun was still useless. Three to one odds weren't that bad. Not for someone with his training. But that was all he'd had: training. He'd never had to face these kind of odds for real before. And he'd let himself get out of shape. He'd been so sure he was safe here… He pushed the thought to one side and unconsciously sucked in his gut. He was going to have to be a fighter after all, despite all the promises he'd made to himself after his father's death. He was going to have to be a Deathstalker, and all that that meant.
He drew in a deep breath, held it, and then let it out. A slow, purposeful calm crept over him. He smiled briefly, acknowledging the irony, and then spoke the activation word
He burst out of the tunnel entrance again, moving too quickly for the human eye to follow, raised his disrupter and shot the man holding a gun through the chest while he was still reacting to Owen's sudden appearance. The energy beam punched right through the security man's chest and threw him aside. The energy gun flew from his hand, out of reach of the others. Owen was upon them both before the first man hit the ground. They seemed to be moving in slow motion to him, every second an age. Their swords rose nightmarishly slowly, and then he was among them, inhumanly fast and strong, supercharged almost beyond the ability of the human frame to bear. His sword ripped through one man's throat, half severing the head from the body, and then leapt on to plunge into the third man's chest. And as quickly as that, it was all over.
Owen snapped out of boost and almost fell as all the accumulated stress hit him at once. He'd been using controlled hysterical strength, though not all of it. Using the muscles to their full extent would tear them clean away from the bones. His abused heart was hammering painfully fast in his chest, his breathing was quick and strained, and he was soaked with sweat. He shook uncontrollably as the chemical stew he'd pumped into his system slowly began to disperse. Just the shock alone would have killed an ordinary man, but he was far more than that. He was a Deathstalker, and the boost was the real Deathstalker inheritance.
The shaking died away, and he smiled tremulously. Damn, he felt good. He shook his head slowly, forcing down the euphoria. It wasn't real; just a side effect of the endorphins still in his blood. This was the Deathstalker secret; what made his Family such perfect fighting machines. The constant temptation that had to be faced and mastered. A rush greater than any single drug could ever provide; a potential addiction stronger than any will could deny. This was the key to Deathstalker training, backed up by subliminal commands deep within the subconscious mind: only to use the boost when you had to. Owen had never really been tempted. The few times he'd used it before, under strictly controlled conditions, it had scared the crap out of him. It pushed aside the mind, brought out the beast that lurks in every man, and made him like it. Made him just the kind of man he'd always sworn he'd rather die than become.
He pushed the thought aside and sheathed his blood-smeared sword without bothering to clean it. He'd pay a price for the boost later, but he couldn't let himself collapse and sleep until he was safely away from here. If anywhere was safe for him now. And assuming he didn't have to use the boost again.
A memory came to him, reinforced by the last of the chemicals still moving sluggishly in his blood. He was fourteen years old, and his father was beating the shit out of him in a training session to force him to use the boost,
