Deathstalker

'How would I know?'

Owen laughed quietly as Hazel sent the escape pod plunging beneath the waters of the lake. Hazel watched the sensor panels carefully as the pod sank slowly through the dark waters, and then she leaned forward suddenly. Huge forms were rising up out of the depths toward the craft. They were hundreds of feet long, and according to the sensors, very much alive. They reached the escape pod in seconds and circled around it, moving unsettlingly quickly for things so large. Hazel's hands itched for some kind of weapon, but the beasts didn't seem to be attacking the craft or even warning it off. In fact, if she hadn't known better, she would have sworn they were escorting the ship down… A thought occurred to her, and she looked across at Owen.

'According to the sensors, we've picked up an escort. Whatever they are, they're disturbingly large and quite definitely alive. Would you know anything about this?'

He smiled tiredly. 'They're behemoths, from Virimonde's oceans. I had the lake seeded with a breeding pair to discourage people from using the lake. I didn't want any diving teams stumbling over my hidden ship. I understand fishing along the shores of the lake has become regarded as a danger sport. The locals play it up as a tourist attraction. I should have applied for a percentage.'

Hazel looked at him dubiously. 'Then why aren't these things attacking us?'

'Because they're actually relatively harmless. They're big and ugly and have teeth like knives, but they're timid as hell. Say boo to them and they'd run a mile. Of course, I don't tell anyone that. There's nothing to worry about. They're probably just curious about us. Ignore them.'

Hazel looked as though she was about to say something cutting, so it was probably just as well that a flashing light on the sensor panels caught her attention. They'd found Owen's yacht. She eased the escape pod into position above it and then let the onboard computer oversee contact with the yacht's outer air lock. The behemoths circled hopefully above them for a few moments and then disappeared back into the dark waters.

For a while, Owen and Hazel just lay back in their crash webbings, gathering their strength. They'd used up most of their reserves to get this far, and both of them felt like they'd been running on empty for some time. A bone-deep weariness held them in the webbing like iron weights. It was tempting just to lie there and escape the stress and strain of their situation in dreamless sleep. Owen slowly realized that if he didn't move soon, he'd just lie there until he bled to death. He forced himself up and out of the webbing, then roused Hazel from hers with harsh words and the promise of luxurious quarters inside the yacht. It took her a while to open the airlock with her burned hands, refusing his offer of help, and then she stepped back for Owen to lead the way. He grinned sardonically and stumbled toward the yacht's outer airlock on unsteady feet.

He entered the correct security code, and the lock swung open. Owen stepped through, Hazel close behind. Lights turned themselves on as the ship sensed their presence, and Hazel stopped just beyond the inner airlock and gawped openly at the sheer opulence before her. Every form of convenience and luxury had been catered for in the ship's fittings, everything from rich furs on the floor to the very latest computer hardware. There was even an old- fashioned bar, all gleaming mahogany and cut-glass decanters. Owen grinned briefly at her reaction and waved her into the nearest leather-upholstered chair.

'She is a little beauty, isn't she? One hundred and fifty feet long, thirty wide, with a reinforced, gold-plated hull and all the extras I could find in the catalogue. Get your breath back while I find out if we've still got an AI to run things.'

He accessed the ship's computers through his comm implant, contacted the Standing's computers, and downloaded Ozymandius into the ship's mainframe. It all took less than a second, and he broke contact as quickly as he could, just in case something was lying in wait to follow him back. And then the AI's comforting voice was with him again, and he relaxed a little.

'Owen, dear boy, don't ever leave it that late again. Still, I'm relieved to see you survived this far. I'm afraid your Standing is completely overrun and somewhat vandalized. The Imperial codebreakers are currently trying to crack an empty shell I set up as a distraction, and probably will be for some time, but I think it would be in both our interests to get the hell off this planet as quickly as possible. If not faster. We have definitely overstayed our welcome, and it's well past time we were gone. I see you've acquired a new friend. Aren't you going to introduce us?'

'Hazel d'Ark,' Owen subvocalized briskly. 'She's an outlaw, like me. Give her low-level security clearance, for the time being.'

'Very well, Owen. With your permission, I'll start running the ship through some wake-up routines and get it ready to depart.'

'Yeah, you do that. And keep the long-range sensors alert. If there's anything moving anywhere near this lake, I want to know about it.'

'Hey, Deathstalker, this is some ship you've got here,' said Hazel, and Owen turned his attention back to her. She was slumped in the over-sized chair with a large drink in her hand, like a ragged doll that had been left too close to the fire. 'I could buy a dukedom for what this must have cost. The last time I saw luxury like this was in a top-rank brothel parlor back on Loki.'

Owen winced, but managed a polite smile. 'I'm so glad you approve. Right now, I suggest we move into the next room. There's a certain little device there that will do us both a power of good.'

Hazel looked at him suspiciously. 'This wouldn't involve a bed, would it?'

Owen laughed briefly. 'Thanks for the interest, but no. I don't think either of us are in any condition for that. Please, step this way.'

Hazel emptied her glass, let it drop onto the carpet, and struggled up but of her chair. Owen knew better than to offer her any help. It took her a while, but eventually she was back on her feet and swaying only slightly. In the sharp unforgiving light of the yacht's main quarters, she looked worse than ever. Her clothes were scorched and tattered, and her burns were deep and disfiguring. Her hands were charred claws. He offered her his arm, and she took it as though she was doing him a favor. He led the way into the next compartment; a small, compact room dominated by a long steel cylinder, eight feet long and three wide. Hazel studied it warily. It looked disturbingly like a body bank.

'All right,' she said finally. 'I'll bite. What is it?'

'Cell regenerator,' said Owen smugly. 'Promotes rapid healing in minor injuries, and major ones, too, if you've got the time to spare. Works on the same principles used for cloning human tissues. Strictly forbidden for any but those of noble birth on pain of a very unpleasant death. Still, I won't tell anyone if you won't. You want to go first?'

'After you,' said Hazel very politely, and Owen grinned. He activated the necessary systems through his implant, and the cylinder split apart, revealing a surprisingly comfortable-looking interior. Owen climbed in, gave Hazel a reassuring smile, and lay back with a sigh as the cylinder closed itself over him. After that, it got very still and very quiet. Hazel looked about her. She had to keep fighting down an urge to sneak back into the other room, pick out the smaller valuable items and stuff them into her pockets. She had a strong feeling that would be a bad idea. Partly because it would have been a betrayal of Owen's trust, but mainly because she had an extremely strong feeling that she was being watched. She leaned against the cylinder to steady herself, cleared her throat and raised her voice.

'Is there an AI on board this yacht?' Yes, miss,' said the AI through an overhead speaker. 'I ;tm Ozymandius, at your service. How may I help you?'

'Tell me about Owen Deathstalker.'

'Head of the Deathstalker Clan, and Lord of Virimonde, until his outlawing. A good man, within his limitations. You can trust him to do what he feels is right.'

'That's rather vague.'

'That's Owen for you. He's never been a very positive person. Something of an underachiever, in fact. I have hopes the current emergency will bring out the best in him. If he doesn't get horribly killed first.'

Hazel was about to say something rather cutting when the cylinder suddenly started to open, and she had to stand up quickly to avoid being thrown off. The sudden movement made her feel giddy for a moment, but she had it back under control before Owen could notice. He stood before her and struck a jaunty pose, and she had to admit he was looking a hell of a lot better. His injuries had healed with no trace of scars, and he had a new confidence in his bearing. Even his clothes had been cleaned and repaired. He smiled cheerfully at her reaction.

'I told you; this yacht has everything you can think of, and a few things you never dreamed of. Climb in, and the machine'll take care of you, too.'