'You are feverish,' said Kit. 'Let's go.'
They made their way slowly down the secret passage, David leaning heavily on Kit. Blood was running freely down his side now, and when he coughed, as he sometimes had to despite the pain, blood sprayed from his mouth along with the sound. But he kept going. He wouldn't give up. A Deathstalker never gives up. His head swam sickly, and sometimes he thought it was Owen there in the passage with him, and sometimes it was Giles. But when his head cleared, Kit was always there with him, the only real friend he'd ever had.
They reached the end of the passage, and came to a stop while Kit peered cautiously out into the flyer bay. He snapped his head back in immediately, and a disrupter beam hit the top of the tunnel mouth, blasting debris from the stone ceiling. David was caught off-balance and fell heavily to the floor, pulling Kit down with him. They lay together on the stone floor, breathing heavily. Kit fired his gun blindly out the passage mouth, to discourage anyone from coming in after them. He looked for David's gun, and found he didn't have one.
'David,' he said urgently. 'Where's your gun?'
'I gave it to Alice, just before we crashed. She's still got it.' David spit blood onto the floor, and pulled a face. 'Kit, I just tried to boost, and nothing happened. There's nothing left in me. No more fight. This is as far as I go.'
'Shut up,' said Kit. 'Get your breath back, and we'll head back up the passage.'
'No. I'm not going anywhere. I'm cold, Kit. So cold.'
Kit sat up, put his back against the passage wall, and cradled David in his arms, holding him close, trying to share his warmth with the dying man.
'Had some good times here, didn't we, Kit?'
'The best.'
'Pity about Alice. And Jenny.'
'Yes.'
'Leave me, Kit.'
'What?'
'They want me, not you. Pointless, you dying here as well as me.'
'I can't leave you, David. You're my friend.'
'Then do as I ask. Don't die for nothing. Kill me, and then go out to them. My death will put you in good with Lionstone again. Show her my head, and she'll probably make you Lord of Virimonde. They'll think you're one of them, after all.'
'David… please. I can't…'
'Yes you can. You have to. I don't want to die here, by inches, screaming when the pain gets really bad. Do it, Kit. Be my friend. One last time.'
He coughed harshly, and couldn't stop. Blood spilled down his chin. He tried to speak again and couldn't. Kit hugged him tightly till the coughing stopped, then drew his knife and thrust it expertly between David's ribs. The breath went out of the Deathstalker in a long sigh, and then he was still. Kit sat there for a while, cradling the dead body in his arms. David had been quite right. The Empress would take him back, as David's executioner. She'd always had a soft spot for her smiling killer. And it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go. The rebellion was over. Anyone could see that. So that just left Lionstone. He was a killer, and he had to go where the killing was. He carefully laid David's body down on the passage floor and arranged his arms and legs neatly. He drew his sword and leaned over David. The Deathstalker's face was very calm. Kit leaned down and kissed David on the bloody lips.
'My love.'
He straightened up and raised his sword.
CHAPTER FOUR
EVERYONE GOES TO GOLGOTHA
And so the war finally began, almost by accident.
The live broadcast of Virimonde's destruction and the slaughter of its population by Imperial forces backfired badly. A roar of rage and condemnation spread across the whole Empire, planet after planet seeing its own possible future in the horrific images unfolding before them on their viewscreens. Insurrections arose spontaneously on world after world, sparks fanning into flames as the incoming images grew steadily worse. The lower classes took to the streets, protests quickly becoming riots, turning on anything that could be seen as representing Imperial authority. The moneyed classes were right out there with them, as often as not, driven from their complacency by shock and outrage, ready to fight and die rather than see their world mechanized like Virimonde.
The underground seized the opportunity before it, and sent its people out on every world they had access to, guiding and assisting the spontaneous uprisings. They supplied weapons, pointed crowds in the right directions, and put long-crafted plans into operation. Deep-planted sleeper agents committed sabotage, disrupted communications, and generally brought people together to do the most damage possible. The army responded by emptying its barracks and sending troops straight out onto the streets, with orders to shoot everything that moved. It might have worked, if so many people hadn't been shocked and sickened by what they'd seen happening on Virimonde. They were too angry now to be properly scared. Men and women spilled out onto the streets, armed with whatever weapons they could find or improvise, and fell upon the Imperial troops in such numbers that not even massed energy weapons could stop them. All across the Empire, on world after world, there was blood and slaughter in the towns and cities, and official buildings blazed like warning beacons of the battle to come.
In the streets they cursed the name of the Widowmaker Dram, and tore down the portraits and statues of the Iron Bitch, and howled for revenge for the dead of Virimonde.
Increasingly isolated as well as outraged, the Lords added their troops to the rebellion, sending their armed forces out to fight the Imperial troops alongside the rebels. The Families were nothing if not survivors, and Lionstone had become a greater threat to them than any momentary uprisings. They'd always known she was crazy, but now she had become dangerously insane. If Lionstone had consulted them first, about David or Virimonde or even the mechanization, things might have been different. They'd have found some way to turn it to their advantage. But the first they knew of any of it was when their viewscreens showed them the rape of a Lord's planet. It didn't take too much imagination for any of them to see themselves as Lionstone's next object of opportunity, outlawed so their planet could be next in line for mechanization under Lionstone's direct rule. Faced with a clear threat to their lives, their position, and their wealth, it was inevitable that the Lords would tacitly encourage the rebellion. The lower orders could always be put back in their place later. And if many Lords saw in the chaos an opportunity to place themselves on the Iron Throne, they kept it to themselves, for the moment.
Suddenly, it seemed like everything was up for grabs. Anything seemed possible. Every group and faction and cause saw a chance to overthrow the way things were, and went out into the streets to fight for it. People who wouldn't normally have spoken to each other without spitting became temporary allies, fighting side by side, held together by the shared aim of throwing Lionstone off the Iron Throne before she could destroy them all in her madness. In city after city, on world after world, the people went head-to-head with Imperial troops, and the cry of rebellion was on everyone's lips.
The army and the Fleet could have coped with a few planetwide rebellions, but not everything at once.
Stretched thinly across the Empire, attacked on every front and even from within by those sympathetic to the rebels and their cause, the Imperial forces were crippled by confusion. Starcruisers appeared over the worst trouble spots, but they'd never been intended to deal with planetside rebellions. Their only real threat was a scorching, and for the moment, at least, they were spread too thinly for that. Rebels in their crews sabotaged their communications, isolating them further. The underground had planned for this day, and the Empire, in its arrogance, had not.
On the planet Golgotha, homeworld of Empire, center of authority, outraged people filled the streets, rioting and looting and burning down the command centers. Because they'd had so much more to lose, they'd hesitated at first from open rebellion, but the underground had swiftly spread rumors that Lionstone was planning harsh new taxes, even more repressive laws, and was even planning to shut down their precious Arenas. After what they'd
