Deathstalker Honor

'Of course,' said Mother Beatrice. 'Please follow me.'

She led them through the crowd, who bowed again as Owen and his party passed, though nowhere near as deeply as they'd bowed to Saint Bea. The compound led on to a series of low buildings with narrow alleys running between them. In the center was a ramshackle wooden building the size of a barn, built like everything else from the local black trees. The interior rooms turned out to be surprisingly civilized, with all the usual amenities, if few luxuries. Owen and Moon stripped off their soaking wet clothes in one room, while the women were escorted to another. Thick, hot towels were provided, and Owen rubbed himself down briskly, standing as close to the open fire as he could get. Warmth moved slowly through him, and he stretched luxuriously, as self-centered as a cat. He hadn't known there could be such pleasure in just being dry and warm.

Moon went about his toilet with quiet thoroughness, with no obvious signs of enjoyment. The door opened just enough for an arm to throw in two sets of simple but functional clothing, all in gray, followed by the ubiquitous hooded cloaks, and then the arm withdrew and the door closed again. Owen sorted out a set for himself. The clothes seemed sturdy enough, but showed signs of much hard use and washing. More than one leper had these before me, Owen thought uncomfortably, and tried not to wonder how many might have died wearing them. He shrugged mentally and put them on. It wasn't as if he had a choice.

He glanced over at Moon, who was still toweling himself. Metal implants showed clearly all over his pale skin, but that wasn't what drew Owen's attention. 'Uh, Moon…'

'Yes, Owen?'

'I understood that all Hadenmen were… desexed.'

'Yes,' said Moon. 'All of the sexual parts are cut away when a human becomes a Hadenman.'

'But you appear to have a full set of… well, everything.'

'Yes,' said Moon. 'They grew back. Other changes are taking place in my body all the time. I believe it to be a part of the ongoing changes the Maze is working in me. Certain tech implants have disappeared, absorbed into my body. I don't seem to need them anymore. I have detected no lowering in my general efficiency. But I am becoming… more human.'

And I've been worrying about the Maze making me less human, thought Owen.

Owen and Moon made their way to the common room, where the three women were already warming themselves before a roaring log fire. They were also wearing the basic gray clothes provided, complete with cloak and hood, though Hazel had lifted up the back of her skirt so she could warm her bare bottom before the fire. She grinned unconcernedly at Owen.

'I see you got the basic outfit too. Apparently gray is in this year.'

'I hate it,' said Bonnie. 'What's the point of having tattoos and piercings if you can't show them off to everyone?'

'I think it's a vast improvement,' said Midnight. 'You've done things to your body I wouldn't to a dead dog.'

'Prude!' snapped Bonnie.

'Pervert!'

'So?'

Owen gave Hazel a hard look. 'All the alternates you could have called up, and you had to choose these two…'

'Don't you take that tone of voice with me, Owen Deathstalker. After all, you married one of them.'

Luckily the door opened at that moment, and Mother Beatrice came in. Everyone immediately shut up and managed some kind of polite smile. Mother Beatrice laughed.

'Nothing like a nun entering a room to stop a conversation in its tracks. Don't worry, when you're Mother Confessor to a colony of lepers, there isn't much left that can shock you. I'm afraid those outfits are all the clothes we have to offer you. It's all the Empire provides. Still, the cloaks and hoods provide a useful purpose in hiding the ravages of the disease in its later terms. Most of the colonists remain largely unmarked, but they choose to wear the cloak and hood too, in a sign of solidarity. There are those who flaunt their deformities, but that's mostly just a plea for attention. Don't let them bother you.' She looked at Moon for a long moment, and then turned to Owen. 'You should have told me you were bringing a Hadenman with you. I have no objection to his presence, but my people have suffered much at the hands of the augmented men. I can't guarantee his safety.'

'That's all right,' said Hazel. 'We'll guarantee his safety, by kicking the ass of anyone who even looks at him funny.'

'This is Tobias Moon,' said Owen. 'He turned against his own people to side with Humanity.'

'You mean he's a traitor.'

'No, I mean he's a friend. We've been through a lot together. We all vouch for him. That should be enough.'

'It's more than enough,' said Mother Beatrice. She put out a hand to Moon, and he shook it gravely. 'I'm sorry if I seemed a little cold, sir Moon. I've never met a Hadenman socially before.'

'That's all right,' said Moon generously. 'I've never met a Saint before.'

Mother Beatrice laughed briefly and shook her head. 'You still haven't. No one's ever met a Saint when they're alive. It's more a posthumous award, bestowed by people who never met the real person.' She looked at Hazel. 'Speaking of reputations, I've heard a lot about you, Hazel d'Ark.'

'You don't want to believe everything you see in the holos,' said Hazel uncomfortably.

'Oh, I don't,' Mother Beatrice assured her. 'You should hear some of the things they've said about me. Last I heard, they were claiming I was feeding this entire colony on five protein cubes and five pints of distilled water. I wish. I'm no Saint; just a nun, going where I'm needed. Now, perhaps you'll be good enough to introduce your two friends, whom I confess are unfamiliar to me.'

'Oh, sure,' said Hazel. 'The tall steroids case with a butcher's ax on her hip is Midnight Blue. The S and M freak is Bonnie Bedlam. They're… cousins of mine. Good fighters. Now, perhaps you'd be good enough to brief us on the current situation. I was given to understand things were pretty desperate here, but we traveled through miles of jungle to get here, and never saw a single Hadenman.'

'They come and they go,' said Mother Beatrice. 'We don't know why. They started off attacking the outer settlements, but soon focused their attention here. We're the main communications center, the only starport, and the main distribution center. Whoever controls the Mission controls the fate of the colony. But the jungle and the weather make air attacks and ground travel impractical, so they have to come on foot. And though there are always more of them in every attack, so far we've held them off successfully. High-tech weaponry doesn't last long here; the rain gets into everything. So most of the fighting has been hand to hand, steel on steel.'

'Even so,' said Owen, 'how has a simple wooden fort like this stood off a Hadenman army?'

'With increasing difficulty. The jungle is our protector. The Hadenmen have to get through it to get to us, and while the plant life here has always been somewhat aggressive, it really hates the augmented men. By the time they get to us, they're already exhausted and thinned out by what the jungle's put them through. And we do have a number of true warriors here. Some were marines before their condition was diagnosed. They've made good teachers. And we also have two Sisters of Glory.'

'Bloody hell,' said Hazel, deeply impressed. 'I'd back two Sisters of Glory against an army of Hadenmen, no problem. I'd even give odds. How did they come to be here?'

'How do you think?' said Mother Beatrice, and Hazel had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

Owen saw Moon's puzzled frown. 'They're something new. Appeared while you were still dead. The Sisters of Glory are nuns who used to be part of the old Church's Brotherhood of Steel, a semi-mystical order within an order, trained in all martial arts. The old Church used them as internal police, debt collectors, and for scaring the crap out of the ungodly. After Mother Beatrice reformed the Church, most of the Brotherhood were up on charges for atrocities, mass murder, and being massively politically incorrect. So the Mother Superior revamped the few survivors as the Sisters of Glory, and gave them a new mission in life: fight to put an end to fighting. Protect the weak and the needy. Die fighting that others might live. The last warriors in a pacifistic Church, the order tends to attract… extreme types.'

'Very diplomatically put,' said Mother Beatrice. 'Actually, they're mostly homicidal headbangers with strong suicidal tendencies, and I just wanted a place I could put them all so I could keep an eye on them. To my surprise, they've turned out to be very good at what they do. Still a little too keen to martyr themselves for the cause, but I