Free Deathstalker 01 - Deathstalker by Simon R. Green Page A

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