Read Online Hero! by Dave Duncan - Free Book Online

give a password? Or have they already guessed that he is not Prior, as he claims? Are their fingers reaching for triggers also?
    Waiting…
     
    E VEN IN AN age when half the equipment on the planet seemed to be failing from lack of competent maintenance or lack of the correct resources or sheer antiquity…even then, the Patrol’s K47 torch buggies were so universally reliable that they carried only the simplest of emergency gear. Whichever previous owner had hot-rodded Vaun’s unit had stripped out most of that and left nothing but a simple buzz cushion and a primitive cartridge to blow it clear. Why bother? Nothing ever went wrong with a Star-seat.
    Unless some maniac gave the control board a bad case of meltdown, of course…
    Vaun spat into the howling ice of the wind, and coughed again. He thought he had been unconscious, briefly, but he was flying the cushion, so he must be still alive. Fortunate that sky buzzing was one of his favorite pastimes at Valhal—his reflexes were in good shape. There was a salty taste of blood in his mouth, and a red filter blurring his right eye. He felt as if he’d fallen about ten stories onto a concrete sidewalk, facedown. Ejection at that altitude and velocity was classified by the manual as “last resort.”
    The world spun crazily far below him, and he fought back with muscles already numbed by cold. He dimly recalled seeing his torch dissolve in a flower of red fire that dropped smoky roots earthward. That might have been one of Tham’s missiles, or merely the self-destruct.
    His left eye wasn’t much more use than the right, but through the tears he identified the familiar hills around Tham’s compound, and the lake, far below him still. He twisted the cushion and angled his dive that way.
    They hadn’t shot him down, at least, and they could have beamed him easily already, so probably they weren’t going to. Krantz! but it was cold. He was a human icicle. He hoped nothing would freeze and break off before he landed.
    Dawn flamed glorious along the peaks to the east. Good to be alive.
     
    C OZILY NESTLED IN a wooded valley, Forhil’s steeply pitched roofs and sheer timber walls suggested one of the Early Gilbian reconstructions favored by asteroid brokers and armament tycoons; but Forhil was genuinely old, parts of it dating from before the Stravakian Revolution. It sprawled haphazardly, confessing to centuries of indecision, yet that very vagueness—plus a mangy coat of velvety moss on all the buildings—gave it real character. It seemed almost part of the hills themselves, something that mankind could borrow and use, but had never created. In fact, in its youth there had been a substantial city here. The surrounding forest was pocked and knobbed with masonry and old cellars.
    Forhil had belonged to the Patrol for several centuries, and was a traditional perquisite of the ComCom; which was likely why Tham had hung onto the post. Vaun ranked it third or fourth behind Valhal as a fitting home for a hero.
    He was aware that he must be a sight as he limped across the lawn, heading for the front door. His eye had cleared, but there must be blood and bruises all over his face, and he was still coughing blood. He had ripped his shirt and some skin in a fornicating crimple bush as he landed, and twisted a knee. But at least he’d landed in one piece, and nothing seemed to have fallen off yet.
    He reeked of crimple like an unwashed locker room. Why did women go for the scent? He would drive Maeve insane if she came near him now.
    Stillness oppressed him as he hobbled up the wide steps to the terrace. The pool shone unrippled silver in the morning light, and the ornamental shrubs had a disconsolate droop to them, although that was likely only his imagination. Maintenance robots must still be tending the gardens, even if he could not see any. He had seen no signs of Security, either, which was hopeful. No sims, even. A dog barked monotonously from the paddocks around the