Slave Empire - Prophecy (20 page)

"Just how are
you tracking her? What's this signal you're following?"

Tallyn
hesitated, shooting him a guilty look. "When you were brought to
Atlan, you were both fitted with cyber implants. It's standard
procedure, so one day you can be trained to use them to link with
our data nets and such, but they also serve as beacons."

Rawn rubbed
the spot above his left ear, which, although he had no scar there,
was where the terrible headaches had started in the weeks after
their testing and immunisation. Anger chilled him, but he quelled
the hot words that sprang onto his tongue.

"Beacons. So
you can always track us down."

"For your
safety. We're your guardians. We have to be able to keep you
safe."

"You didn't do
a very good job with Rayne, did you?"

"A slip. It
won't happen again, and we'll find her, I swear."

Rawn glared at
him. "When you do, we're having these things taken out of our
heads, got it?"

"If not for
the beacon, we'd have very little chance of ever finding her again.
That implant will save her life."

"You put these
things in our heads without our permission, and you'll remove them
if we tell you to!"

Tallyn made a
calming gesture. "You can't have them removed. They're considered
compulsory in our society. Without them, you wouldn't be able to
use the space net, drive a car, hell, even some doors won't open
for you. We all have one."

Rawn frowned
at Marcon. "You do?"

Marcon nodded.
"Most of the interfacing done here is through the implants.
Atlanteans have them fitted at a young age, and they're used for
most everyday transactions between us and machines. Cars,
databases, medical facilities, purchasing, selling, whatever's done
through the space net or with machines requires a cyber implant's
codes. It's also how we convert our thoughts into signals that
machines can understand."

"Then we'll
keep that part of them, but the beacons must go."

"That's not
for you to decide," Tallyn said. "Yours will be deactivated if
that's what you want, but it's up to Rayne to make her decision.
After what she's been through, she might want to keep it."

"Fine. As long
as she knows what you did to her and has a choice, which she should
have had in the first place. I don't like the fact that we were
never consulted about it, asked if we wanted it, or even told we
had the damned things. You treated us like animals."

Tallyn glanced
at Marcon, unwilling to meet Rawn's angry eyes. Instead, he studied
the holograms scrolling up in front of his lieutenant, trying to
ignore Rawn's glare. He could not deny that what the council had
ordered was wrong. The humans should have at least been told what
had been done to them. The fact that Atlantean children were fitted
without being consulted did not mean alien adults should be treated
the same way.

After a short
silence, Rawn asked, "What's this 'time delay' you were talking
about earlier?"

"The beacon
gives off a normal microwave signal," Tallyn explained. "It only
travels at the speed of light. The ship on which Rayne travelled
was moving much faster than light, so the signals were left behind,
like bread crumbs on a path. The time delay is how long the signal
had been travelling when we picked it up."

"Two
days?"

"Well, that's
almost how long she's been missing, so we're still following the
track of her second abductor, the one who took her from Gergonia.
Unfortunately, it took us a long time to pick up her trail from
Atlan. But now that we're on the right track, it's only a matter of
time before we catch up."

Rawn grunted
and gazed across the bridge, wishing it was not taking quite so
long. Every passing hour increased his worry. Their progress was
slow, for in order to detect the signals, Vengeance had to
decelerate and shed the energy shell. Even though they knew which
direction the signals were heading in, they could not risk
overshooting their destination and being forced to double back,
perhaps losing the trail forever when the signals dispersed.

Chapter Twelve

Rayne watched
a vidfilm documentary of an obscure alien ecology, which she found
rather fascinating in a shuddery sort of way. The suite was
equipped with a diverse selection of entertainment and informative
vidfilms, some of which she had sampled to stave off boredom. When
the door opened, she looked up in surprise, expecting the Shrike.
Instead, the diminutive slave girl who had served lunch stood in
the doorway, her eyes cold. Rayne's gaze slid past to the
temptingly open door, but, even as she stared at it, the girl
stepped forward and it slid shut. The slave eyed Rayne with obvious
dislike.

"So, what
makes you so damned special?"

Rayne's brows
rose. "I have no idea. What makes you say I'm special?"

"Come on, you
don't think he keeps all the girls he saves in this kind of luxury,
do you?"

Rayne shook
her head in confusion. "He didn't save me. He bought me at a slave
market."

"Of course he
did, stupid. He buys all of us, except the ones he steals. What I
want to know is why he's keeping you here, and why he's spending so
much time with you." Her eyes dropped to Rayne's neck. "You don't
even have a collar."

Rayne's mind
raced, hope flaring in her heart. This girl obviously resented her
presence, for reasons best left unexplored, and might be willing to
help her escape, if it was at all possible. She leant forward, her
eyes eager. "Listen, you don't want me here, and I don't want to be
here. Is there any way to get off this world? Maybe send a distress
signal? Could you smuggle me aboard a ship, maybe a freighter?
There must be foreign ships in orbit, like traders, or
associates?"

"You want to
escape from Tarke?" She looked incredulous.

"Tarke? Is
that his real name?"

"Yes."

"Will you help
me?"

The girl
stepped closer to study Rayne with a puzzled, pitying expression.
"You don't have to escape from Tarke. He'll take you back to your
home world if you want to go."

Rayne's jaw
dropped, then she gave a snort of laughter. "I'm a slave, like you.
He's going to sell me."

The girl
touched her collar. "I'm not a slave anymore. He freed me, like
everyone else. There are no slaves here."

Rayne stared
at her, stunned. The poor creature must be drugged or deluded, not
to know her situation, or perhaps she made her life bearable by
living in a fantasy of denial. She gestured to a chair, inviting
the girl to sit. Rayne searched for the right words to ask for help
without bursting the girl's bubble of self-delusion.

"Look, you may
be happy here, but I'm not. I want to go home, and perhaps the
Shrike is too busy to take me. Can you help?"

The girl
frowned. "There are no foreign ships in orbit. All the ships around
this planet belong to Tarke."

Rayne's heart
sank. "Is there any other way off this world?"

"There's a
transport leaving tomorrow, returning slaves to their home worlds.
If you mingle with the others, they'll take you. I don't understand
why Tarke would refuse to let you go. Are you sure he said no?"

"Well, perhaps
he just wants to keep me a little longer." Jealousy flared in the
girl's eyes, and Rayne hurried on, "But I want to be on that ship.
Can you help me?"

"Yes, I can
get you on the ship, if you want."

Relief washed
through Rayne in a warm tide. "Thank you."

The girl shot
her a puzzled look, and Rayne tried to keep the pity out of her
eyes. This poor girl was jealous of a man with no face, and
obviously could not understand Rayne's wish to leave. Tarke. A
strange name. Meeting a slave girl who imagined she was free had
undermined Rayne's slight faith in his honesty, and the whole
situation stank. After all her futile attempts to escape, one of
the Shrike's slaves was going to free her. How ironic.

The girl rose
and went to the door, where she stopped and beckoned to Rayne as it
slid open. "I'll take you to the embarkation area, where you can
wait with the others. You'd better cover your neck, or you'll draw
attention to yourself."

Rayne turned
up the collar of her suit and fastened it under her chin as she
followed the girl. Apparently the door was coded to admit anyone
but her, so leaving the suite was just a matter of following the
girl. She hurried down the deserted corridor after the slave, who
turned into another that led deeper into the building. The girl
marched along confidently, and they passed several people who
ignored them. Rayne was inclined to try to duck out of sight when
someone appeared, which made the slave girl shoot her scathing
looks.

They trotted
down another corridor, and, although she did not seem concerned
about capture, the girl was certainly in a hurry. They passed more
people, none of whom gave them a second glance. Rayne relaxed,
realising that they did not know who she was. Surprisingly, no
guards or overseers were in evidence; the slaves seemed to go about
their business without supervision.

Halfway along
the corridor, they entered a lift and shot up several floors. The
girl used the time to scrutinise Rayne, as if trying to discern her
particular brand of madness. When the lift doors opened, they
stepped out into a brightly lighted area populated by scores of men
and women moving purposefully about. Rayne followed her guide
across a vast hangar where several gleaming black shuttles were
berthed, attracting only a few incurious looks.

Glancing into
a clear-walled office as they hurried past, she stumbled, shocked.
The Shrike stood talking to a man who bobbed his head in a
subservient manner. As she watched, the Shrike settled into a
form-fitting chair and glanced around at the people outside. Rayne
quickened her pace, turning her head away. The acres of open floor
seemed to take hours to cross, and she almost trampled on the
girl's heels in her eagerness to reach the other side, as far away
from the Shrike as she could. They passed through a door at the far
end, entering a larger hangar, which also bustled with
activity.

A sleek black
space ship sat on its belly in the middle of it, and Rayne was
unable to resist stopping to study it. At first the ship's
streamlining puzzled her, then she realised that it was small
enough to be an atmosphere craft as well. A needle nose swelled
into a graceful body, the bulk of which comprised two enormous
energy conduits for the dimension drive. It hovered on its
anti-gravity coils, mere centimetres above the ground. Deactivated
repellers made spiral indentations on its flanks, top and tail. A
scanner ring circled the sharp nose, held in place by invisible
attractor fields.

Silver hawk
emblems gleamed on its sides, and its familiarity struck Rayne.
Every ship she had studied on Atlan had some bizarre shape, either
boxy, saucer, spherical, pyramidal or beyond description, but this
was the first ship that looked like something she could relate to,
a jet fighter without wings. It also lacked the delicate antenna
arrays that sprouted from star ships, which atmospheric travel
would destroy. She became aware of the slave girl beside her,
gazing at the ship with a soft smile.

"It's Tarke's
special ship. The neural net was damaged in a battle. It's being
fixed."

Rayne glanced
around, wondering if they had any security at all in this place.
Evidently not, for no one seemed concerned by their presence. She
followed the girl through a door at the far end of the hangar,
which led into yet another vast area, where Rayne stopped in
surprise. Hundreds of people sat at one end of the room, a soft
murmur issuing from their ranks.

Three long
lines shuffled towards the far wall, where three shuttles were
parked. The people vanished into the vessels, and several
black-clad men watched them, at times stepping forward to answer a
question. Others walked amongst the seated people, occasionally
bending to speak to them before they moved on. Rayne stepped back
at the sight of the uniformed guards, and the girl turned to eye
her scornfully.

"There's
nothing to be afraid of. Go and join them. They're being taken to a
ship that leaves tomorrow. Tell them where you want to go, and
they'll take you there."

"Atlan?"

"All who wish
to go to Atlan are taken to Adrivia, a nearby world. There you can
call your friends to pick you up."

"Just like
that?" Rayne could not believe it. It was too simple, too easy.

The girl
snorted. "Why not? The Shrike's not a slaver, stupid girl. He
rescues slaves and gives them back their freedom. There are no
prisons or guards on Ironia, none to keep you here, at any
rate."

"He bought me
at an auction. He told me he was going to..." Remembering her
resolve not to end the poor girl's fantasy, she trailed off. "It
doesn't matter. This will suit me fine."

Rayne studied
the crowd with a pang of pity, finding some poor thin wretches
amongst them, and their placid, contented expressions surprised
her. These unfortunates were probably being transported to auction,
but mingling with them still offered a chance of escape. Once away
from the planet, she could make her offer to the ship's captain,
and the chances were good that he would find it tempting. A
valuable ransom had to be better than a lesser amount from the
auction block, and would save him the expense of a collar. She
turned to thank the girl, who pulled a face and flounced off the
way they had come.

Rayne joined a
queue, hoping she would be off the planet before the Shrike
realised she was gone. Her hopes were dashed when a guard announced
that the shuttles were full, and those in front of her went to sit
by the wall. She checked that her collar still hid her bare neck,
which, along with her clothes and well fed appearance, set her
apart from the other slaves. Most of them wore plain grey
coveralls, and only the guards wore black suits like hers. She
realised that she would be mistaken for a guard, not a slave.
Heartened, she walked over to a wall and leant against it, like the
other guards.