Slave Empire - Prophecy (23 page)

Tallyn swung
away with a curse. "Then change our heading! Follow it. Where's it
going now, anyway?"

"It's coming
from the territory of a nearby slaver, a Rentarian called Urquat.
The signal's only a few light hours old."

"Good. At
least that's good news. Maybe it's better this way, Urquat is a
small slaver, he won't be a problem. Now that we know exactly where
she is, how long until we get there?"

"An hour,
maybe a few minutes more."

"Make it a few
minutes less." Tallyn frowned at the main screen, which was blank.
"I want boarding crews ready in fully armoured space suits. We have
to be ready for anything. And keep us linked, I want to use the Net
to transfer the men, take them by surprise."

Rawn looked
up. "Shouldn't we demand that she be returned first? She might be
hurt in the fighting, or they might use her as a hostage. We could
use the threat of Vengeance to force him to hand her over."

Tallyn shook
his head. "He mustn't even know who we're after. It's better if he
just thinks it's a raid. If we tell him to hand her over, he's more
likely to dispose of her and deny he ever had her."

"But the
beacon..."

"He doesn't
know about the beacon. If he did, she wouldn't be here."

Rawn stared at
the Atlantean commander, realisation dawning in a cold tide. "She'd
be dead."

"Exactly. The
beacon can only be removed with delicate surgery, and only
deactivated with Atlantean codes. The only other way to stop its
signal is to destroy it, and believe me, you can't do that without
killing her, too. If he finds out what brought us here, she's
dead."

Rayne looked
up in surprise as the door opened and the Shrike strode in, his
coat spreading like wings behind him. He reached her in a couple of
long strides, gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. The
golden shimmer of the transfer Net engulfed them, then dispersed,
and she staggered as he released her, gazing around at a dim room.
A curved screen gave a startling view of space, sprinkled with
stars. In one corner, a space station rotated, glittering in the
harsh light of a white dwarf star. Several ships orbited it,
distant points of moving light. She seemed to be on the bridge of a
small ship, judging by the lack of space and multitude of twinkling
consoles that surrounded her. A contoured pilot's chair faced the
curved screens, flanked by consoles and vidscreens. She opened her
mouth to ask him what was going on, but then he addressed the
console beside him in an urgent tone.

"Scan the
individual with me."

A bland,
sexless voice spoke from somewhere above her, making her jump. "The
individual carries an Atlantean tag."

The Shrike
swung to face her, making her retreat a step. "You're tagged!"

"Tagged?"

"You've got a
damned homing beacon in you somewhere! You didn't know?"

"No!" She
raised a hand to her head, the spot above her left ear that had
been the source of so many headaches.

"They
implanted you, and didn't tell you?"

"No. I don't
know. Did they?"

"How nice of
them. Your heroes, the Atlanteans. They tagged you like a damned
animal, so they could track you down wherever you went."

She lowered
her hand, stunned. "How did you know?"

"I didn't,
until a bloody Atlantean ship showed up in this sector, heading
straight for Urquat's station." He swung away, his hands clenching.
"I should have had you scanned. Especially when I knew what you
were."

"What are you
going to do?" A strange mixture of hope and anguish made her heart
race.

"Do? How the
bloody hell should I know? Urquat would have put you in a damned
atomiser."

Her knees
shook, and she leant against a console. "You're going to kill
me?"

"I should," he
said. "I should jettison you and get the hell out of here." His
voice softened. "But I won't. Shadowen, how long before the
Atlanteans arrive?"

"Eleven
minutes."

"Okay, link
with the Net, set course for... Octovar One. Send a message to the
Shadow Wing, tell them to return to base. The Atlanteans will
follow us. We've got the bait."

Rayne clutched
the console behind her as space swung past the portals, the stars
wheeling around before settling into new patterns. The station
vanished, and a belt of stars filled the screens. As she gazed at
them, trying to recognise their patterns, a web of snaky golden
brilliance crawled over the screens. She turned to the tall man who
stood in the shadows, staring at a screen that hung before a
bulkhead. After a moment he nodded.

"Good, they're
following, and we're pulling away. Their stress factors are much
higher, due to the size of their ship, so we're faster."

"What are you
going to do with me?"

He turned to
face her. "Nothing unpleasant. Octovar One is an Atlantean outpost,
a law abiding world with little military presence. I'll get close
enough to transfer you to the surface, then I'll leave and you'll
be free. Your friends should pick you up within an hour or so. All
you have to do is wait."

"Is it safe
for you? What if they lay a trap for you?"

"I'll elude
them. I've done it many times before." He turned to study the
screen again. "I'm touched by your concern. I didn't think you'd
mind having my death on your conscience now you know the extent of
my depravity."

"I'm not sure
what to believe anymore."

"Believe what
you saw. Your eyes don't lie."

"Then why are
you helping me?"

"Helping you?"
He laughed, a rich husky tone that the mask muffled. "I'm not
helping you; I'm getting rid of you. All right, I could have
jettisoned you, but that might not be such a good idea. You are,
after all, the Golden Child, and I've explained why I'd rather not
meddle in the possible future. Whether or not this Atlantean
prophecy will ever come true is debateable, but I don't believe in
taking chances." He turned and gestured to a narrow corridor that
led off the bridge. "Now, I'll show you to a room where you can
relax in solitude, since you don't like my company."

Rayne squeezed
past and preceded him down the passage, aware of his presence close
behind. A door slid open ahead, revealing a haven of soft light
with luxurious grey and white decor. She entered a cosy sitting
room with comfortable chairs and a low table, a well-stocked bar
and an entertainment section. The Shrike paused in the doorway,
then turned to go, but stopped when she called out and turned back
to face her.

"Who were you
talking to on the bridge?" she asked.

"The
ship."

"This ship
talks? What, did you use some poor man's brain instead of a neural
net?"

"It has a
highly advanced bio-crystalline brain, and is capable of thinking
for itself. It's what I call a companion ship, which I can talk to
when I'm alone." He leant against the doorframe. "I'm currently
building a second one, since this one is a little old now. A
companion ship flies itself. I don't have to link into a neural net
and run the risk of having my brains fried."

She stared at
him, astounded, then forced herself to look away, resisting the
urge to ask him more questions. "I see. Thank you."

Tarke left,
and the door slid shut behind him, sealing her in the quiet
room.

Tallyn glared
at the holograms scrolling up from Marcon's console, his eyes
narrowed and brow furrowed. Vengeance had dropped out of the Net
only to find the slaver station abandoned and no ships in sight.
They had been forced to wait for a signal to reach them from
Rayne's beacon, a tense few minutes during which many feared the
worst. Then the welcome flash of the signal appeared on Marcon's
console, and a new course was set. The destination puzzled Tallyn,
and he tried to discern the Shrike's actions.

"Perhaps only
a crew and Rayne are on the ship," he mused. "We don't know if that
bastard is on it. I don't see him putting himself in such danger.
For what?"

"Maybe he
still doesn't know about the beacon," Rawn suggested. "He might be
simply fleeing."

"Towards an
Atlantean outpost?"

"An unguarded
outpost. Perhaps he thinks it's the last place you'd look for
him."

"No, I doubt
that. He could have gone in any number of directions and ended up
deeper inside his territory, with his ships to protect him. Instead
he's heading away from it. I might be tempted to think it's a
decoy, except she's on that ship." Tallyn made a tired gesture.
"And he can't know about the beacon, or he'd have jettisoned her
already."

"How can it be
detected?"

"With a body
scan. Any medical scanner that registers metal or microwaves will
pick it up, but he won't know it's a beacon unless he detects its
pulses, which he can't unless he knows the frequency. Since most of
the advanced races use cyber implants, there's nothing unusual
about it."

Rawn gave a
soft snort. "He might think it strange that she doesn't know she
has it, and therefore can't possibly use it. You don't think that
might make him a little bit suspicious?"

"Why would he
discuss it with her? I don't think he talks to her at all. She's
just a commodity to him."

"I hope you're
right, but it'll be hard to keep Rayne quiet."

Tallyn frowned
at him. "Let's hope she doesn't annoy him too much. He's a
killer."

Rayne stared
at the door, her thoughts and emotions in turmoil. Part of her
longed to join him on the bridge and ask him the many questions
that bred in her mind, another part knew the answers would probably
be lies, if she got any at all. A voice in the back of her mind
shouted that she should stay out of his way and hope he really
meant to release her, while the young, naive part of her insisted
that he would make a powerful friend, and should be cultivated.

In her
confused state of indecision, she was unaware of how swiftly time
passed until the door opened again, revealing the empty corridor.
At this invitation she rose and went to the bridge, where the
Shrike sat in the pilot's chair, staring out at the stars. A blue
planet, mottled with white clouds and green land masses, shone like
a jewel in the blackness.

The Shrike
turned his head. "We're here. Octovar One."

"So," she
murmured, her voice quivering a little, "You really mean to release
me."

"I'm not that
much of a liar."

"But you are
one."

He shrugged.
"I have to spin the occasional yarn. Now, I don't have much time.
Are you ready?"

Rayne
experienced a strange pang of sadness, and wondered at it. In all
likelihood, she would never meet him again, which was a good thing,
yet she regretted it. She longed to ask him what would have
happened if she had not been the Golden Child. What he would have
done with her if she had just been another slave? The possible
answers made her shudder, but she had no time to ponder the
question further. He stood up, facing her.

"Are you
ready?" he repeated.

"Yes. I - I'm
grateful to you."

"Don't be. I'm
not your friend, nor am I some sort of romantic figure out of one
of your cheap novels or fairy tales. Reality is harsh, so forget
about me and get on with your life."

As she cursed
her unguarded musings, he turned away and addressed the ship.
"Activate the transfer Net, and place our guest on the surface, in
the principal city."

Rayne raised a
hand in a belated gesture of farewell as the golden shimmer
engulfed her, then the energy shell dispersed, and she stood on a
bright, clean street beneath a clear blue sky. Atlanteans, dressed
in their preferred loose, colourful garments, wandered past, some
glancing at her. Gravcars swept by above and beside her, skywalks
arched overhead, linking towering buildings. She made her way to a
public bench in a patch of red and green flora and sank onto it,
her legs shaking. Fortunately, the air was warm and calm, for she
still wore the dress he had given her, which offered little
protection from the elements.

An hour later,
Tallyn and Rawn transferred in, and she ran into her brother's
arms. Even as they embraced, the energy shell engulfed them once
more, and she was back aboard Vengeance.

The Shrike
gazed at the stars, his chin resting on his hand. He had removed
the mask to rub his face, relieving a persistent itch on his cheek.
Stripping off his gloves as well, he tossed them onto a console,
where the mask stared accusingly at him. He studied his hands,
remembering how she had scrutinised one so closely, and the touch
of her fingers. No one had touched his skin for fifty years. Not
while he was conscious, at any rate. Doctors had tended him after
the many attempts on his life, but he had been unaware at the time.
She was so young, and so innocent. Her touch had been like fire. He
rubbed his wrist, pushing up his sleeve to gaze at the scars around
it as he remembered what had made them so long ago.

Octovar One
was two light years behind him, and he had dropped out of the Net
to relax and ponder his hasty decisions. Releasing the human girl
had been the right thing to do. He had no problem with that,
whether or not she was the Golden Child. The Draycon Empire,
however, would find out about her continued existence, and Drevina
would seek to kill her again unless someone stopped her. The
Atlanteans' laws forbade them from using violence except in
self-defence, a fatal flaw in their culture, in his opinion. He ran
a hand through his hair and stretched.

"Shadowen,
what's the probability that this Atlantean legend is true, and
Rayne is the Golden Child?"

"The human
female who accompanied you earlier?" At Tarke's nod, the ship went
on, "I would say slim, if not for some recent data collected from
the Atlantean space net. Apparently, on a trip to her former home
world, Vengeance encountered a mysterious ship that claimed to be
the Golden Child's guide. The ship was huge, and immune to the
Atlanteans' weapons. It also used the transfer Net to leave the
area instantaneously."