Slave Empire - Prophecy (28 page)

Tarke would
not see her, and nothing she said seemed to make any difference.
Rayne glared at the black-clad woman who faced her, a blank-faced
Erdorian whose rather sullen expression suited her office as bearer
of bad news. Rayne recalled the unpleasant fourteen-hour journey
she had endured. The smuggler had spent only four hours linked to
the net before taking a six-hour nap. Mercifully, she had not been
linked to a neural net, but now found herself barred on Tarke's
doorstep for her trouble.

"Does he give
a reason, or is he just being bloody-minded?"

"He's not
currently on this base," was the tart reply.

"And is he
planning to come here any time in the not too distant future?"

"I don't know
his plans."

"All right."
Rayne forced a stiff smile. "Would you give him a message
then?"

"Certainly."

"Tell him I
know what happened on Elliadaren."

"What's that
supposed to mean?"

Rayne
shrugged. "He'll know."

The woman
snorted and spun on her heel, marching off down the corridor. Rayne
watched her until she turned a corner, then decided to go for a
walk in the garden in front of the building. Two guards kept an eye
on her from the doorway. They followed her everywhere, and
sometimes prevented her from entering certain areas. She was not
being treated exactly as a prisoner, but that her host did not
trust her was abundantly clear. She had been scanned upon arrival,
and since then her keepers had treated her with deep suspicion.
This time, she had her own clothes, and wore a dark blue one-piece
suit that stood out amongst the monotony of black-clad people.

Rayne glanced
back at her guards, who followed her, laser rifles held across
their chests. At first she had thought the guns were meant for her,
which seemed rather paranoid since she was unarmed, but now she
suspected that the weapons were more for her protection. Several
times she had encountered people whose eyes had glinted murderously
and whose glares had only been deterred by her guards' hard-eyed
presence. She had no idea what she had done to deserve their
animosity, for she had been studiously polite to everyone she met.
These people, it seemed, were as strange as the man they served.
She sighed and headed back towards her apartment.

The following
morning, just as she finished dressing in a pale blue one-piece
suit trimmed with grey, the apartment door chimed. She hurried to
press the button that opened it, and found the two guards on her
doorstep.

One stated in
a gruff voice, "The Shrike will see you now."

Rayne wondered
if the thrill that raced down her spine at his words was terror or
excitement, deciding it was probably a bit of both. She followed
them along several uniform grey corridors at a brisk march before
being whisked up several floors in a high-speed lift. It seemed
that she was in the same building, but she was not sure, for the
route was confusing and the scenery monotonous.

The guards
stopped outside a door and stepped aside as the portal slid open.
She took a deep breath and walked in with all the confidence she
could muster. Most of it drained away at the sight of the tall
masked man who stood gazing out of a massive window. When he turned
to face her, she found her mouth dry and her knees weak. Her eyes
flinched from the mask.

The Shrike
gestured to a chair with a gloved hand, and she sank into it. Four
soft cream chairs were arranged around a low, polished red wood
table in the centre of a plush room decorated in pale grey and soft
blue. A bank of huge windows overlooked the gleaming white and
green city. Tarke walked over and sank into a seat opposite, the
table between them.

"So, the
frightened slave girl has now become what? An Atlantean messenger?
A spy?" His soft voice made her shiver. "Few dare to seek me out,
and even fewer have the temerity to come to one of my bases. What
makes you so bold?"

She gulped,
brave words dying on her tongue. Several seconds passed in silence,
while she cursed her blank mind.

"What happened
to Elliadaren?" he murmured.

"It was
attacked... by an Envoy." To her relief, his words kick-started her
brain, and her voice was steady.

"Who told you
that?"

"My guide, an
entity called Endrix."

"Go on."

"I've been
there. I've seen the remains of the Crystal Ship that carried the
Envoy to your world." Words tumbled off her tongue in a nervous
flood. "Your people were suffering terribly when you found them.
You were forced to kill them. There was nothing else you could do.
The Envoy came from another universe. He fed on your people's
suffering. Another is coming to Atlan, and I have to stop him."

The Shrike was
silent for several moments, his emotions guarded. "I never had a
name for the monster that tortured my people. What else do you know
about this Envoy?"

"Not a lot.
They're patriarchal, cannibalistic and sadistic. He controls the
Crystal Ship, and forces it to use its telepathic ability to
inflict pain on his victims. He and his minions feed on the pain of
others."

"But you
didn't come here just to tell me this."

"No. I need
your help. Endrix told me to seek you out. He said you would help
me."

He tilted his
head. "Why should I help you?"

"You don't
want the Atlanteans to fall. You said so yourself."

"That's true,
which is why I killed Drevina and her brother."

She gasped.
"You did that?"

"I thought it
would throw the Draycons into confusion long enough for this
situation with you to blow over or resolve itself. Otherwise they
would have tried to interfere again, and next time they might have
succeeded."

Rayne stared
at him, longing to tear off the horrible mask. He seemed hostile,
and she knew she trod on thin ice, for he could have her removed
from his base any time he chose. She decided to be blunt.

"Will you help
me?"

"That depends.
Who is this Endrix, and why did he tell you to come to me for help?
What do I have that Atlan can't offer?"

"I don't know
what, or who he is. I've never seen him. All I know is he's in the
huge black ship that can use the transfer Net to transport itself
instantly. He saw what you did to Elliadaren. He understood why you
did it, as I do. I saw it through his memories. I can't even begin
to imagine what it must have been like to be forced to make that
kind of decision, and I'm sorry about what happened."

He stood up,
making her tense, but he only walked back to the window and stared
out. "That was a long time ago."

"I'm sure the
memories haven't faded."

"No, they
haven't. I knew they were all going to die, but to share in that
wordless agony was a thing no one should have to endure. The
silence that fell after the bombs exploded was like... paradise,
after the torture of their pain."

"You should
have told the Atlanteans why you did it."

He gave a soft
snort. "Do you think they would have believed me?"

It all made
terrible, tragic sense as the last pieces of the puzzle fell into
place. "So you became a slaver, because you were already condemned
to death, and nothing mattered anymore."

"Don't try to
analyse me." He turned to face her. "What do you want?"

"Endrix says I
need a ship, and only one of yours will be good enough."

He walked over
to lean on the back of the chair beside her. "You want a ship? You
expect me to just hand over a multi-million regal ship to you?" He
laughed and shook his head. "You amaze me. Why don't the Atlanteans
give you one? It's their necks you're supposed to save, not
mine."

"If Atlan
falls -"

"I know that.
I told you, remember? Why must I give you a ship?"

"Endrix says
only one of your ships will be good enough to do whatever it is I
have to do when the time comes. He didn't go into the details. And
you don't have to give it to me, a loan will do."

He chuckled.
"A loan. This Endrix seems to think he knows everything."

"He also said
you're not what you appear to be, and if you told me the truth it
would surprise me."

"Did he? Yes,
I suppose it would."

"But you're
not going to tell me the truth, are you?"

He stepped
around the chair and sat in it, appearing friendlier and more
relaxed. "No. But I might loan you a ship."

Her heart
leapt. "On what conditions?"

"Conditions?"
He paused, and she wished she knew what he was thinking, or at
least could sense his emotions, but his guard was up. He shook his
head. "Only one. That you stay the hell off my bases and away from
me. When you're finished with the ship, it will return to me."

Rayne stared
at him, shocked. "Why?"

"I don't have
to explain myself to you. It shouldn't be a problem, since you find
my company so abhorrent."

"I shouldn't
have said that. I'm sorry. It's just that what you did was so
terrible, so shocking, killing that slaver in cold blood like that,
setting a trap for him. Using me as bait. Now that I'm over the
shock of it, I don't dislike your company. In fact, I'd like to get
to know you better."

"Would you?"
he murmured. "A dangerous ambition. Few people know me well, and
they're utterly loyal. They would die before revealing anything
about me to my enemies. You, on the other hand, are an unknown
quantity, and might still be working for the Atlanteans. You have
no proof that anything you've told me is true. I only have your
word for it."

He held up a
hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "Granted, you're right
about the Crystal Ship, so you've been to Elliadaren. But that
doesn't prove anything else, does it?"

"No." She
lifted her chin. "But I would never betray someone who helped me.
You can trust me. Read my mind if you don't believe me, I won't try
to stop you."

"I never delve
that deep into the thoughts of others. It lays bare far too much
that's private. Which shows how little you know about the
subject."

"But I can
sense when..." She frowned, confused. Usually she could sense when
someone was lying, but she had failed with him.

"If you know
when someone's lying, you're an empath, and that's really
dangerous."

"Why?"

"Why?" He
snorted. "How many people do you know who would like to be caught
lying?"

"The people I
know don't lie."

"Of course,
the Atlanteans. Damn, but they're a stuck-up, self-righteous lot.
Never did like them." He rose and came around the table to loom
over her. "Let's get this over with, shall we? I'll take you to the
hangar, where you can meet your ship."

"I haven't
agreed to your condition," she pointed out as she stood up to face
him.

He shrugged.
"It doesn't matter. You won't find me next time."

"What if I
need your help?"

The Shrike
turned and went to the door, where he waited for her to join him
before leading her down the corridor. He set a brisk pace, which
made it difficult to talk, so she followed him in silence. To her
surprise, he took her back to her apartment and pointed at a black
one-piece suit draped over the back of a chair.

"Put that on.
And to answer your previous question, why the hell should I help
you any more than I already have?"

She glanced at
the clothes. "Why must I wear that?"

"Because, in
case you haven't noticed, my people think you're a slaver, come to
do business with me. They don't like rival slavers, which is why I
had to have you guarded. My rivals visit me rarely, and when they
do, they don't wander about the station, not even in my company. It
makes my people angry. So put on the suit."

The Shrike
stepped back, and the door shut in her face. She picked up the suit
with its hawk-like emblem and went into the bedroom to change. He
was becoming more and more confusing, this strange man, and she
could not figure him out at all. When she had been afraid, he had
been gentle and kind, but firm and mysterious too. Now he was
harsher, brisk, suspicious, and downright rude.

When she had
changed, she found Tarke waiting outside, and followed him back
down the corridor that led to the hangars. The guards were absent,
so apparently he had dismissed them outside her apartment. They
marched through the room with the glass-walled office and into the
next hangar, where she had seen the black ship before. It was still
there, or perhaps it had returned, and she gazed up at it with a
thrill of awe.

"This
one?"

He nodded.
"Its name is Shadowen. It's the same ship you travelled in to
Octovar One."

"I thought it
was your special ship?"

"It was, but
I've built a new one, slightly better, but basically this one's
twin. I even cloned the bio-crystalline brain. They're almost
identical. Shadowen is twenty years old, which is not young by a
ship's standards. It was due for an overhaul and a refit, which
it's had now, since the new one's been in service. I had planned to
use them both, but I don't really need two."

Rayne gazed at
the ship. "She's beautiful."

"I wouldn't
call Shadowen a 'she', if I was you. It's a moot point, but the
brain prefers a masculine title. I'm assuming your guide had one of
my companion ships in mind when he told you to ask me for a ship,
since they're my best, far superior to anything Atlan has. They're
faster, and able to withstand more stress than a bigger ship, like
a battle cruiser. But it has a good deal of firepower and an
excellent Net link, which is a ship's most important asset.

"As long as
it's linked to the Net, this ship can hold its own in battle with a
cruiser the size of Vengeance. Not only does it have a number of
fore and aft energy weapons, it also has one-way stress screens,
which the Atlanteans don't. Their ships have to lower their screens
for an instant to fire their weapons, this one doesn't."