Slave Empire - Prophecy (29 page)

He headed for
an almost invisible door in the sleek hull. "By the way, if you try
to hand this ship over to the Atlanteans, it will return to me, and
you won't be received so cordially if you come here again."

"I
wouldn't."

He stopped
beside the door. "But they might try to take it. They'd love to get
their hands on one of my ships and study it. Shadowen won't allow
that either."

Rayne nodded.
"If necessary, I'll stay away from Atlan."

"Where else
would you go?"

"I don't know.
I want to visit Endrix's world. He said I could, but if the
Atlanteans try to take the ship, I'll have to find somewhere else
to wait for the Envoy to appear."

Tarke faced
her in silence for several seconds, as if trying to decide what to
make of her, then turned to the ship. The door opened with a hiss,
and two steps floated out to hang suspended on antigravity fields.
He walked up them, vanishing within. Rayne followed him into a dim
bridge, where tiny crystals glowed and a soft background hum sent
faint vibrations under her feet.

"Hello,
Tarke." A bland, sexless voice, which she assumed was the ship,
spoke out of the gloom.

"Shadowen,
this is Rayne," the Shrike said. "I'm loaning you to her for a
while. She has a mission. When she's completed it, you'll return to
me."

A pregnant
silence fell, and she could have sworn she sensed the ship's
confusion and dismay, but that was impossible, since it was a
machine. It said, "Very well."

"You'll have
to be linked to her biorhythms for the duration."

"I
understand."

Dark turned to
her. "My companion ships are linked to my biorhythms, so if I die
they self-destruct. I can't leave him linked to me, in case
something happens to me, but he has to be linked to someone."

She nodded.
"Okay."

He faced a
console, and a slot opened on it. It looked like a neural net
sensor pad, and she shot him an enquiring glance.

"It is a
neural net slot, I'm afraid," he answered her thoughts. "Shadowen
requires a brief link, to learn your particular patterns and
rhythms. It will only take a moment."

With a slight
grimace, she slid her hand into the slot and shut her eyes as the
data stream swept through her brain. Far more information appeared
than she had experienced on the scout ship. The river of knowledge
was too deep to plumb, and was not meant to be. She sensed that
anyone who tried to control this ship through the neural net would
be driven mad in moments by the sheer mass and complexity of the
information within it.

Emotions were
mixed with the flood of words and numbers, as if she read a
person's mind, which made her uncomfortable. Mercifully, the link
only last a few seconds, then the grey nothingness of the no-place
filled her mind, and she pulled her hand out, staggering a little
as emptiness flooded her brain on the heels of the neural net's
occupation.

Tarke gripped
her arm and guided her to the solitary, form-fitting seat that
faced the screens, and she sank into it. The Shrike stood beside
her, his gloved hands clasped before him.

"Now you have
a ship. One that won't allow a stranger to enter without your
permission or any harm come to you, if he can possibly stop it. His
loyalty will cause him to sacrifice himself, if necessary, to save
you. He does not require a neural link during flight. He's quite
capable of dealing with almost any situation, and if he can't,
he'll tell you. You can tell him where to go, then go and sleep, if
you want. It's like having a pilot, only this one's part of the
ship."

"He's
amazing," she murmured.

"Thank you,"
the ship replied. "It's good to be appreciated."

"Will he still
be loyal to you as well?"

Dark nodded.
"I'm afraid so. No chance of stealing him. He'll always obey me,
but then, I won't be around."

Her face grew
hot, and she was glad of the gloom. "I wasn't thinking of stealing
him. I just wondered."

"He could have
told you that himself."

A sudden
thought made her smile. "I daresay I could learn a lot from him. He
must even know what you look like."

"Well, that's
an unpleasant fact, isn't it? Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm
afraid he won't oblige." His voice was hard, and he swung away,
striding to the door.

Rayne hurried
after him, catching up as he marched past the glass office.
"Tarke..."

He ignored
her, and she followed him back to her apartment, where he turned to
face her, making no effort to hide his anger. "Is that what this is
all about? Are you just an Atlantean spy with a great way of
tricking me into revealing my secrets?"

"No! If I was,
I wouldn't have made that comment, would I?"

"Not unless
you were incredibly stupid, but sometimes I do wonder. You seem so
naive, yet you're charged with saving the Atlantean Empire, and you
tell some pretty amazing stories. The worst part is, I believed
you. I still do." He turned away, raising a hand as if to run it
through his hair, then encountered the mask and lowered it. "What
is it about you, anyway?"

"What do you
mean?"

"I find myself
talking to you far too much, and I never talk to people. You have a
knack for asking the wrong questions, and I have to stop myself
answering them. You're dangerous."

She shook her
head, confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I was
kidding, really."

He swung
around. "No you weren't. You would have asked him. Fortunately,
it's the one thing he won't tell anyone. But he'll tell you a lot
of other things, most of which you'll find very hard to
believe."

"The truth
about you?"

"Yes."

She sank down
on a chair, her legs weak. "Is it so terrible?"

"If it reaches
the ears of my enemies, yes."

"The
Atlanteans?"

He sat
opposite, shaking his head. "No. They wouldn't believe it. I should
never have agreed to loan you one of my ships. What was I
thinking?"

"I won't
betray you." The urge to jump on him and rip off the mask was
overwhelming. "Who are your enemies? Other slavers? What are you
hiding from them?"

He stood up
and strode over to the dispenser to pour himself a fizzy green
drink. "I should never have agreed to see you. I wouldn't, if you
hadn't mentioned Elliadaren. I had a feeling this would happen." He
sipped his drink and walked closer, clearly ill at ease. She
watched him, uncertain of what to say. Finally he murmured, "All
right, I'll tell you, since you'll find out anyway. But first you
must swear never to tell another slaver."

"I don't know
any -"

"You'll meet a
few, I have no doubt. Drevina was one, and there are plenty more.
Assume everyone is a slaver until you know they're not. All my
people know the truth about me, but they'd never reveal it, not
even under torture. So, if you want that ship, you'll swear to keep
my secret."

"A
condition?"

He nodded.
"Unfortunately, I can't order Shadowen not to tell you about me.
I've given you the highest authority with him, and I can't lend him
to you without it. If I tried to prevent him from telling you, it
would confuse him, and he wouldn't be able to function
properly."

Rayne gazed at
him, recalling Endrix's enigmatic words. The prospect of learning
at least some of his secrets excited her, and she was ready to
agree to just about anything to achieve it. This window into his
mystery was an unexpected boon, a strange by-product of his loaning
her the ship. "I swear that whatever you're about to tell me will
die with me, unspoken."

"Well, that's
a pretty promise. Couldn't have worded it better myself." He sank
down on the chair next to hers, putting his drink on the table.
"I'll make it brief. I'm not a slaver."

Rayne stared
at him, stunned, as a lot of things made sense and she realised
Drayalia had been telling the truth. Some things still confused
her, however, and she frowned. "But... all the people here..."

"Are ex-slaves
I've rescued, and sworn to my service. That's what I do, steal
slaves from slavers and free them. All my crews and their families,
every person who works for me was once a slave. That's how I know
they won't betray me. Even those who are still in slavery know
about me, but they'll never betray me, because I'm their only hope
of salvation. If the other slavers ever found out, they'd have me
assassinated."

"But... I saw
a woman begging you, on her knees..."

He turned his
head away. "She wasn't begging, she was thanking me for saving her.
Sometimes they get emotional. It's embarrassing."

"And the
Mar'Ashan you killed?"

"Jamdar. A
bastard. He was selling slaves to the Saurians in the Outer Belt."
At her puzzled look he added, "They don't need slaves for labour or
entertainment, they eat them."

She raised a
hand to her mouth in horror, sour bile burning her throat. "Oh,
god."

"Quite. I
needed pretty bait to corner that monster, and you were it. I knew
exactly what sort of female slaves he liked for his entertainment,
and in exchange I got two hundred starved, miserable sods destined
for the Outer Belt. He used to buy second and third-grade slaves in
bulk, ones who were old, sick or maimed. Children with no potential
and women burnt out by drugs."

He turned his
head briefly in her direction, and she sensed a flash of pain from
him. "I had no intention of allowing him to take you. After his
death became public, I raided his bases and saved five hundred
more, but thousands before them died."

"And the
seventy-four slavers you've killed? They weren't just rivals,
then?"

"No." He
picked up his drink and sipped it. "And it's a lot more than
seventy-four. The Atlanteans try to fight slavery, but they're
useless at it. They raid the odd base, rescue a few slaves, maybe
even arrest a slaver from time to time. But to know what's really
going on, you need to be in the thick of things, like me. Oddly
enough, killing off other slavers has proved profitable, and at the
same time I've been able to free countless slaves. It's the biggest
business in space. Bodies are in great demand, and for a variety of
purposes, from taming raw, hostile planets to pandering to the
demands of the rich and debauched."

"Did you
really think I'd betray you to your rivals?"

"No, not
really, I suppose. You're clearly against slavery, and I saved you
from a collar, too, whether or not you appreciate it."

She looked
away. "I do now. Then I was too angry and confused. So why did you
lie to me?"

"So you
wouldn't come back. When you thought I was a slaver, you didn't
want anything more to do with me, did you? It would have worked,
too, if not for this guide of yours. The fewer free people who know
the truth about me, the safer I am. Slaves will never betray
me."

She hesitated.
"Why did you think I'd want to come back? I didn't plan to, nor
would I, if not for Endrix, even if you'd told me the truth
then."

"Wouldn't you?
Perhaps I underestimated your maturity. A girl your age tends to
harbour romantic notions, and knowing I'm not the evil slaver you
thought, you might have wanted to return and unveil my secrets." He
cocked his head. "Perhaps you even hoped to find a handsome prince
behind this mask, and dreamt of a fairy tale ending, like Robin
Hood."

Rayne cursed
the blood that crept into her face, unable to hide her
embarrassment, and tried to brazen it out. "I'll admit, I'm still
curious about what you're hiding and why. That's only natural, but
I'm not such a naive romantic. I never had any such ambitions, and
still don't."

"That's good."
He stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend
to. Leave whenever you're ready, and good luck."

The Shrike
headed for the door without a backward glance, and was gone before
she could collect her scattered wits. She stared at the door for
several minutes, puzzled and disappointed. Knowing the truth about
him only increased her fascination, which he had already sensed, to
her embarrassment. Yet when she should have wanted nothing more
than to quit his station and his company to prove him wrong, she
found herself longing to stay and talk to him some more. Determined
to thwart her foolish desires, she packed and left the apartment,
heading for the hangar.

Its smooth,
sexless voice welcomed her aboard, and she settled into the
form-fitting chair after stowing her baggage. When she asked how to
go about leaving the base, Shadowen informed her that he could do
all that was necessary, and all she had to do was sit back and
enjoy the ride. The soft hum of the anti-gravity coils increased,
and the dome above rolled open, allowing egress. She experienced a
pang of regret as the dull brown world shrank on the screens,
wondering if she would ever see the Shrike again.

*****

The story continues in Book II,
The
Crystal Ship
, also published at Smashwords.
Book III,
The Shrike
, will follow soon.

About the
author

T. C.
Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles when
she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands
– mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she
developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through
Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in
South Africa.

T. C.
Southwell has written over twenty novels and five screenplays. Her
hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a
living in the IT industry.