Slave Empire III - The Shrike (35 page)

The Ship moved
away from the planet, tearing its wings from the shuddering earth
with deep, distant rumbles mixed with dull reports. Another immense
spear shattered with a deafening thunderclap, and blocks of crystal
the size of skyscrapers fell to hit the ground with giant booms,
sending tremors through it. The planet was taking a further
pounding as the Crystal Ship freed itself. She had no idea what
manner of propulsion Scrysalza used, but somehow the Ship was
reversing, dragging its wings from the earth. Crystal spears were
also retracting, being torn from the trembling ground to slide into
their slots. The Ship, she realised, would be half blind, since
some of its spears were buried. It appeared that Endrix had been
wrong after all, although his deduction was logical. Something as
massive and delicate as a crystal ship should not have been able to
withstand gravity.

Tarke towed her
up the steps into the cruiser, his men entering behind them, their
weapons at the ready. Nothing was going to threaten them now, she
was sure. The Atlanteans who had escaped the Crystal Ship’s deadly
blast of emotional torment would be fleeing for their lives. The
portal slid shut and the cruiser drifted into the sky, and Rayne
gazed out of a screen at Scrysalza, the enormity of what the Ship
had done more clearly visible from the air. The Ship was like a
giant burr on the planet’s surface, impaling it with sparkling
spears, and, taking into account its wingspan, it was almost a
quarter of the size of Atlan. The shockwave of its emergence and
impact had swept away the clouds for thousands of kilometres around
the site of the collision, leaving a vast circular area of the
surface visible from space. Shimmering shafts of light shone from
the Ship’s uppermost spears. She became aware of Tarke speaking to
someone close by.

“Send a
message. Stop the battle. Tell them I’m safe.”

The officer
nodded and hurried off, and she turned her attention back to the
scene in the screen. Scrysalza’s wings slowly emerged from the
soil, some cracked, most with the tips broken off, and all brown
with dirt. Fresh tears stung her eyes for the gentle, giant
creature that had injured itself so badly to save its friend, and
used its pain and anguish to kill his enemies. It had known she and
Tarke would survive, just as they had survived the battle with the
Envoy. The lines of light it emitted seemed to be growing brighter.
She pressed up against the screen to keep the ship in sight as the
cruiser turned away, and Tarke said something to someone. A minute
later he touched her arm, and she glanced around. A vidscreen had
been set up on the crystal-topped table, showing an image of
Scrysalza as it broke free of the planet. The Crystal Ship had
freed its wings, which swept through the atmosphere as the Ship
drifted away. Due to its size, the bulk of it remained in space,
and the upper atmosphere flamed around the junction. Rayne wondered
if that hurt, hoping it did not.

The cruiser
ascended into space, and Rayne gasped in awe as a further five
crystal ships became visible on the vidscreen, rotating with
majestic torpor, slashing space with lances of brilliance. They
were quite close to the planet, in geosynchronous orbit. Each one
emitted a wavering conduit of radiance that led to Scrysalza, and
she understood how the Ship had survived its impact with the
planet. The other ships supported its vast array of crystal
filigree wings with their luminous power, and drew it back into
space. Endrix was right after all. The Ship had required the aid of
its kin to do what it had. The fact that six ships had answered her
call for help made Rayne’s heart swell with gratitude and awe. Then
again, if Tarke’s men had not freed the ships, they would not have
been able to help Scrysalza save him.

The Crystal
Ship had almost cleared the planet’s atmosphere, the tips of its
wings afire as it moved away, shining like a colossal star. A
flotilla of black ships orbited Atlan, and the burnt out shells of
Atlantean warships adrift amongst them. More ink-black ships still
arrived, emerging from golden Net shells with their weapons
deployed. None fired, however. The battle was won. Scimarin drew
alongside the cruiser that carried them, and Shadowen followed him.
Her heart seemed in danger of bursting. She glanced at Scrysalza,
relieved to find that the Ship had left Atlan’s atmosphere
completely, and flew free once more. The conduits of shimmering
radiance that linked it to the other crystal ships faded, becoming
ghostly afterimages.

Rayne dragged
her attention from the screen to take in her surroundings. She sat
beside Tarke on a pale grey sofa in a plain, grey carpeted cabin
with white walls. The door buzzed, and Tarke raised a hand to
shield his face as it slid opened and an officer filled it. He
placed a mask, skullcap, throat guard and an armload of clothes on
the chair by the door, then retreated. Tarke rose, picked them up
and went into an adjoining room, which she assumed was a bathroom.
He emerged five minutes later, once again her faceless husband clad
in black and grey. He held out his gloved hand and, with a last
quick glance at the vidscreen, she rose and took it.

Outside,
crewmen clustered in whispering groups, and turned to salute the
Shrike when he emerged. They parted to grant him access to a
transfer plate in a sizeable lounge, and when he and Rayne stood
upon it, Tarke turned to them, gripped his right wrist and held it
out. A shout went up from the men, and then a Net shell engulfed
Rayne and the Shrike. It dispersed in a cavernous hold, where rows
of uniformed men stood waiting. An officer stepped forward to
salute Tarke. Judging by the smoke in the air and the buckled hull
in places, this ship had been in the thick of the battle. Only when
they arrived in a familiar lounge did she realise that they were
aboard Empire. Vidan trotted towards them, his eyes shimmering with
tears. She thought he was going to try to hug Tarke, but he stopped
a pace away and beamed instead.

“God, Tarke;
it’s bloody good to see you in one piece.”

“It’s good to
be in one piece.” Tarke’s voice was husky and raw.

Vidan nodded.
“I’ll leave you two alone.”

Rayne went over
to the screen to gaze out at Scrysalza, which had joined its kin,
the six ships rotating in unison just beyond Atlan’s larger moon.
The Crystal Ship was easy to spot, being significantly dimmer than
its kin, its wings truncated and ragged. Faint lines of light still
linked the other five to it, as if they fed and healed it. She
longed to thank the crystalline entity, but no alien thoughts
brushed her mind. Perhaps it was still recovering. She faced the
Shrike, who sat on a settee, his head turned towards her. She went
over and sat beside him. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she
blinked them back.

“Tarke… I’m
so
sorry.”

The Shrike
sighed and shook his head, pulling off his gloves. He tossed them
on the table and removed his mask, skullcap and throat guard,
dropping them beside his gloves. His face was tense and drawn; his
eyes, which avoided hers, were haunted.

“It’s okay,” he
said. “I’m just glad we made it.”

“I never
thought they would -”

“Hey.” He sat
forward and took her hand, rubbing it. “Don’t… blame yourself. They
set a trap for you. You shouldn’t have come here, but I understand
why you did. But then, you saved me, too.”

“Scrysalza
saved us.”

“Yes, because
you called it… somehow.”

She shook her
head. “I’ll never -”

“Hush. Enough
now.”

“What happened?
One minute I was visiting Rawn in the hospital, and the next I woke
up and you were lying beside me, drugged.”

He nodded. “An
Atlantean councillor told me you’d be their prisoner for the rest
of your life.” A slight smile tugged at his mouth. “I told him to
keep you. So then I called Shadowen and got his story. I came to
get you, of course.”

“Just you? Are
you nuts?”

“Many think so.
I’m one of them. Yes, just me. I came in Shadowen, undetected, but
they caught me. I guess you confirmed my identity when they put me
with you. I woke up on the slab.”

“You’re hurt.
You should go to the hospital.”

“The Atlanteans
seemed to have patched me up okay.”

“You should
still go.”

He inclined his
head. “Later.”

“At least… I
think all the Atlanteans who saw you are now dead.”

“I hope so,
yeah. They might have taken holographs, though. And a lot of my
people will need to be mind-wiped. I must go and talk to the men.”
He picked up his mask and donned it, pulling on his gloves as he
rose to his feet.

“Can I come?”
she asked.

“Of
course.”

On the way to
the bridge, she noticed that he was limping. When he entered the
dim, quiet control room, which bore battle scars in the form of
blackened consoles and dead screens, Empire’s commander, a large
Shirran woman with fierce eyes and a scarred cheek, stood up and
saluted.

“Commander
Jargan,” Tarke greeted her.

“
Dalreen
.”

“Report.”

“Sir. We lost
eighty-five ships in the battle; one battleship: Dreadnaught, three
battle cruisers, one of which was Star Blade, nine destroyers,
including Fire Blade and Fearsome, fourteen frigates and
fifty-eight civilian craft. Seventeen more were damaged. Empire has
sustained major damage, but she destroyed Orion and Repulse. There
were a hundred and fifteen Atlantean warships in orbit when we
arrived. Now there are two scout ships and four frigates.”

“Civilian
craft?” Tarke asked. “What the hell were civilian craft doing
here?”

“They came to
help,
Dalreen
. They intended to land and invade. Some rammed
Atlantean warships.” She raised her chin proudly. “
Dalreen
,
when we received your distress call, every single ship responded.
Over three thousand vessels answered your call.”

Tarke shook his
head. “I didn’t send a distress call.”

“Then it was
your ship, Shadowen.”

“How many
died?”

She hesitated.
“Seven thousand, eight hundred and ninety-two gladly laid down
their lives,
Dalreen
.”

“Which ship
picked me up?”

“The battle
cruiser Invincible had the honour, sir.”

“Put me on the
space line to all ships, Commander.”

Jargan
signalled to one of the crewmen, who tapped the keys on a pad in
front of him, and a sweet single tone came from the coms console.
Rayne guessed that it was also broadcast ship- and fleet-wide, to
alert everyone to Tarke’s transmission.

“Go ahead,
sir.”

Tarke faced the
main screen. “My people.” He paused for several seconds. “All my
ships. You have gone far beyond anything I could, or would, ever
have asked of you; especially those who came here in unarmed
vessels, willing to sacrifice yourselves. I am proud to be the one
you have chosen to lead you. Better, braver comrades do not exist
anywhere in the galaxy. I grieve for those who lost their lives
today, and their names will be inscribed on the Wall of Remembrance
on Ironia. They… and their sacrifice… will never be forgotten. I am
forever indebted to you… all of you… I thank you.”

Tarke clasped
his right wrist and held it out, and a collective indrawn breath
went around the bridge, but no one turned their back on him. He
turned and limped towards the bridge door, and several crewmen
surreptitiously wiped their eyes.

“
Dalreen
,” Jargan said. “A moment, please.”

Tarke turned to
her. “Of course, Commander.”

“I just want to
say, on behalf of all of us, how glad we are that you’re alive.
Every man and woman came here willingly, and those who died are
heroes to the rest of us.”

Tarke inclined
his head. “As they are to me, Jargan.”

“We accept the
tribute from you on this day, but never again. We’re still forever
in your debt,
Dalreen
.”

The Shrike
glanced around the bridge, and the crewmen nodded, some
smiling.

Jargan said, “I
would also like to show you something.”

“Go ahead.”

Jargan
signalled to a crewman, and the image on the main screen changed to
one of Atlan. The huge hole remained in the clouds, and, through
it, immense scars were visible on the planet’s surface. Deep chasms
had been torn in the crust, some glinting with water in their
depths. A crystal spear crushed thousands of kilometres of forest,
and smaller shattered shards, all the size of cities, glittered in
the sun.

Jargan looked
at him. “Atlan will never forget the day they made the mistake of
trying to kill the Shrike.”

“Indeed,
Commander. Neither will I.”

“It’s a miracle
that the Crystal Ship came to your aid,
Dalreen
.”

Tarke shook his
head. “It did so, Commander, because we came to its aid, without
expecting anything in return. That’s how it’s supposed to work, and
if everyone helped those in need, no one would ever be in
need.”

“Just as you
did for us, and still do.”

“I only do
what’s right.”

“And we love
you for it,
Dalreen
.”

“Commander,
stop embarrassing me. I must go to the hospital.”

“Of course,
sir.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

Tarke left the
bridge, and Rayne followed. The love that radiated from the bridge
crew suffused her heart, and she supposed that it was a good thing
Tarke was not an empath. Massive guilt also burdened her spirit.
Tarke’s people had died coming to his rescue because of her
foolishness. If not for her, he would never have put himself in
danger. The burden was a heavy one, and now, she guessed, they
would follow him everywhere to keep him safe. She was sure this was
not something he wanted, although he probably understood it, just
as she did. As she traversed an outer corridor, she sensed the
brush of a shy alien mind and stopped, going to the nearest screen
to gaze out at the six crystal ships.