Slave Empire III - The Shrike (4 page)

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Authors: T C Southwell

Tags: #vengeance, #rescue, #space battle, #retribution, #execution, #empaths, #telepaths, #war of empires

BOOK: Slave Empire III - The Shrike
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“What do we
have? An occasional dinner together when you’re not off saving the
universe, or, at least, your corner of it. A little pleasant
conversation. That’s not a marriage.”

“Oh, so you
want the whole deal now, do you? I set out the conditions of the
marriage before you agreed, and you knew what you were getting
into. Now you’re not happy with it.”

She looked
away, hating to seem so ungrateful. “It’s not that I don’t
appreciate what you’ve done for me...”

“But you want
more. Well, I’m afraid I can’t oblige. Sorry.”

“Why?”

He closed his
eyes and shook his head. “I hate that question.”

“Is it because
you don’t care for me like a husband? Are you incapable of such
feelings?”

“No.”

“Then you do
-”

“Damn it,
Rayne, will you stop fishing? You’re not going to catch what you
want, and that’s a promise. My feelings are not the issue; nor are
yours. I don’t pry, so leave mine out of it too. This topic is best
left alone, for both our sakes. If it’s breached, it will be bad
for us, perhaps even destroy what we have. Do you want that?”

“No.” She
stepped back, surprised by his vehemence. “Then does this mean
we’ll never -?”

“Yes. That’s
what it means.” His eyes glowed in the bathroom’s cool lights.
“Happy now? We’ll never have more than this, and this is what you
accepted. This is what you agreed to. There’s no way out of the
deal now, and that’s the end of it. Make the most of it. Find
something else to distract yourself. Open a casino on Lericon,
build a monument on Triban, start a hospital on Grandor. Whatever
you want. You have unlimited choices. You have no reason to be
unhappy.”

His words hurt,
and Rayne searched his face for clues to his rejection until he
looked away. She reached for his emotions as she had never done
before, probing his shields until he frowned, but he still refused
to look at her. All she could sense was a deep unhappiness tinged
with anger, which only told her that he meant what he said.
Swallowing the lump of misery that blocked her throat, she lowered
her gaze to the floor.

“Then there’s
nothing more to say,” she murmured.

“No, there
isn’t.” When she headed for the main doors, he asked, “Where are
you going?”

“Back to my
apartment, where I belong.”

He overtook her
and blocked her way again. “Are you all right?”

“Such concern,”
she said, glaring at him. “If you’re worried that I might try to
drown my sorrows in drugs again, don’t. I’m not stupid enough to
make that mistake twice, although apparently I am stupid enough to
marry a man who didn’t want a wife.”

He hesitated
before placing his hands on her shoulders, and she supressed a
shiver at his touch. “I did,” he said. “I do. We’re a great team,
and we have fun together, don’t we?” She nodded, and he went on, “I
can talk to you, and you know more of my secrets than anyone else.
You’re a great help, telling me when my enemies are lying and
running the dome. Your empathy doesn’t bother me, and I hope my
peculiarities don’t bother you too much. Let’s make the most of
what we have, okay?”

“If you won’t
tell me why we’re not together, will you tell me why you married
me?”

He released
her, looking away. “I told you at the time; you deserved a better
life. You’d have killed yourself eventually. Is that any way for
the Golden Child to end up? The girl who saved Atlan, and the rest
of us, probably.” He smiled and glanced at her with eyes that
looked like they could melt steel. “You’re my heroine, and I’m your
guardian. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” she said,
struggling to hide her tears. “I thought there would be more.”

“I’m sorry,
Rayne. I can’t offer you more. It just isn’t possible. I wish I
could.”

“Does it have
something to do with your being Antian?”

His brows rose.
“Perhaps a little. But don’t start your guessing games now.”

“Does it have
something to do with me?”

He turned away,
his expression shuttered. “It’s complicated.”

“What?”

“I don’t want
to hurt you. I know how badly you react to shocks. You might slip
away, and I’ll never get you back.”

Rayne pushed
past him and escaped out of the door.

 

 

Tarke swung
away as the portal slid open. He had forgotten to lock it, he
realised, and that was how she had been able to enter without him
knowing. The door scanner was programmed to allow only two people
instant access, her and Vidan. His apartment was deep within the
command wing of the main building, and unobtrusive security
measures all along the corridors that led to it ensured no one
without top security access would be outside. Nevertheless, his
reaction to the open door was instinctive, born of decades of
hiding his identity. He stared at the door after it closed behind
her, trapped by his lack of a mask and shirt, and wondered if he
should go after her or leave her alone for a while. A pang of
sorrow went through him as he recalled Vidan’s warning. Shortly
after she had arrived at the base, he had asked the Atlantean to
conduct some discreet tests, worried by the dazed spells she
sometimes had.

The results had
been disturbing. According to the medical scanner Vidan had fitted
in her room, she had a dangerous psychological condition, an
imbalance in her brain’s electrical structure. The only explanation
was that her brain was badly scarred, and the matrix of her mind
had shifted. The experts Vidan had consulted had told him that a
shock could trigger the condition.

The Envoy’s
scars went deep, and she teetered on the brink of an abyss that
could swallow her reason and put her into a permanent coma. That
prospect terrified him. The thought of losing her made him shake
with unfocussed anger and dread. The mere sight of his scars had
been enough to send her into a blank spell; learning the truth
about him and ending her dreams of a proper marriage might prove
too much.

For the same
reason, he could never tell her how he felt, or allow her to get
too close to him. Her touch made him shudder, but how could he ever
explain why? How could he tell her that no one had touched his skin
for over fifty years, until she had so briefly held his hand? She
would never understand how uncomfortable that had made him, even
though it had not been as bad as it should have. Since she had come
to the base, her attempts to hold his hand had discomfited him on
several occasions. She had no idea of the depravities he had
suffered, and he did not think she would be able to deal with it.
He cursed and headed for the bathroom to take the shower he had
been planning.

When Rayne did
not join him for dinner, he went to her apartment. Finding it
empty, he headed for the station’s command centre, using his cyber
implant to send a query ahead to Vidan. The Atlantean was clearly
surprised that Tarke contacted him via the base’s cyber-linked
communications system, since he rarely used it. He replied that
Rayne had left the base two hours before to visit her brother on
Darmon, and she had told him Tarke knew about it.

“She lied,”
Tarke said as he entered the command centre. “She didn’t tell me
anything.”

Vidan regarded
him with deep alarm. “What’s happened?”

“She’s upset.
She asked a bunch of questions I couldn’t answer.”

“Couldn’t or
wouldn’t?”

“One more shock
could push her over the edge. You said it.” Tarke loomed over the
short man.

“That’s true,
but this might be worse. She might not find the truth all that bad,
you know.”

“What escort
does she have?”

“She didn’t
want one. I told her she had no choice and assigned two cruisers,
but she didn’t wait for them.”

Tarke thumped a
console, making the holograms flicker. “Damn it!”

“Darmon should
be safe. The Atlanteans don’t own it.”

“No, the damned
Yasmarians do, and they’re Atlan’s allies. If Tallyn’s got any
brains at all, he’ll have set a trap at her brother’s house, won’t
he?”

Vidan looked
aghast. “You really think they’d do that?”

“You tell me;
they’re your people. How low would they stoop to capture me, huh?
To put an end to what they think is the biggest slaver empire in
the galaxy.”

“Pretty low,”
Vidan muttered. “But the Golden Child? They wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe they
would, if they thought they could keep it quiet. What the public
don’t know, they won’t complain about. By the time they release her
they’ll be celebrating my capture, won’t they?”

Vidan groaned.
“Why didn’t you just tell her the truth?”

“She’s not
ready for it. She may never be. I won’t risk it.”

“You haven’t
even told her how you feel.”

“How the hell
do you know that?” Tarke demanded.

“She told me.
She asked me why you married her.”

“And what did
you say?”

“I told her to
ask you.”

Tarke cursed.
“That’s only made the situation worse. Now she thinks we’re all in
on the conspiracy, ganging up on her because she’s an empath.”

“Why would she
think that?”

“Because she
is
an empath! You want paranoia by the ship load? Find an
empath who’s been around a lot of people, and you’ll find enough
paranoia to infect the populations of ten planets.”

“What will you
do?” Vidan asked.

“I’m going
after her, of course.”

“Do you think
you should? I mean, perhaps she just needs a bit of company. It’s
not like you spend much time with her, so you’ve got to let her do
her own thing once in a while.”

“Are you
implying that I’m being overprotective?”

Vidan sighed.
“I won’t pretend to be able to imagine what goes on in that weird
head of yours, Tarke, but you can’t wrap the girl in cotton wool;
you’ll smother her. She’s safe with the cruisers. Those guys know
what’s at stake.” He held up a finger. “Not that I think you’re
telling the truth, mind you. I think you’re making a mistake, but
then, maybe you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. But
you can’t keep setting off false alarms on the base when you need
an excuse to get away from her, either. It’s not fair to the
workers, or her.”

“I should have
glued your lips together a long time ago.”

“Then you’ll
stay here?”

“No, I’m going
to follow her,” Tarke said. “She won’t know I’m there.”

“I’ll find an
escort.”

“They won’t be
able to keep up.”

“Tarke...”

He waved a
hand. “I’ll be careful.”

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Rayne ran into
Rawn’s arms as soon as the energy shell dispersed. He lifted her
off her feet and swung her around, chuckling. They stood in the
lounge of his modest house on Darmon, whose somewhat drab décor of
brown and white seemed cheap and tasteless compared to the elegant
opulence of the Shrike’s base. Rawn’s petite, doe-eyed Mansurian
wife watched them with a smile. Like most Mansurians, she was an
Atlantean crossbreed, and claimed that her other half was human.
She certainly looked human. Her skin possessed only a slight
metallic sheen and her hair was almost monotone brown. As before,
she met Rayne with ill-concealed hostility, most of which came from
jealousy. Her false smile grated on Rayne’s nerves, but she ignored
her senses and returned it with as much enthusiasm as she could
muster.

Rawn radiated
joy and worry, sending his wife hard glances to ensure she behaved.
Norva went to fetch refreshments, and Rayne sat on a comfortable
chair. Rawn settled opposite and beamed at her, and she found his
familiar, warm presence and soft tawny eyes a balm to her wounded
ego after her disastrous confrontation with Tarke. Unfortunately,
once the banalities were out of the way, he was the first subject
Rawn brought up.

“So, not only
are you a celebrity now, but the wife of the most notorious slaver
in the galaxy.” Rawn’s cheerful smile belied his true feelings of
disappointment, and his remark was only half teasing.

“He’s not a
slaver. He’s a kind, gentle man.”

“And you love
him?”

“Yes.”

“Does he love
you?”

“Of course,”
she lied. “Why else would he ask me to marry him?”

“Maybe you’re
another prize to add to his collection.”

“In what
way?”

He spread his
hands. “Well, you’re the Golden Child.”

“He doesn’t
collect things.”

“Does he even
have a face?”

“Of course.”
She flushed when he raised his brows.

“So you’ve seen
it?”

“I didn’t say
that. Everyone’s got a face.”

“Some people
say he’s a monster, and that’s why he wears the mask. Is he?” When
she bit her lip, he grinned. “Come on Ray, you can tell me. I’m not
an Atlantean spy, you know. You must have seen his face. How could
he hide it from his wife?”

His derision
spurred her, and she lifted her chin. “Yes, I’ve seen it, and he’s
not a monster.”

“And he lets
you wander about with that memory in your head? Very dangerous, I’d
have thought.”

“I have
protection.” She frowned. “Why are you so curious about him?”

“Well, he’s my
brother-in-law now. And I haven’t even met him, nor am I likely to,
am I?”

“Do you want
to?”

He smiled.
“Maybe.”

Norva entered
with a tray of finger food and drinks, depositing it on the low
table with a smile. “Dig in, chaps.”

Rawn reached
for a smoked Atrasian eggroll. He had gained more weight, Rayne
noticed, and his stomach bulged over his belt.

“Married life
agrees with you, I see,” she remarked.

He patted his
paunch. “After years of near starvation, I’m enjoying the fruits of
your fame, sis.”

“The Atlanteans
are supporting you?”

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