Slave Empire III - The Shrike (8 page)

Rayne deserved
the truth; or at least as much of it as she could handle. He would
tell her gradually, in stages, to prevent the shock that might be
dangerous. For all her inner strength, she was as fragile as a
crystal flower from the windless world of Terrian, which the
slightest breeze would shatter. It would make her unhappy, though.
He smiled. She would want to fix it.

“Still no word
from Shadowen?” he asked.

“No.”

“I wonder what
they’re planning now.” He frowned. “How many of my ships are in
position?”

“Twelve ships
are within striking distance of Atlantean planets. No battles have
been engaged as yet, but Atlantean ships are shadowing some of
them.”

“They’ll have
to hand her back, or face the consequences, which I know they don’t
want to do. Of course, they might also have what they wanted.”

“It is
possible,” Scimarin agreed. “From her earlier physical distress,
they did probe her.”

“That will
start a whole new chapter in our little game of ‘catch me while I’m
napping if you can’. Contact Tallyn. Let’s find out.”

After a pause,
the ship replied, “He won’t accept your call. The stress shield and
energy shell have been deactivated on the facility. Shadowen is
transferring Rayne aboard now.”

Tarke smiled.
“So, he’s keeping his word. I thought he might.”

“A message from
Shadowen: you should transfer to him immediately.”

“Why?”

“He does not
say.”

Tarke jumped
up. “Something’s wrong. Transfer me.”

“I am still
decelerating, but parameters are within safety limits for shell
dispersal. Deactivating energy shell. Transfer, now.”

Tarke glanced
around his old ship’s apparently empty bridge as the golden energy
vanished. “Where is she?”

“At your feet,”
Shadowen replied.

Tarke dropped
to his knees beside Rayne’s huddled form and rolled her onto her
back. She appeared to be unconscious. He scooped her up and carried
her to the cabin, where he placed her on the bed.

He sat beside
her and patted her cheek, murmuring, “Come on; snap out of it,
Rayne. You’re safe. I’m here. Wake up. Rayne? It’s over. You’re
safe. I don’t blame you if they read your mind. It’s not your
fault. It’s okay... Come on.”

Tarke leant
over her, trying to draw her out as he had done on the Crystal
Ship. A dread formed in the pit of his stomach, chilling it. He
thinned his shields and touched her mind, recoiling from the
howling emptiness within it, the shock making him shudder.
Desperation forced him to try again, a frantic disbelief that only
a second glimpse into the terrible void inside her head could
dispel. He gazed down at her peaceful face, brushing away strands
of flaxen hair that strayed across her cheek. Anguish filled his
heart. No vestige of her remained. She had been pushed over the
precipice, and the Envoy’s black void had swallowed her.

“No.” The
Shrike gathered her up and cradled her. “No, no, no…” He stroked
her hair, whispering in a choked voice, “They killed you, my
reyanne
. They forced you to run into the darkness, and now
you’re lost in the void. I never wanted you to sacrifice yourself
for me. I would rather have perished in your stead. Come back to
me, please. Find the light that will lead you home.” He blinked as
his eyes stung. “Rayne…”

Tarke called
her name again and again, even though he knew he could not awaken
her no matter how hard he tried. With each failed attempt to call
her back from the dark place she had fled into, his grief deepened.
When at last he put her down, his heart seemed frozen. He folded
her hands on her breast, rose and strode back to the bridge,
picking up the mask Scimarin had transferred across for him.

“Where are the
Atlantean ships?”

“They are
decelerating at a distance. It seems they no longer wish to come to
Darmon.”

He clipped on
the mask and donned his gloves. “I want the people who betrayed
her. Have her escort cruisers send a detail to find them, then
transfer them to one of my ships.” He glanced at the sleek ship in
orbit beside Shadowen. “Tell Scimarin to follow and set course to
rendezvous with the Atlanteans when they stop.”

Tarke sank onto
the pilot’s seat, and the stars whizzed past as the ship turned.
Scimarin vanished from view, and new constellations settled into
place, then Net energy enveloped them in its shell as the ship
accelerated.

The Atlantean
ships were seven light minutes from Darmon, still decelerating in
preparation for their retreat. Since Shadowen and Scimarin had not
built up as much speed, they were able to stop far more rapidly,
and were waiting when the Atlanteans dropped from their Net
hooks.

“Call them,”
Tarke ordered, and this time the space line screen slid from its
slot. Tallyn’s visage appeared on it, looking haggard, but
defiant.

“I’m still
trying to decide whether or not to kill you, Tallyn,” Tarke
said.

“With those
ships? What are they, emergency pods?”

“You’d be
surprised. Perhaps you’d like a demonstration?”

Tallyn became
brisk. “Look, Shrike, we never intended to harm her. We had no idea
she would be so badly affected by a simple probe. The telepath was
an expert, one of the best.”

“Well, he
wasn’t good enough. I want him. Either you give him to me, or I’ll
take him.”

Tallyn shook
his head. “He’s dead.”

“How?”

“She killed
him. I don’t know how.”

“The same way
she killed the Envoy,” Tarke said. “The same way she killed
herself.”

“She’s not
dead.”

“How would you
know?”

“She wasn’t
when they dropped the shields.” Tallyn’s eyes darted to someone off
the screen.

“She might as
well be. She’s still breathing, but can that be called living?”

“We’re all
unhappy about what happened.”

“Did you get
what you wanted?”

Tallyn shook
his head. “No.”

Tarke leant
forward. “I really should kill you. You don’t deserve to live. She
thought you were her friend and spoke highly of you. She told me
you saved her. You’re a traitor of the worst kind. You allowed
someone who trusted you to be harmed, and you were a part of
it.”

“I was
following orders,” Tallyn said. “If I’d known -”

“I warned
you.”

“You could have
been lying. It sounded pretty far-fetched.”

Tarke sat back,
lacing his fingers. “I said you had outsmarted yourself. You could
have had me. I would have given myself up rather than let her be
harmed, but you wouldn’t believe me. You could have saved her and
captured me. Instead, you’ve failed. She may not be dead, but
you’ve hurt her, and you’re going to pay for that.”

Tallyn’s mouth
twisted in an unpleasant smirk. “You can’t hurt us with those
little ships.”

“No?” Tarke
tilted his head. “You know nothing about my ships, and you’re in
for a surprise.”

Tallyn
gestured, and the space line went blank and slid into its slot. The
challenge had been issued and the battle lines drawn. The three
Atlantean cruisers vanished behind energy shells as they activated
their shields.

Tarke smiled.
“Tell Scimarin to choose one of the others. Vengeance is mine.”

“Right,”
Shadowen replied.

“Prepare energy
weapons.”

“Energy weapons
activated, preparing to deploy. Target, Atlantean battle cruiser
Vengeance, range: five thousand, four hundred and eighty-two
metres.”

Shadowen’s
energy shell brightened as the ship drew more power from the link,
building the necessary surplus to fuel his weapons. The Atlantean
ships did the same as they prepared to defend themselves. The
battle would be brief, a symbolic exchange more than anything, for
to destroy an Atlantean cruiser would take too long. Damage was
possible in a relatively short time, however, and Tarke would
settle for that.

“Target has
raised stress shields,” Shadowen said.

“Target the Net
link. Fire.”

A bolt of Net
energy shot from Shadowen’s bows and flashed across the gulf to
strike Vengeance just behind her forward antenna array, which also
housed the Net link. Her stress shields shredded most of the fire
and the shell absorbed some, but the bolt was so powerful that it
still struck her hull, smashed the antenna array and melted a
portion of hull plating. At the same moment, Scimarin engaged one
of the other cruisers, and the Atlanteans fired back.

Tarke did not
give them a chance to reply. Shadowen was underway even as he fired
another three energy bolts at the Atlantean battle cruiser.
Vengeance staggered under the barrage, her shots missing as they
strafed the space where Shadowen had been. Her energy shell
overloaded and shed a wave of fire into space, weakening the shell
and preventing her from using her energy weapons. A sizeable area
of her hull was blackened and stripped of all its delicate
equipment, and debris spread from the site.

Shadowen’s
final shot hit the Net link, robbing Vengeance of her ability to
draw power from the energy dimension. The cruiser was crippled, and
had sustained a small fortune in damage, but Tarke wished the toll
could have been higher. Yet short of starting a full-scale war,
this skirmish was all he could do without earning reprisals from
Atlan and its allies. Tallyn would take it as a personal insult,
but the Council would not sanction retaliation for such a minor
attack. The oath Tarke had sworn had been specific. It required
Rayne’s death to take effect. He could not ask his people to die in
their millions to avenge a girl who still lived.

As Shadowen
accelerated towards Darmon, leaving the Atlantean cruisers behind,
he went back to the cabin and sat beside Rayne again. If there was
a way to bring her out of this, he would find it, and if she died,
he would have his vengeance. He returned to the bridge when
Shadowen informed him of their arrival at Darmon. Seven more of his
ships had arrived in his absence, and the Yasmarian fleet had
retreated to a safe distance. Shadowen took up a position near the
Shrike’s fleet, and he transferred to the cruiser where the people
he had ordered detained were being held.

Two guards
followed the Shrike along the passage, and two more bowed as he
marched into a large, sparsely furnished room that was usually used
for ceremonial gatherings, crew inspections and conferences. The
cruiser’s commander saluted, his face set in grim, sorrowful
lines.

Tarke nodded to
the Mansurian, an Atlantean-Shirran cross. “Commander Vayrel. Bring
the prisoners in.”

“May I offer
our deepest sympathy, sir.”

Tarke inclined
his head and clasped his hands behind his back. Guards pushed two
dishevelled, scared-looking women and three men into the room and
made them stand in a row.

Tarke strolled
closer. “Who are they?”

Commander
Vayrel indicated the three Atlanteans. “These are the doctors who
helped with the probe.” He motioned to a tall, golden-eyed man who
held himself proudly. “Your wife’s brother, sir.”

Tarke stopped
in front of him. “Rawn.”

“I -”

The Shrike
raised a hand in a curt gesture, silencing him. “I find it strange
that you’re numbered amongst her betrayers.”

“I didn’t
betray her! My wife... did.” He glanced at a petite, doe-eyed
woman. “But she didn’t mean to harm her.”

“So you will
all claim, just as Tallyn did, and the Atlantean Council will. No
one will take responsibility for what’s happened. You’ll all shout
your innocence with your dying breaths.”

The prisoners
blanched, and the petite woman beside Rawn whimpered and clung to
his arm. Tarke faced her, and she stepped back. Rawn tried to
shield her.

The Shrike
ignored him, addressing her. “And if she was dead, I would execute
you if you were found guilty. Fortunately for you, she’s still
alive, but she’ll probably never know it. I want to punish someone
for her injury, but how can I? You wanted the reward for my
death.”

Tarke said to
Rawn, “You were just bait.” He looked at the Atlantean doctors.
“You were following orders, and the one who did the damage is
already dead.” He paced along the row. “Yet between you, you’ve
robbed an innocent girl of her life, trying to strike at me. You
were all motivated by greed or hatred, and your plans have failed
because she chose to die for me. Have any of you anything to
say?”

The oldest
doctor said, “We would never have done it, had we known.”

Tarke turned at
the end of the row and walked back. “Ah. Hindsight is always so
clear, isn’t it?”

“I’d like to
see my sister,” Rawn said.

“No.”

“What will you
do with her?”

“That’s a good
question. I don’t know. Take her home. Care for her, I suppose.
What else can I do? Try to cure her, of course, but that’s a
foolish hope, I would think.”

The Shrike
stopped in front of Rawn’s wife again. “But you, more than any
other, are responsible for what happened. Yet you won’t accept the
blame, will you? No. You never intended to harm her. No one did.
But with all these good intentions, she’s still in a coma.” He
turned away. “Damn you all.”

“You’re the
reason it happened,” Rawn said. “They were trying to capture you.
You could have saved her.”

The Shrike
swung back. “Could I?” His voice became dangerously soft. “By
offering to give myself up, yes. I did that. By warning them of the
danger, yes, I did that too. How else?”

“By not showing
her your face. By leaving her alone!”

“In a stinking
cesspool of a pleasure club, full of damned drugs. I tried to leave
her alone. I did refuse to show her my face, and she would have
died if I hadn’t taken her from that life. I gave her what she
wanted. I gave her a life. I tried to protect her, and I failed.
Does that make me guilty?