Slave Empire - Prophecy (5 page)

Rayne reached
the outer city at midday, and limped through the dingy,
tumbled-down buildings. Rats scampered, squeaking, from piles of
refuse, and she hurried past an occasional corpse, mutilated,
diseased or skeletal. Many vile stenches abused her nose, varying
only in their strength or foulness. Skinny, hollow-eyed people
dodged into ruins at her approach, their eyes gleaming from the
shadows as she passed. Rayne paused in an empty building to regain
her strength and rest her throbbing legs, the pain making her
queasy.

Keeping a
sharp look out, she only rested for a few minutes. As she rose to
leave, however, she froze at the faint sound of shuffling feet, and
frowned. There were several of them, but the tread was too heavy
for a group of vagrants. Raising her head, she sniffed the wind,
all her senses straining. A vile stench wafted to her, which had
not been there moments before. Terror turned her blood to ice, and
she bolted from the building like a hare from its burrow, only to
stop just outside the door.

Twenty mutants
formed a semi-circle around the door she had just exited, shuffling
closer. Rayne glanced back as another mutant filled the doorway.
They stood seven foot and over, their long arms reaching to their
knees. Brown, matted hair covered some, and slack lips revealed
long yellow teeth. Others looked more human, but grossly deformed,
and wore only a few dirty rags. One had elephant-like ears and
hands that looked more like clubs.

Another had a
single eye and nostril, while the mutant beside him had a dog-like
muzzle full of sharp teeth. Some had almost normal faces, but
half-animal bodies with claws, spines or scales. Most of them had
cancerous growths of various sizes, suppurating ulcers that oozed
stinking pus. Their stench made her bile rise, souring the lump of
terror lodged in her throat. Dirt matted their hair and caked their
mottled skins with a layer of greasy filth spotted with patches of
dried gore and pus. A few even had mould growing on them.

They were
genetic mutants, those unfortunates who had been children or just
conceived when the ozone layer broke down and the sun's radiation
had wreaked havoc on their development. Most had died. These were
the angry, suffering survivors, who killed for food and fun, their
minds as twisted as their bodies. Their size and well-fed
appearance stemmed from their cannibalistic lifestyle, and she was
to be the latest delicacy on their menu.

Rayne looked
around for a weapon. Rawn had always protected her, and weapons of
any sort were hard to come by, due to the demand for them.
Desperate, she tugged at a steel reinforcing rod protruding from
some rubble, but it was firmly lodged and all she did was scrape
her raw palms on its rusty surface. The approaching mutants stared
at her with dull eyes and licked their lips in anticipation.

Picking up a
brick, she hurled it at one, but it bounced off the creature's
forehead with no noticeable effect. Panic squeezed her heart in an
icy grip as she glanced around for a way out, but they were
shoulder to shoulder, closing the circle. Her stomach threatened to
hurl its meagre, acidic contents up her throat. Rancid breath,
mixed with unwashed hairy bodies, urine and faeces, plus the
decaying blood of past victims that clung to their fur, created a
stench unrivalled in singular vileness.

Sobbing with
hysterical panic, Rayne hurled brick after brick at the encroaching
mutants, following each with a stream of useless abuse. Her aim was
good, but the bricks bounced off the mutants' thick skulls without
making them blink. Some leered and growled, others quickened their
steps and raised their arms.

A low-pitched
hum filled the air. A pillar of blue fire impaled the mutant in
front of her, which exploded. Blood and guts splattered its
companions, making them recoil. The blue fire burnt a molten spot
in the ground before it cut off, then impaled another mutant. The
powerful hum made her teeth ache, and intense heat scorched her
skin as mutant after mutant died, impaled by the beam of light. She
gasped and crouched down, covering her face as an orgy of blue heat
destroyed the mutants. Some died before they could make a sound,
and none had time to even turn away.

When the last
mutant was vaporised, the blue fire vanished, leaving scorched,
smoking spots that glowed. Shredded gore coated the rubble, and
chunks of cooked meat clung to the crumbling wall behind her. Rayne
lowered her hands and glanced around, poised to flee but afraid to
move in case she attracted the attention of whoever had killed the
mutants. She was fairly sure it had been a laser beam, invisible
against the sky. Her mind raced as she struggled to make sense of
it.

An alien ship
had just tried to kill her, now some unknown and unseen benefactor
had saved her, or were they just toying with her? Perhaps they
enjoyed her fear, and now waited for her to flee before killing
her, too. She glared at the sky, hating their power and
elusiveness, determined not to give them the satisfaction of
watching her run about in terror. Her bravado drained away, and she
stumbled from the scorched circle to hobble down the street as fast
as she could, intent only on getting away.

The imperative
and rather rude telepathic intrusion of Marcon, his first officer,
jerked Tallyn from a deep slumber. Such tactics were only ever used
in an emergency, so he quelled his initial annoyed reaction and
sent back a query. Marcon's response, that a group of mutants were
attacking the human girl, brought Tallyn wide awake. He jack-knifed
out of his bunk and pulled on the one-piece stretch overall that
was slung over a nearby chair.

His quarters
were only a few strides away from the bridge, and within seconds he
watched the confrontation on main screen. He admired her pluck as
she hurled bricks and abuse at the monsters, but when it was quite
obvious she could not escape, he gave the order to destroy the
mutants. The ship's neural net, under the guidance of a net-linked
officer, locked onto the targets and calculated distance and
trajectory before firing the lasers with deadly accuracy.

The girl
glanced around and up, but the ship was in orbit, hidden by the
grey clouds that cloaked her world. The spy-cam that brought her
image to him also marked her position, enabling the ship's infrared
scanners to track her movements. The spy-cam was programmed to keep
her image in its lens. She hobbled down the street, the spy-cam
following like a faithful dog. Her limp worried him, and the brown
stains on her trousers indicated injuries that he had only noticed
when she had set out on her journey this morning. The possibility
of infection added to his concern, making him toy with the idea of
picking her up.

Tallyn could
not explain why he had not done so yet, but something warned him
not to, in spite of her injury. The same instinct told him she was
the golden girl child in the prophecy. Over the years, he had
learnt to trust his instincts, and this was probably the most
significant mission he would ever perform. As the ship's commander,
he had no need to explain his actions, or lack of them, to the
crew, although Marcon had looked at him oddly.

The ship held
orbit now above the city where the girl dwelt, and she was
obviously the target. The crew probably wondered why he did not
order her transferred up, but Atlantean crews rarely questioned
their commanders' orders. Nor did he find any need to explain it;
he would wait until the time was right.

Rayne entered
the Inner City late in the afternoon. She slipped into the shadows
of the towering, shiny skyscrapers and dodged from building to
building. Her chances of finding Rawn were slim to none, but she
had to try. The pain in her legs sapped her, hunger gnawed at her,
and she stopped at taps to drink. The water eased her stomach ache,
but added nothing to her dwindling strength. Twice, she spotted
police patrols and hid in dark doorways until they passed.

At dusk, she
rested in a ruined office building, on a battered sofa that had
somehow survived the destructive effects of the pollution that
ravaged the planet. She stared out of a grimy window at the dismal
street, raising her gaze once more to the grey clouds that no
longer offered any protection against the sun's radiation. The cuts
in greenhouse gas output had been too little and too late.

The vast
amount of gas already released wrought irreparable damage on the
ozone layer as it rose into the upper atmosphere. Huge cattle farms
produced massive amounts of methane, and the destruction of the
world's forests reduced oxygen production just as drastically.

The ozone
layer was almost gone now, making exposure to the sun hazardous,
for even a few hours could cause skin cancer. The acid rain ate
into everything. It soaked into the ground and killed the trees and
few struggling weeds that were left. Once filtered by the soil, it
was safe to drink. Sometimes thick yellow smog would envelope
everything, burn eyes and skin and leave behind a layer of black
soot.

The
once-beautiful blue oceans were mere legend now. Brown seas foamed
on filthy beaches like a massive sewer. No one lived beside it
anymore, for the stench of rot and noxious bacterial secretions
were strong enough to make people sick. A thick blanket of green
algae covered the sluggish waves. Adapted to the saline conditions,
it thrived on the toxic soup of chemicals and pollutants that
filled it. The sea had turned into the very thing humans had used
it for, a cesspit.

Rayne sighed
and rose, wincing. The prospect of stumbling through the darkening
city did not appeal to her, but necessity drove her. If she did not
find Rawn, she was not sure she would survive, since she would have
great difficulty running with her injuries and she had to find food
before she became too weak.

Chapter Three

Rawn wandered
along a deserted street, glancing into gloomy corners, his hand
never far from his weapon. Since his encounter with the slavers, he
had increased his vigilance. He no longer allowed his constant
worry about Rayne's welfare to distract him, although it nibbled at
his mind like a rat gnawing in the ceiling. Hunger gnawed at him
too. He had not eaten since this morning, when his food had run
out. He stopped for water at a tap in a building, then walked on
until dark, when he found a safe place and built a fire.

As the night
chill settled through the air, he went to a nearby drapery and
searched amongst the rubbish and dust for blankets and curtains.
Returning to his fire, he settled down for the night.

Rayne built a
fire, but her leather jacket could not cope with the bitter cold.
Although she huddled over it, her back remained cold while her
front cooked. Her supply of combustible material dwindled rapidly,
for cardboard burnt quickly and wood was in short supply. Curling
into a ball, she strived to conserve her warmth as the fire died.
Her stomach rumbled, and she longed for her brother's comforting
warmth. She clenched her teeth to stop them chattering, but her
shivers grew more violent as the night air cooled. Nevertheless,
she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Every little
noise woke her from her uneasy doze, mostly rats scuttling in the
garbage, and she knew she would have a restless night.

Tallyn stood
in the gloom at the back of the ship's bridge and watched the girl
with growing concern. The officer who monitored the surface
conditions informed him that the temperature approached freezing
point, since the thick clouds dispersed at dusk to release the heat
trapped under them. This planet's peculiar weather grew stranger
every day, and the changing atmospheric conditions led to some
pretty weird aberrations, such as hail storms on a warm day or heat
waves on a cold one.

The girl
suffered from the cold, and he considered the various ways in which
he might help her. He could transfer a blanket down to her, but,
with her suspicious nature, she would probably not use it. The same
would apply to a heating unit, so the only real option was to bring
her aboard. As yet, he had not informed anyone that she was their
target, but the surveillance and concern for her welfare should
have made that obvious by now. He glanced at Marcon, who stood
nearby, an ear cocked for orders.

"Deploy the
transfer Net. Put her into the quarantine section under deep sleep
inducement."

Marcon nodded
and took his station to send orders to the various crew members who
would be required to perform their particular function. Crystals
twinkled in the gloom as the locator beam was sent out. Using the
spy-cam as a guide, the particle beam locked onto its living cargo
and sent back her precise location. The Net deployed next,
surrounding the girl in a nimbus of golden light as it coalesced
into a shell of pure energy.

The transfer
Net's technology had always fascinated Tallyn, although its use was
limited by the amount of power it devoured when the ship was not
linked to the energy dimension, like now. This single transfer
would use enough power to run the star ship for a month. The
transfer Net worked in a similar fashion to the way in which the
ship moved through space, but its ability to work at a distance
complicated it. The ovoid of energy, once formed into a tangible
shell, changed the frequency of its wave form, and by doing so,
side slipped through time and space.

Essentially,
the shell transferred itself into a dimension of pure energy, where
distance, matter and time did not exist. Without these laws, all
that remained was to force the energy shell to re-emerge at a
predetermined point, in this case, the ship's hospital. To do this,
the programmed instructions of the initial beam forced the shell to
change its wave form again, whereupon the energy dimension ejected
it, and it emerged at the time and place contained in its original
instructions. Within the energy shell, the cargo, even when awake,
was unaware of anything other than the golden glow, followed by a
change of venue.