The auctioneer paused, evidently waiting for those who had not quite made up their mind yet. Distant mutters mingled with the swish of a door closing and footsteps that approached her, and Rayne opened her eyes. A tall, black-clad figure with a dark grey coat and an intricate mask sauntered to the front of the audience. People stepped from his path, but she sensed it was not because of the two men in black and silver uniforms who followed him. A hawk-like silver emblem glinted on his chest as he stopped before the stage to gaze up at her. The auctioneer stared at him, and the stranger nodded.
"Sold! For one hundred thousand regals!" The auctioneer banged his gavel. "To the Shrike!"
The Shrike raised a gloved hand, and his men climbed onto the stage to relieve the Draycon guards of their captive.
Chapter Ten
The men pulled Rayne along, supporting her when her legs buckled, their shoes tapping on a hard floor. Strange sensations penetrated her dazed mind. A smell of burning oil, a pungent odour she could not identify, and the passing of a nearby hum. Ephemeral bright lights glowed through her eyelids, but she could not open them. A door hissed open, and she was pushed onto a soft chair, which, she discovered when she slipped sideways, was a couch. Alarms jangled in her numb brain, but she could do nothing about it, for her limbs refused to obey her. Her worries could not keep her awake, nor could she summon the willpower to use her healing to oust the drug that held her in its thrall, and sleep washed her away on a black tide.
Rayne woke with a start, and sat up to find everything back in focus. Pale walls surrounded her, a thick maroon carpet covered the floor, and some rather ugly paintings hung on the walls. For a moment she thought she was back on Earth, for the room lacked the Atlantean technology and propensity for flora. The faint but unmistakeable smell of rotten eggs reminded her of where she was, and memories of her recent ordeal rushed back. Thoughts of escape hammered at her brain, and she rose to examine her prison.
When she discovered that the door would not open and the room lacked any other exit, she went back to the couch and sat down. Several minutes later, a tall, black-clad man entered and paused, as if to gauge her reaction, but she merely stared at him. A grey coat relieved his sable garb, which included gloves with silver emblems on the back and a strangely designed mask that covered his head and neck. His well-cut suit clung to a whipcord figure with broad shoulders and narrow hips. The suit's seams were ridged in the Atlantean manner, concealing its fastenings. Nothing hinted at his race other than his form, which appeared to be human, Atlantean, or one of many other races that shared the humanoid physique.
Rayne's fears multiplied as a dozen unsavoury prospects invaded her still-raw mind. Tension curdled her stomach, and a sour taste crept into her mouth. The Draycon woman's words shouted from her memory, drawing dark images in her flinching mind. The man broke his immobile stance to clasp his hands behind his back, and his action pushed back his coat to reveal a weapon clipped to his belt. She wondered if this was deliberate.
Rayne licked her lips. "Who are you?" It came out as a croak, and she swallowed to try to alleviate her dry throat. Her fuzzy recollection of the auction supplied the name the auctioneer had given him: the Shrike. It sounded ominous.
The Shrike picked up a suit of clothes from a table by the door and threw them onto the couch beside her, then left. Realising that she still wore the scanty garment in which the Draycons had dressed her, she changed into the black one-piece suit with a silver hawk emblem on the right side of the chest. After throwing the dress into a corner, she sat down again and tried to figure out what she should do now. Perhaps her new captor would listen to reason and return her to Atlan if she offered him a reward.
Whether or not the council paid it was irrelevant, as long as she got back to Atlan. He unnerved her, and, despite her hopes, she wondered if he would be susceptible to bribes or blackmail. His silence, and the Draycon woman's promise that her new owner would kill her, increased her anxiety. The Draycon woman, however, had no way of knowing who would buy her, and a chance existed that this man was not the sort the woman had hoped for. Rayne's stomach rumbled and she cursed it. Now was not the time to think of food.
Rayne jumped when the door opened to admit her captor and a black-uniformed man carrying a tray, which he set down on the table before leaving. She watched the Shrike, wondering if he was going to speak this time.
"Eat something," he said in fluent, slightly accented Atlantean, his voice deep and attractive. "You must be hungry."
She glanced at the steaming food, which looked like nutri-paste, and shook her head.
He sat in the chair opposite. "What are you afraid of?"
"You." She struggled to keep her voice from quivering. He radiated strength and confidence as if it oozed from his pores.
"Why?"
"I don't know you, but the woman who sold me said you would kill me."
"Really? Drevina doesn't know me that well, I assure you. And I'm hardly likely to do that when I just paid a hundred thousand regals for you. Of course, you were too drugged to know anything."
Not quite, she mused. "So now I'm a slave?" She wished he would take off the mask, it bothered her.
"Legally, yes."
"I see." She strived to remain calm. It sounded like someone else spoke.
"Do you?"
"Probably not, but I expect I'm going to find out. So, you're not a violent pervert who enjoys killing slaves?"
"I flatter myself that I'm not a pervert, and I'm not going to kill you."
"Then what do you intend to do with me?"
"You'll find out soon. How were you captured?" His husky voice sent shivers down her spine.
"The Draycons kidnapped me on Atlan. They must have used gas. I woke up on their ship. They might have killed my brother. I don't know what happened to him."
"So, the Atlanteans took you from your home world before it died. I wondered what happened to you."
She frowned. "How do you know my world is dead? You don’t know where I’m from."
"I do. We’ve met before, in a manner of speaking, although you might not remember such a brief encounter."
Rayne searched her reeling mind for an explanation, finding a dim memory of a black-clad man in a blind alley, blue laser humming over her as she lay huddled on a dirty road. "You were there, on Earth. You shot the store guards."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "You needed help. I was there. Why not?"
"Will you help me again? Take me back to Atlan? The council will reimburse you."
The Shrike paused, and she hoped that he was considering her request. His rescue on Earth did not mean he was a good person, she reflected. If he was a slaver, he might have been planning to capture her then, but the Atlanteans had chased him away. He stood up, and she leapt to her feet, backing away.
His head turned to follow her retreat. "There's no need to fear me. I'm not going to hurt you."
Rayne wanted to believe him, but her instincts clamoured for caution. She could sense neither friendliness nor hostility from him. He appeared to have no emotions at all. He seemed taller than Rawn, but perhaps it was the coat and mask.
"How can I trust a man who hides his face?"
"Is that what's worrying you?"
"Partly." She moved closer to the wall and leant against it, feigning confidence.
"I'm afraid I can't take it off."
"Then I won't trust you."
The Shrike shook his head, the mask's flat planes gleaming. Most of it was dull, but shiny, tinted plasglass covered his eyes, reflecting the light.
"Suit yourself." He turned and left.
Rayne closed her eyes and slumped, then returned to the couch and ate the meat-flavoured nutri-paste. Considering her situation again, she found no good in it. Her only hope was the fact that he had not refused to return her to Atlan, and perhaps considered it. Common sense howled against this naive fantasy, reminding her that a slaver who had just paid a small fortune for he
r would not be keen on returning her to Atlan for the sake of getting his money back. She should have offered him a reward to sweeten the deal. Then again, it would be dangerous for him to go near Atlan, since they imprisoned slavers. So she would have to guarantee his safety, too, which she was not sure she could do. There was no reason for him to trust her any more than she trusted him, either. As her thoughts whirled in useless circles, her eyes grew leaden as her full stomach compounded her fatigue, and the room was so quiet that she fell asleep.
Rayne woke to find her captor standing over her, and leapt off the couch like a startled cat. Lacking feline reactions, she tripped over her feet and landed with a thud on her rump. She grimaced, then tried to scramble away in alarm when he stepped towards her. He gripped her wrist before she could evade him and hauled her to her feet, and as soon as she was upright she tried to pry his fingers loose. After a futile struggle with his iron grip, she became aware that he was merely watching her efforts, and glared up at the horrible mask.
"Are you going to just stand there and hold my arm all day?"
She sensed his reluctant smile, and he said, "You should be more careful. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
"Well your wishes aren't exactly high on my list of priorities, you know."
"You're very brave all of a sudden."
"This isn't bravery, it's called desperation. Something you wouldn't know anything about."
"I understand better than you know," he replied.
"I'll bet you get your kicks from terrorising helpless slaves, but I won't give you the satisfaction again." She drew a shaking breath. "Look, if you take me to Atlan, I'll see to it that you're rewarded as well as reimbursed."
"Really. You must be an important person, then."
"I have some important friends. The council will pay for my return."
He shook his head. "As much as I would like to oblige, I'm afraid it's out of the question. You see, there's a price on my head on Atlantean worlds. A very large one. If they catch me, they'll kill me, so I'm not going anywhere near Atlan."
"Well, just let me go then. I'll call my friends, and they'll come and get me. I'll make sure you still get the reward."
"The Atlanteans, come here?" He gave a soft, mirthless bark of laughter. "That would be risky. Besides, you have no money, and, unlike on Atlan, a space line costs money here."
"Oh. Perhaps you could…"
"Lend you some?" He chuckled again. "Why don't I just take you to a law-abiding world, then you can call on a free space line?"
She glared at him. "You're not going to help me, are you?"
"No. I have plans for you. I didn't buy you just to give you back to your Atlantean masters."
"Damn you!" She tried to wrench free, but only succeeded in jerking herself closer to him, something that, oddly, seemed to discomfit him, for he stepped back. For a moment she was close enough to sense his warmth and strange, powerful charisma. Startled, she stepped back, then realised that his laser was within reach, grabbed it and tried to yank it out. It seemed to be stuck, and his grip on her wrist tightened painfully as he pushed her away, releasing her.
"That was a really stupid thing to do," he said.
"If you think I'm not going to fight, or try to escape, you've got another think coming."
He gestured to her wrist. "Did I hurt you?"
She looked at it, surprised by his concern. There was a red mark around it, but no real damage. “No, it's fine."
"Good." He paused. “For future reference, in case you’re tempted to try that again, my weapon is keyed to my DNA, so you can’t use it, or even release it from the holster.” His tone became brisk. "We're going to my ship now. We'll be more comfortable there. Stand next to me, so I can activate the transfer Net."
Rayne longed to refuse, but there was no escaping, and if she did he would only force her to do as he wished, a humiliation she chose to forego. The golden light of an energy shell engulfed them, and dispersed to reveal a room decorated in pale blue and cream. A thick carpet of the grey moss covered the floor, and comfortable chairs formed a half circle around a low glass table. Two slanted windows gave a view of Gergonia's dull yellow globe and the sullen red planet beyond it.
The Shrike went over to a console and placed his hand on the sensor pad. The crystals lighted and sparkled at his touch. Although no sensation was evident, she sensed that a Net link had been forged, and the ship headed into the unknown. A glance at the windows showed a golden haze crawling over them, obscuring the view and confirming her suspicions.
"Where are we going?"
"To my base."
"Where's that?"
He shook his head, studying the holographic readouts that scrolled up from the console.
"Won't you at least tell me your name?"
"Most people call me ‘the Shrike’." He wandered over to a chair and sank into it, indicating that she should take the couch opposite, and she perched on the edge of it. She longed to point out that this was not the answer she had been looking for. It sounded more like a title.
"So, who's your benefactor on Atlan?" he enquired.
"Commander Tallyn."
"Ah, Tallyn." He nodded. "Now there's a man with a devious mind."
"He's a good man."
"Oh yes, he is, and you seem to like him."
She looked away, embarrassed. "He was good to me and my brother. He saved us."
"Why?"
She shied away from telling him the reason for her rescue, which was also the reason for her kidnapping. He might be another enemy of Atlan, and decide to kill her if he knew who she was.
"It has nothing to do with you."
"Don't be difficult."
"I don't have to tell you anything. If you want to force it from me, then put a slave collar on me."
"I'm not going to collar you."
She stared at him, puzzled. "Why did you buy me?"
He shrugged. "I have my reasons."
Rayne glanced around, a few wild and improbable plans presenting themselves for her common sense to dismiss. If she could escape from the room, she might be able to evade pursuit long enough to locate the emergency life pods. Once on board one, she could escape, deactivate the pod's beacon until the Shrike's ship was out of range, then reactivate it and wait for rescue. Her roving eyes lighted upon the open door, which seemed to beckon to her, inviting her to use it and find the freedom she craved. Glancing at the Shrike, she found him facing her, his hands clasped before him. He seemed to be watching her, but it was difficult to tell. As she looked at the door again, his deep chuckle made her tense.
"That's the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard. Even if you managed to escape this room, which you won't, do you really think you'll be able to launch a life pod by yourself, and without any of my crew noticing?" He chuckled again, and her humiliation grew.
"You shouldn't read other peoples' minds," she retorted, wishing she could think of a more scathing rebuttal.
"Probably not, but yours is most entertaining."
Rayne tried to imagine what he might look like, conjuring an image of a deformed, malevolent alien much like the mutants she had seen on Earth.
"How unpleasant," he said. "I can assure you, I don't look anything like that."
"To me you do."
He sighed. "Will you tell me your name?"
After a moment's hesitation she did, aware that he might try to learn it telepathically if she refused, and discover her secret. She tried to block his mental intrusion with the method Tallyn had taught her, aware that she pitted slight and unpractised skills against a vastly experienced intellect.
The Shrike stood up, taking her by surprise. "I must go and see to the running of my ship. I'll see you later."
Rayne paced the cabin, racking her brains for a way out of her predicament. The door was locked, and no other avenues of escape offered themselves. Getting off a space ship in flight had to be almost impossible, she had never heard of it being tried. Once they reached thei
r destination, her chances would be even slimmer, and she did not even know where they were going. Appealing to the masked marvel seemed hopeless, so she had to find her own way home. After an hour or so of fruitless pondering, she sat down, deciding that she would have to wait for her situation to change.
The door opened as she was dozing off, and she jerked awake, cursing the fact that she always seemed to be falling asleep whenever she was left alone for a while. The Shrike stood in the doorway, and gestured for her to precede him into the corridor. Grey moss carpeted it, and the smooth white walls seemed to have been moulded from a single sheet of plastic, or whatever they were made from. Harsh white lights overhead cast stark shadows, and the only colours seemed to be grey and white. The cold corridor led to a smooth, featureless room, rather like a shuttle bay, where two guards waited. At the Shrike's signal, they stepped forward and gripped her arms. Before she could protest, the shimmering gold of an energy shell engulfed her.
When it dispersed, she stood on a planet's surface. The increased gravity made her knees buckle, and the guards held her up. It must have been half again as much as Earth or Atlan, whose slightly stronger gravity she had grown accustomed to over the last four years. She stood at the edge of a vast transparent dome, and, beyond it, a desert strewn with rocks of varying shapes and sizes stretched away as far as the eye could see. It reminded her of Mars. A wind blew dust against the clear barrier with a soft hiss, and she sensed the aching cold beyond it.
Scudding clouds moved across the grim planet's dull grey sky, and the sun was a dim glow. She turned to look at the dome's interior, which a sprawling city filled. The air was calm and warm, and stunted trees bordered the road that led into the metropolis. The guards guided her between white buildings, some festooned with greenery. Skyways looped overhead and gravcars hummed past. The plasglass dome created a tropical greenhouse where the desert soil yielded all manner of vegetation. Further off, between the buildings, water sprinklers irrigated tracts of agricultural land, and the dome gave the sky a pearly glow.
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