Prophecy se-1

by T C Southwell

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" the Shrike murmured.

  Rayne nodded, unable to speak. The brilliant rays turned the desert into a blazing golden platter; a gilded anvil that belied the cold that seeped through the dome.

  "Even the most hostile environment has its beauty. I'm sure you've never seen such a glorious sunrise," he commented.

  "No, I haven't."

  "It's hard to imagine people living out there, isn't it?"

  "Do they?"

  "Yes. A few hundred lost, scarred souls, too hostile to live in a normal environment anymore."

  Rayne went over to the low wall and leant on it. She wondered what kind of people would live in the golden desert with its swirling dust.

  She glanced at the Shrike. "How do those people live out there?"

  The Shrike clasped his hands behind his back. "I give them food and water."

  "Why don't they live here, with the others?"

  "They can't." He turned his head towards her, and apparently noticed her puzzled look. "You would never understand. You're an innocent in a cruel universe. You have no idea what goes on."

  "So tell me."

  "No. You'll find out, but not from me."

  Rayne swung away, angered by his refusal to explain even this. He watched the sunrise until the colours faded, then returned to the gravcar. She followed, sitting beside him with a shiver. He seemed unaware of her discomfort, although he ensured that no contact was made. He touched the controls, and the car rose.

  The Shrike took her on a tour of the city, pointing out the agriculture and the rig that pumped water from far beneath the planet's crust. Workers' houses lined the roads in residential suburbs, each surrounded by a little patch of flowering greenery. Rayne wondered why he spent so much time with a slave, but knew she would not get an answer. Thoughts of escape still plagued her, but even if she could get out of the dome, she would perish in the desert. The more she pondered the problem, the larger it grew, and even getting out of the dome was almost impossible. There was only one well-guarded airlock.

  At noon, they returned to the apartment, where the Shrike ordered lunch from the dewy-eyed slave girl who cleaned it. She appeared to be Atlantean, a lower cast with almost monotone brown hair and dark green eyes, her skin a dusky gold and her figure willowy. She smiled at him with such blatant flirtation that Rayne was embarrassed for the girl's sake, but when the slave glanced at Rayne her eyes turned into chips of ice.

  Rayne waited for her to leave before turning to her captor. "Your slave seems to be rather hostile. Does she think I'm going to replace her or something? Is she afraid of being sold?"

  "Slave? Oh, I see. No, nothing like that. She might be jealous. A lot of them are somewhat possessive."

  "Jealous? Of you?" She laughed. "How can they be jealous of a man who hides behind a mask? A man who is their master?"

  He stalked over to the bar and poured a drink. "I don't know."

  Rayne was delighted to have found something that made him uncomfortable, eager for a way to avenge her humiliation at his hands. "So you think your female slaves are in love with you? You must have an enormous ego." She giggled, but her amusement vanished when he strode over to her, making her step back in surprise and trepidation.

  "You would never understand," he said. "You may be innocent – perhaps too innocent – but you're also ignorant."

  The Shrike thrust a glass at her, and she took it with trembling hands, unable to stem her reaction to his angry proximity. Her heart slowed as he moved away and sat on the sofa, and she took several deep breaths to calm herself. A gulp of the liquid in her glass made her cough, surprised by its alcohol content. He watched her as he lifted his glass to the region of his mouth.

  Rayne stared, fascinated, as a hinged portion of the mask allowed the glass to touch hidden lips. After a pause, she sat opposite him, uncertain of what to say. His sudden anger had sent her hard-won confidence scuttling into a dark corner of her mind, leaving her timid and unsure. An uncomfortable silence ensued, which the re-entry of the serving girl with lunch broke. The Shrike watched her, and must have noticed the icy glance she shot Rayne.

  After the maid left, he poured the wine and passed Rayne a plate of roast pseudo-fowl and steamed vegetables, leaving her to stew in her curiosity. He slid aside a portion of the mask to eat, but the darkness within was too deep for her to glimpse anything. About halfway through the meal, he asked about her life on Earth, and appeared to be interested in her stories. After several tales, she decided to see if he would respond in kind.

  "Why did you rescue me from the store guards, that day on Earth, and why didn't you capture me then?"

  "I wasn't there looking for slaves or booty. I was just curious, and stopped over for a few hours, no more. I pitied your people and their fate, but I didn't want to interfere. I admit, I was tempted to take you away from that terrible place, but I wasn't sure how you'd react. Some people prefer to die with their world. Saving an intelligent being isn't the same as rescuing a starving Versar kitten. That awful place might have unhinged you, or the shock of being taken from your world might have driven you mad.

  "I didn't want to be responsible for that, and my ship wasn't equipped for acclimatising or decontaminating aliens. The environment you lived in was pretty hostile. It gave me a nasty rash, even though I was only in it for a few minutes. I did you a small favour, which I hoped would help you, but I couldn't do more than that. Besides, the place was getting crowded, and the Atlantean ship was coming dangerously close to detecting mine."

  "You were lucky they didn't see you. They had me under surveillance," she commented.

  "If they'd been watching, they would have done something about it if they wanted to collect you. I watched the chase for several minutes before I intervened. I hoped you'd escape on your own."

  She smiled. "When you appeared in front of me, I thought you were an autocrat."

  "Tell me about them."

  Rayne obliged while she ate her lunch, whose flavour was far superior even to the finest pseudo-meat she had consumed on Atlan. The Shrike appeared to be interested, made a few comments and asked questions. The wish to see his face redoubled as she talked, for she could only guess at his mood, other than polite interest. She wanted to ask him again to remove it, but sensed that he would not.

  As soon as the flirtatious slave girl cleared away their empty plates, he left without explanation, only saying that he would see her later. She seethed inwardly at the unwelcome reminder that she was only a slave and unworthy of any kind of excuse, to be left alone when he felt like it, with no concern for her feelings. Her anger set her once more upon her endeavour to escape, and she set to picking the door lock with a thin-bladed knife she had purloined from the lunch table. She pried open the panel beside the door, but the mass of crystals and wires that resided within it confounded her. She prodded it with the knife, hoping to hit the right short circuit, but only succeeded in giving herself a nasty shock.

  Rayne was nursing her tingling hand and glaring at the ruined panel when the Shrike returned. He noticed the damaged panel and shook his head.

  "So, you've been busy again. Did you hurt yourself?"

  She scowled at him. "I'll live. Do you think I'm just going to sit here and do nothing?"

  "You won't have to do that much longer."

  Her blood turned cold. "You're going to collar me."

  "No. How many times do I have to tell you?"

  "Slaves usually get collared, don't they?"

  "Usually."

  "So why should I expect anything different?"

  He made a sound of disgust and turned away, sinking into a chair. "No reason, I suppose. Anyway, you're going to get your wish. I'm going to sell you. The sales been set up. It will take place within the next few hours."

  A wave of intense dismay and terror swamped her, and she sat opposite as her legs shook. For some insane reason, perhaps because he had been so evasive before, she had not expected this. She fought a strong urge to
beg him not to, her emotions conflicted. Her sale offered a slight hope of rescue, unless her next owner turned out to be the killer Drevina had hoped for. At least the Shrike did not seem to be such a person, yet she had asked to be sold. Now that it was about to happen, the prospect terrified her. He studied her stunned expression.

  "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

  "No! I want to go back to Atlan."

  He nodded. "Of course, but that's not an option. You'll be quite safe, I assure you."

  "How would you know? Once I'm sold, anything might happen to me."

  "You wanted me to sell you."

  "I've changed my mind. I'd rather stay with you. At least you're not a psychopathic killer, or so you say."

  "I might have lied," he pointed out. "You also know that the Atlanteans have a better chance of finding you if I keep you, don't you?" She shrugged, and he continued, "Which is exactly why I have to sell you. I don't need the aggravation. You'll be safe, I promise. As soon as you're sold, I'll contact Tallyn and tell him who's got you, then he can rescue you."

  Her brows rose, a stab of bitterness spoiling her joy. "That would be generous of you, if you weren't so obviously killing two birds with one stone. You make a profit and destroy a rival at the same time. A neat plan."

  "What makes you think it's a rival and not a customer? How do you know I'm not just doing this to throw Tallyn off my trail? Or maybe even to help you, as I did on Earth?"

  She hesitated. "If you only want to help me, why don't you just let me go?"

  "I must admit, I do want my money back. But passing the information to Tallyn is to help you."

  "And to get him off your trail."

  He shrugged. "That too. But my reasons are irrelevant. The end result will be the same. You'll be returned to Atlan."

  "Unless you're lying, or your rival decides to kill me before Tallyn can save me."

  "Are all humans so pessimistic and suspicious?"

  "I have my reasons," she said.

  "Yes, I suppose you do. I debated the wisdom of telling you anything. Perhaps I shouldn't have. The damage is done, I suppose."

  "You're a cold bastard, aren't you? You don't care what happens to me. I hope Tallyn does find you. I hope he kills you. In fact, I'll do all I can to help him."

  The Shrike tilted his head, as if considering her, but she sensed no hint of his mood. She regretted her words, and wished she could call them back. Apart from the fact that she did not want him to be killed, for reasons she did not care to contemplate, her threat also gave him every reason to ensure that she could not help Tallyn. Not that she could do much, other than describe the world on which he had his base, but arid planets around yellow dwarf suns were common.

  For some reason, his decision to sell her was hurtful, yet she did not understand why. Her confusion brought a wave of homesickness and self-pity, mixed with an unhealthy dose of shame at her worthlessness. A logical voice demanded to know why she would imagine a man like the Shrike, an alien, an outlaw and a slaver, would care about someone like her, but it did not salve her emotional reaction.

  Two tears escaped down her cheeks, and she scrubbed them away, then glanced up when the Shrike rose and headed for the door. He paused there as if to say something, then turned and left.

  Rayne rubbed her eyes, her emotional turmoil now including anger and embarrassment at her show of weakness. Going into the bathroom, she splashed her face, then returned to sit in the lounge and contemplate her future. If the Shrike kept his word, she would soon be back on Atlan and reunited with Rawn. If not, she could face any number of horrors. She regretted her ill-advised threat now, and resolved to take it back when next she saw him.

  On Vengeance's bridge, Marcon looked up from his holograms and announced, "We've just received another signal, Commander, dead ahead again."

  Tallyn’s looked grim. "Time delay?"

  "Still more than two days."

  "The same heading," Tallyn mused, his brows knotted.

  "Do you want to call for an escort before we go any further into this area, sir?"

  "No, continue."

  Rawn asked, "What's so dangerous about where we're going?"

  Tallyn turned to him. "The signal is leading us into an area of space that's notorious for outlaws and petty tyrants. That in itself isn't of great concern, since Vengeance is a battle cruiser and few can hope to match her. But we're heading into the territory of a particularly nasty and… powerful tyrant. Since we left Gergonia, the trail has led straight here, so there's little hope that it's going to change its heading now."

  "So who is this tyrant you're so concerned about?"

  "He's known as the Shrike, and he has a particularly bad reputation of hostility towards intruders. He has a large fleet, and is considered dangerous. No doubt one of his buyers purchased Rayne on Gergonia and took her to one of his bases. They have no reason to harm her, I assure you. As a valuable slave, she'll be treated well."

  Rawn studied the commander's tense face. Since Rayne's abduction, Tallyn had put on a convincing facade of bluff confidence and unconcern, but Rawn could tell he was worried. He wondered how much of Tallyn's concern stemmed from Rayne's abduction, and how much was because she had fallen into the hands of this particular slaver. Putting aside his worries, Rawn asked the question that had been burning in his mind since they left Atlan.

  "Just how are you tracking her? What's this signal you're following?"

  Tallyn hesitated, shooting him a guilty look. "When you were brought to Atlan, you were both fitted with cyber implants. It's standard procedure, so one day you can be trained to use them to link with our data nets and such, but they also serve as beacons."

  Rawn rubbed the spot above his left ear, which, although he had no scar there, was where the terrible headaches had started in the weeks after their testing and immunisation. Anger chilled him, but he quelled the hot words that sprang onto his tongue.

  "Beacons. So you can always track us down."

  "For your safety. We're your guardians. We have to be able to keep you safe."

  "You didn't do a very good job with Rayne, did you?"

  "A slip. It won't happen again, and we'll find her, I swear."

  Rawn glared at him. "When you do, we're having these things taken out of our heads, got it?"

  "If not for the beacon, we'd have very little chance of ever finding her again. That implant will save her life."

  "You put these things in our heads without our permission, and you'll remove them if we tell you to!"

  Tallyn made a calming gesture. "You can't have them removed. They're considered compulsory in our society. Without them, you wouldn't be able to use the space net, drive a car, hell, even some doors won't open for you. We all have one."

  Rawn frowned at Marcon. "You do?"

  Marcon nodded. "Most of the interfacing done here is through the implants. Atlanteans have them fitted at a young age, and they're used for most everyday transactions between us and machines. Cars, databases, medical facilities, purchasing, selling, whatever's done through the space net or with machines requires a cyber implant's codes. It's also how we convert our thoughts into signals that machines can understand."

  "Then we'll keep that part of them, but the beacons must go."

  "That's not for you to decide," Tallyn said. "Yours will be deactivated if that's what you want, but it's up to Rayne to make her decision. After what she's been through, she might want to keep it."

  "Fine. As long as she knows what you did to her and has a choice, which she should have had in the first place. I don't like the fact that we were never consulted about it, asked if we wanted it, or even told we had the damned things. You treated us like animals."

  Tallyn glanced at Marcon, unwilling to meet Rawn's angry eyes. Instead, he studied the holograms scrolling up in front of his lieutenant, trying to ignore Rawn's glare. He could not deny that what the council had ordered was wrong. The humans should have at least been told what had been done to them. The f
act that Atlantean children were fitted without being consulted did not mean alien adults should be treated the same way.

  After a short silence, Rawn asked, "What's this 'time delay' you were talking about earlier?"

  "The beacon gives off a normal microwave signal," Tallyn explained. "It only travels at the speed of light. The ship on which Rayne travelled was moving much faster than light, so the signals were left behind, like bread crumbs on a path. The time delay is how long the signal had been travelling when we picked it up."

  "Two days?"

  "Well, that's almost how long she's been missing, so we're still following the track of her second abductor, the one who took her from Gergonia. Unfortunately, it took us a long time to pick up her trail from Atlan. But now that we're on the right track, it's only a matter of time before we catch up."

  Rawn grunted and gazed across the bridge, wishing it was not taking quite so long. Every passing hour increased his worry. Their progress was slow, for in order to detect the signals, Vengeance had to decelerate and shed the energy shell. Even though they knew which direction the signals were heading in, they could not risk overshooting their destination and being forced to double back, perhaps losing the trail forever when the signals dispersed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rayne watched a vidfilm documentary of an obscure alien ecology, which she found rather fascinating in a shuddery sort of way. The suite was equipped with a diverse selection of entertainment and informative vidfilms, some of which she had sampled to stave off boredom. When the door opened, she looked up in surprise, expecting the Shrike. Instead, the diminutive slave girl who had served lunch stood in the doorway, her eyes cold. Rayne's gaze slid past to the temptingly open door, but, even as she stared at it, the girl stepped forward and it slid shut. The slave eyed Rayne with obvious dislike.