Prophecy se-1

by T C Southwell

  "Endrix says only one of your ships will be good enough to do whatever it is I have to do when the time comes. He didn't go into the details. And you don't have to give it to me, a loan will do."

  He chuckled. "A loan. This Endrix seems to think he knows everything."

  "He also said you're not what you appear to be, and if you told me the truth it would surprise me."

  "Did he? Yes, I suppose it would."

  "But you're not going to tell me the truth, are you?"

  He stepped around the chair and sat in it, appearing friendlier and more relaxed. "No. But I might loan you a ship."

  Her heart leapt. "On what conditions?"

  "Conditions?" He paused, and she wished she knew what he was thinking, or at least could sense his emotions, but his guard was up. He shook his head. "Only one. That you stay the hell off my bases and away from me. When you're finished with the ship, it will return to me."

  Rayne stared at him, shocked. "Why?"

  "I don't have to explain myself to you. It shouldn't be a problem, since you find my company so abhorrent."

  "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. It's just that what you did was so terrible, so shocking, killing that slaver in cold blood like that, setting a trap for him. Using me as bait. Now that I'm over the shock of it, I don't dislike your company. In fact, I'd like to get to know you better."

  "Would you?" he murmured. "A dangerous ambition. Few people know me well, and they're utterly loyal. They would die before revealing anything about me to my enemies. You, on the other hand, are an unknown quantity, and might still be working for the Atlanteans. You have no proof that anything you've told me is true. I only have your word for it."

  He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "Granted, you're right about the Crystal Ship, so you've been to Elliadaren. But that doesn't prove anything else, does it?"

  "No." She lifted her chin. "But I would never betray someone who helped me. You can trust me. Read my mind if you don't believe me, I won't try to stop you."

  "I never delve that deep into the thoughts of others. It lays bare far too much that's private. Which shows how little you know about the subject."

  "But I can sense when…" She frowned, confused. Usually she could sense when someone was lying, but she had failed with him.

  "If you know when someone's lying, you're an empath, and that's really dangerous."

  "Why?"

  "Why?" He snorted. "How many people do you know who would like to be caught lying?"

  "The people I know don't lie."

  "Of course, the Atlanteans. Damn, but they're a stuck-up, self-righteous lot. Never did like them." He rose and came around the table to loom over her. "Let's get this over with, shall we? I'll take you to the hangar, where you can meet your ship."

  "I haven't agreed to your condition," she pointed out as she stood up to face him.

  He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. You won't find me next time."

  "What if I need your help?"

  The Shrike turned and went to the door, where he waited for her to join him before leading her down the corridor. He set a brisk pace, which made it difficult to talk, so she followed him in silence. To her surprise, he took her back to her apartment and pointed at a black one-piece suit draped over the back of a chair.

  "Put that on. And to answer your previous question, why the hell should I help you any more than I already have?"

  She glanced at the clothes. "Why must I wear that?"

  "Because, in case you haven't noticed, my people think you're a slaver, come to do business with me. They don't like rival slavers, which is why I had to have you guarded. My rivals visit me rarely, and when they do, they don't wander about the station, not even in my company. It makes my people angry. So put on the suit."

  The Shrike stepped back, and the door shut in her face. She picked up the suit with its hawk-like emblem and went into the bedroom to change. He was becoming more and more confusing, this strange man, and she could not figure him out at all. When she had been afraid, he had been gentle and kind, but firm and mysterious too. Now he was harsher, brisk, suspicious, and downright rude.

  When she had changed, she found Tarke waiting outside, and followed him back down the corridor that led to the hangars. The guards were absent, so apparently he had dismissed them outside her apartment. They marched through the room with the glass-walled office and into the next hangar, where she had seen the black ship before. It was still there, or perhaps it had returned, and she gazed up at it with a thrill of awe.

  "This one?"

  He nodded. "Its name is Shadowen. It's the same ship you travelled in to Octovar One."

  "I thought it was your special ship?"

  "It was, but I've built a new one, slightly better, but basically this one's twin. I even cloned the bio-crystalline brain. They're almost identical. Shadowen is twenty years old, which is not young by a ship's standards. It was due for an overhaul and a refit, which it's had now, since the new one's been in service. I had planned to use them both, but I don't really need two."

  Rayne gazed at the ship. "She's beautiful."

  "I wouldn't call Shadowen a 'she', if I was you. It's a moot point, but the brain prefers a masculine title. I'm assuming your guide had one of my companion ships in mind when he told you to ask me for a ship, since they're my best, far superior to anything Atlan has. They're faster, and able to withstand more stress than a bigger ship, like a battle cruiser. But it has a good deal of firepower and an excellent Net link, which is a ship's most important asset.

  "As long as it's linked to the Net, this ship can hold its own in battle with a cruiser the size of Vengeance. Not only does it have a number of fore and aft energy weapons, it also has one-way stress screens, which the Atlanteans don't. Their ships have to lower their screens for an instant to fire their weapons, this one doesn't."

  He headed for an almost invisible door in the sleek hull. "By the way, if you try to hand this ship over to the Atlanteans, it will return to me, and you won't be received so cordially if you come here again."

  "I wouldn't."

  He stopped beside the door. "But they might try to take it. They'd love to get their hands on one of my ships and study it. Shadowen won't allow that either."

  Rayne nodded. "If necessary, I'll stay away from Atlan."

  "Where else would you go?"

  "I don't know. I want to visit Endrix's world. He said I could, but if the Atlanteans try to take the ship, I'll have to find somewhere else to wait for the Envoy to appear."

  Tarke faced her in silence for several seconds, as if trying to decide what to make of her, then turned to the ship. The door opened with a hiss, and two steps floated out to hang suspended on antigravity fields. He walked up them, vanishing within. Rayne followed him into a dim bridge, where tiny crystals glowed and a soft background hum sent faint vibrations under her feet.

  "Hello, Tarke." A bland, sexless voice, which she assumed was the ship, spoke out of the gloom.

  "Shadowen, this is Rayne," the Shrike said. "I'm loaning you to her for a while. She has a mission. When she's completed it, you'll return to me."

  A pregnant silence fell, and she could have sworn she sensed the ship's confusion and dismay, but that was impossible, since it was a machine. It said, "Very well."

  "You'll have to be linked to her biorhythms for the duration."

  "I understand."

  Dark turned to her. "My companion ships are linked to my biorhythms, so if I die they self-destruct. I can't leave him linked to me, in case something happens to me, but he has to be linked to someone."

  She nodded. "Okay."

  He faced a console, and a slot opened on it. It looked like a neural net sensor pad, and she shot him an enquiring glance.

  "It is a neural net slot, I'm afraid," he answered her thoughts. "Shadowen requires a brief link, to learn your particular patterns and rhythms. It will only take a moment."

  With a slight grimace, she slid her hand into
the slot and shut her eyes as the data stream swept through her brain. Far more information appeared than she had experienced on the scout ship. The river of knowledge was too deep to plumb, and was not meant to be. She sensed that anyone who tried to control this ship through the neural net would be driven mad in moments by the sheer mass and complexity of the information within it.

  Emotions were mixed with the flood of words and numbers, as if she read a person's mind, which made her uncomfortable. Mercifully, the link only last a few seconds, then the grey nothingness of the no-place filled her mind, and she pulled her hand out, staggering a little as emptiness flooded her brain on the heels of the neural net's occupation.

  Tarke gripped her arm and guided her to the solitary, form-fitting seat that faced the screens, and she sank into it. The Shrike stood beside her, his gloved hands clasped before him.

  "Now you have a ship. One that won't allow a stranger to enter without your permission or any harm come to you, if he can possibly stop it. His loyalty will cause him to sacrifice himself, if necessary, to save you. He does not require a neural link during flight. He's quite capable of dealing with almost any situation, and if he can't, he'll tell you. You can tell him where to go, then go and sleep, if you want. It's like having a pilot, only this one's part of the ship."

  "He's amazing," she murmured.

  "Thank you," the ship replied. "It's good to be appreciated."

  "Will he still be loyal to you as well?"

  Dark nodded. "I'm afraid so. No chance of stealing him. He'll always obey me, but then, I won't be around."

  Her face grew hot, and she was glad of the gloom. "I wasn't thinking of stealing him. I just wondered."

  "He could have told you that himself."

  A sudden thought made her smile. "I daresay I could learn a lot from him. He must even know what you look like."

  "Well, that's an unpleasant fact, isn't it? Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid he won't oblige." His voice was hard, and he swung away, striding to the door.

  Rayne hurried after him, catching up as he marched past the glass office. "Tarke…"

  He ignored her, and she followed him back to her apartment, where he turned to face her, making no effort to hide his anger. "Is that what this is all about? Are you just an Atlantean spy with a great way of tricking me into revealing my secrets?"

  "No! If I was, I wouldn't have made that comment, would I?"

  "Not unless you were incredibly stupid, but sometimes I do wonder. You seem so naive, yet you're charged with saving the Atlantean Empire, and you tell some pretty amazing stories. The worst part is, I believed you. I still do." He turned away, raising a hand as if to run it through his hair, then encountered the mask and lowered it. "What is it about you, anyway?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I find myself talking to you far too much, and I never talk to people. You have a knack for asking the wrong questions, and I have to stop myself answering them. You're dangerous."

  She shook her head, confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I was kidding, really."

  He swung around. "No you weren't. You would have asked him. Fortunately, it's the one thing he won't tell anyone. But he'll tell you a lot of other things, most of which you'll find very hard to believe."

  "The truth about you?"

  "Yes."

  She sank down on a chair, her legs weak. "Is it so terrible?"

  "If it reaches the ears of my enemies, yes."

  "The Atlanteans?"

  He sat opposite, shaking his head. "No. They wouldn't believe it. I should never have agreed to loan you one of my ships. What was I thinking?"

  "I won't betray you." The urge to jump on him and rip off the mask was overwhelming. "Who are your enemies? Other slavers? What are you hiding from them?"

  He stood up and strode over to the dispenser to pour himself a fizzy green drink. "I should never have agreed to see you. I wouldn't, if you hadn't mentioned Elliadaren. I had a feeling this would happen." He sipped his drink and walked closer, clearly ill at ease. She watched him, uncertain of what to say. Finally he murmured, "All right, I'll tell you, since you'll find out anyway. But first you must swear never to tell another slaver."

  "I don't know any -"

  "You'll meet a few, I have no doubt. Drevina was one, and there are plenty more. Assume everyone is a slaver until you know they're not. All my people know the truth about me, but they'd never reveal it, not even under torture. So, if you want that ship, you'll swear to keep my secret."

  "A condition?"

  He nodded. "Unfortunately, I can't order Shadowen not to tell you about me. I've given you the highest authority with him, and I can't lend him to you without it. If I tried to prevent him from telling you, it would confuse him, and he wouldn't be able to function properly."

  Rayne gazed at him, recalling Endrix's enigmatic words. The prospect of learning at least some of his secrets excited her, and she was ready to agree to just about anything to achieve it. This window into his mystery was an unexpected boon, a strange by-product of his loaning her the ship. "I swear that whatever you're about to tell me will die with me, unspoken."

  "Well, that's a pretty promise. Couldn't have worded it better myself." He sank down on the chair next to hers, putting his drink on the table. "I'll make it brief. I'm not a slaver."

  Rayne stared at him, stunned, as a lot of things made sense and she realised Drayalia had been telling the truth. Some things still confused her, however, and she frowned. "But… all the people here…"

  "Are ex-slaves I've rescued, and sworn to my service. That's what I do, steal slaves from slavers and free them. All my crews and their families, every person who works for me was once a slave. That's how I know they won't betray me. Even those who are still in slavery know about me, but they'll never betray me, because I'm their only hope of salvation. If the other slavers ever found out, they'd have me assassinated."

  "But… I saw a woman begging you, on her knees…"

  He turned his head away. "She wasn't begging, she was thanking me for saving her. Sometimes they get emotional. It's embarrassing."

  "And the Mar'Ashan you killed?"

  "Jamdar. A bastard. He was selling slaves to the Saurians in the Outer Belt." At her puzzled look he added, "They don't need slaves for labour or entertainment, they eat them."

  She raised a hand to her mouth in horror, sour bile burning her throat. "Oh, god."

  "Quite. I needed pretty bait to corner that monster, and you were it. I knew exactly what sort of female slaves he liked for his entertainment, and in exchange I got two hundred starved, miserable sods destined for the Outer Belt. He used to buy second and third-grade slaves in bulk, ones who were old, sick or maimed. Children with no potential and women burnt out by drugs."

  He turned his head briefly in her direction, and she sensed a flash of pain from him. "I had no intention of allowing him to take you. After his death became public, I raided his bases and saved five hundred more, but thousands before them died."

  "And the seventy-four slavers you've killed? They weren't just rivals, then?"

  "No." He picked up his drink and sipped it. "And it's a lot more than seventy-four. The Atlanteans try to fight slavery, but they're useless at it. They raid the odd base, rescue a few slaves, maybe even arrest a slaver from time to time. But to know what's really going on, you need to be in the thick of things, like me. Oddly enough, killing off other slavers has proved profitable, and at the same time I've been able to free countless slaves. It's the biggest business in space. Bodies are in great demand, and for a variety of purposes, from taming raw, hostile planets to pandering to the demands of the rich and debauched."

  "Did you really think I'd betray you to your rivals?"

  "No, not really, I suppose. You're clearly against slavery, and I saved you from a collar, too, whether or not you appreciate it."

  She looked away. "I do now. Then I was too angry and confused. So why did you lie to me?"

  "So yo
u wouldn't come back. When you thought I was a slaver, you didn't want anything more to do with me, did you? It would have worked, too, if not for this guide of yours. The fewer free people who know the truth about me, the safer I am. Slaves will never betray me."

  She hesitated. "Why did you think I'd want to come back? I didn't plan to, nor would I, if not for Endrix, even if you'd told me the truth then."

  "Wouldn't you? Perhaps I underestimated your maturity. A girl your age tends to harbour romantic notions, and knowing I'm not the evil slaver you thought, you might have wanted to return and unveil my secrets." He cocked his head. "Perhaps you even hoped to find a handsome prince behind this mask, and dreamt of a fairy tale ending, like Robin Hood."

  Rayne cursed the blood that crept into her face, unable to hide her embarrassment, and tried to brazen it out. "I'll admit, I'm still curious about what you're hiding and why. That's only natural, but I'm not such a naive romantic. I never had any such ambitions, and still don't."

  "That's good." He stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Leave whenever you're ready, and good luck."

  The Shrike headed for the door without a backward glance, and was gone before she could collect her scattered wits. She stared at the door for several minutes, puzzled and disappointed. Knowing the truth about him only increased her fascination, which he had already sensed, to her embarrassment. Yet when she should have wanted nothing more than to quit his station and his company to prove him wrong, she found herself longing to stay and talk to him some more. Determined to thwart her foolish desires, she packed and left the apartment, heading for the hangar.

  Its smooth, sexless voice welcomed her aboard, and she settled into the form-fitting chair after stowing her baggage. When she asked how to go about leaving the base, Shadowen informed her that he could do all that was necessary, and all she had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride. The soft hum of the anti-gravity coils increased, and the dome above rolled open, allowing egress. She experienced a pang of regret as the dull brown world shrank on the screens, wondering if she would ever see the Shrike again.

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