“Sorry, sir.”
The space line screen turned grey and slid back into its slot, leaving Tarke staring at the stars through the snakes of golden brilliance that crawled over the screens when they were semi-enveloped in the transfer Net. He was certain the Draycon captain had been on the verge of selling him the girl when the Atlanteans had arrived and messed everything up, and he cursed them.
“The Shrike stopped Norvar?” Tallyn demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Marcon replied. “Not him personally. As I understand it, he has two of his cruisers and a battleship confronting Norvar. There’s another small ship nearby; sounds like Rayne’s ship.”
“Can Hood find out what’s going on between them?”
“They’re not currently communicating, sir.”
Tallyn grunted. “So, he must have offered them something, or they’d be in battle by now. Rayne claims he’s her guardian.” He shrugged when Marcon’s brows shot up. “That’s what she says, and he does seem to turn up whenever she’s in trouble. Tell Hood not to start anything. I want to know what the situation is first.”
“Hood’s not going to take on two cruisers and a battleship, sir.”
“How many ships are en route, and when do they arrive?”
Marcon checked a hologram. “Three cruisers were dispatched from Atlan. They should be there within the next half an hour. A battleship was called in from Hansovar. It should be there within the hour, and we’ll be there in two hours.”
“I wonder how many more ships Shrike’s got on the way.”
“He won’t risk himself if we’re there.”
“You’re right,” Tallyn agreed. “What’s more, he might have been able to rescue her without a shot being fired, since he’s a slaver. The Draycons might have sold her to him if he promised to sell her to a murderer.”
He shook his head. “But I’m being as naive as Rayne. I don’t know why he’s there, and I refuse to believe he’s her guardian, even if he did lend her a ship. It makes no sense. Rayne may be pretty, but, from what I’ve heard, the Shrike doesn’t have a yen for women. Or men. Maybe he took vows. It’s what makes him one of the weirdest slavers in the galaxy, and the most difficult to spy on.”
“Does this mean we’re not going to attack the Shrike’s ships?”
“We have problems enough as it is. If we can get her quickly enough, sure, I’ll put a few holes in his ships.”
“What if he offers to join forces?” Marcon asked.
“He won’t. If he’s here to try to rescue her, let him, but we’ll get to her first, I guarantee it.”
“Sir, that strikes me as counterproductive. He’s shown he wants to help her by lending her a ship; surely it’s in her best interests for us to let him help with her rescue?”
“The man is a wanted criminal, Marcon. If I can rescue her and bag him too, I will.”
“But if he’s her guardian, you’ll be countering the prophecy.”
“The prophecy doesn’t mention a guardian,” Tallyn said. “It’s possible Rayne made up this guardian story to stop us hunting him. Maybe she’s formed some sort of attachment to him, because he released her when she was his slave. As to why he loaned her a ship...” He threw up his hands. “I don’t know. But I’m not going to make such a dangerous assumption based on so few facts.”
One of Marcon’s holograms flashed, and he placed his hand on the sensor pad. “A communication from Hood. They demanded the release of the girl, and Norvar tried to move off. One of the Shrike’s ships fired a shot across her bows. Communications have opened between Norvar and the Shrike’s lead cruiser.”
“Tap it.”
Marcon closed his eyes, concentrating. “The Shrike’s cruiser is offering to buy the girl, refusing to allow Norvar to pass. Norvar has sent a distress signal to Amranon. They’re accusing the Shrike’s cruiser of colluding with us.”
“Damn,” Tallyn muttered. “Now things will get messy.”
Rayne paced her tiny cell, trying to figure out how she could get out of this mess. An hour ago, her jailers had released her from the table and thrown her in here. Evidently the Draycons were too busy to torture her, and she hoped it was because Shadowen’s distress call had been answered. She had not spoken to him for a while, afraid the transmission could be detected if the Draycons found the right frequency. Even now, she was reluctant to call him and find out what was happening, not wishing to be cut off from him if she was discovered.
The cell door slid open, and four Draycons entered. Two held stunners trained on her, the other two carried a metre-square steel box. An officer, judging by his garish red and gold uniform, stood behind them, his lips twisted in a vile smile.
“We brought you a pet to play with, human. Of course, it’s more likely to play with you, and I shall enjoy watching. It’s no longer possible to take you to Amranon, so you’ll die right here, in a few minutes.”
Rayne’s eyes flicked to the box. “I thought your priests wanted me alive.”
“They did, but our plans have changed. You can thank your Atlantean friends for speeding your death, and also making it considerably more painful.”
The guards put the box down and left, the other two backed away, their weapons trained on her. The officer raised a hand in a mocking salute.
“Goodbye, human.” He sniggered as the door slid shut.
Rayne wondered what resided inside the box. If it was an animal, it could not be much bigger than a medium-sized dog, but it did not have to be big to be dangerous. She had studied many alien life forms whose deadliness was only exceeded by their ugliness. Some could be killed, and she had learnt every conceivable way to dispose of the creatures, but a few were almost indestructible. Would the Draycons underestimate her abilities? She hoped so with growing fervour as she gazed at the silent box.
A whir and click made her jump as the front of the box slid back, revealing a dark interior. Her heart pounded as she waited for the alien to appear. After about a minute, a tri-clawed leg appeared over the edge of the doorway and gripped the steel lip. Another bright orange claw joined it, then a third. With a jerk, the alien shot into the light, and Rayne swallowed a scream. A mariner. Her mind whirled. She had no idea why they were called mariners, for they came from an arid planet whose sun slow-roasted it. The study data she had accessed on Atlan had marked this creature with a bright red danger symbol: deadly. More than that, however, the thing was impervious just about everything save ejecting it into space.
The mariner raised a three-eyed nub from its carapace. With its three hundred and sixty-degree vision, it could not miss her. The black spots of its eyes swivelled, nonetheless, examining its new prison, and its next meal. Six triple-jointed legs splayed from its pear-shaped, rigid torso. Its exoskeleton’s orange plates shifted as the muscles within it flexed. Its tri-tail, three whip-like appendages of armoured muscle, remained curled on its back. She tensed, ready to run, for the mariner was fabled for its speed. Knowing she had little hope of escaping it, she used her implant.
Shadowen, they’ve put an alien in the cell with me, to kill me. It’s a mariner.
Mariners are movement hunters. Stay quite still. That is your best hope.
She froze. What else can I do?
Nothing. You are in great danger. Do not move.
Rayne fought the urge to run. The alien moved towards her, uncurling three metre-long feelers. Its curved jaws, tipped with black fangs, bit with a horizontal scissor movement. Hidden under its belly were two needle-like appendages it used to inject its victim with an embalming fluid. Mariners took a long time to eat their prey, for they hunted far larger creatures. To conserve their food, they injected a preserving fluid contained in sacs under the carapace. The bloated soil-eaters of their home world were scarce, so they could not afford to waste food by allowing it to rot.
A female mariner laid eggs in her prey, then left it for her young to consume and hunted again. Males often used their preserved food to entice females for mating. Seldom did a marin
er kill more than twice in its short lifetime. The food their mother provided nourished her young to adulthood, then males killed once to entice a mate, usually chasing her away afterwards and eating the remainder themselves.
The females often hunted twice, once for their offspring, once for themselves. If they did not find a second victim, they starved. The soil-eaters, like giant worms, made vast networks of tunnels as they ate their way through the ground, and mariners hunted in these. The cell’s bright light seemed to affect the one that kept her company. It withdrew the three-eyed nub and curled its legs, only its feelers waving.
Rayne wondered if she dared to slide down the wall and sit, or whether the alien would detect the movement. She asked Shadowen.
It will detect it, the ship replied. It may even sense your breathing, anyway.
Oh, great. What do I do if it attacks me?
There is not much you can do. Presently the Draycon ship’s captain has reached a standoff with the Shrike’s cruisers. Negotiations for your sale were going well when an Atlantean ship arrived, now the Draycons suspect the Shrike of trying to rescue you as well. Right now, all sides are awaiting reinforcements. This means you will not be rescued soon, so avoid alerting it to your presence.
Rayne groaned inwardly. That’s why they put this damned thing in here with me. They’re making sure that even if they lose the battle, I’ll be dead.
Shadowen replied, It would seem so. However, a mariner is not the ideal choice of executioner. If it does attack, it kills quite slowly, for it has no poison. The embalming fluid it injects eventually kills, but it takes several hours. The mouthparts inject a paralysing agent.
Rayne wished the alien could be killed by stamping on it, as she longed to do.
The Shrike studied the ships that twinkled in the foreground of a spectacular star field known as the Medulan Belt as Scimarin decelerated towards them. His three ships were clustered ahead of the Draycon battle cruiser, which glowed in the starlight like a massive crimson saucer. Behind the saucer, the silver ovoid of the Atlantean ship glinted. Everything stopped rushing towards him as Scimarin dropped out of the Net and halted, the two cruisers flanking her. The golden fire crawled off the screens as the energy shell dispersed, and he examined the situation. His timing was good, because several more golden spots swelled into visibility and slowed, shedding shells to reveal their true colours. Three more Atlantean cruisers, and another Draycon ship, a cruiser, smaller than Norvar.
“Well, well. It’s getting quite crowded around here,” he muttered. “Let’s hope the neighbourhood bullies don’t decide to pick on me.” He consulted the holograms. “Contact Shadowen; find out what’s happening to the girl.”
A few seconds passed, then Scimarin replied, “She is in a cell with a random waveform field. Apparently the Draycons became suspicious when the Atlantean ship arrived, and put a mariner in with her.”
“Then there’s no time to waste. We’ll have to board her. What ships are on the way?”
“The five you called will be here in half an hour. Two more cruisers, two battleships and a star class carrier.”
“A carrier. Good. I’ll need the troops to board Norvar. Right now, we’ve got to breach her shields and try to rescue the girl.”
“Norvar has stress shields,” Scimarin pointed out.
“I know. And whoever sold them the technology should be shot. Get me Erdan.”
While he waited for the space line to connect, two more Atlantean ships arrived, one of which he recognised. He glanced at the space line, where a broad, bearded, frowning Atlantean had appeared.
“Commander Erdan. I want that ship boarded within the next fifteen minutes. Altogether we have seven ships here, with five more due in the next half an hour. Time is of the essence. Ignore the Atlanteans unless they interfere, and keep that cruiser busy.”
Erdan’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Sir, that’s a battle cruiser, not a slaver. With all due respect, you’re asking the impossible.”
“Then do the impossible.” Tarke’s tone brooked no argument, and the Atlantean paled.
“Sir, you’re in grave danger -”
“Let me worry about that. Board that ship, Commander.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tallyn frowned at the bizarre collection of ships on the main screen. Never had he dreamt to see these three enemies in such close proximity. Most surprising was the Shrike’s presence, which still perplexed him. From what he had learnt of the ships in the area, the Shrike himself was now here, aboard a small ship like Rayne’s. He pulled a wry face at Marcon.
“All we need is for the Char’agran to turn up, and the four greatest powers in the known universe will be represented. But we’ll have to settle for three. Have you found out who the other Draycon ship is?”
“Yes, sir. Carron, captained by Ronass.”
“And her affiliation?”
“Gorder Bonn Priesthood, same as Norvar.”
Tallyn grunted. “Pity. Some rivals are bound to show up soon, though. If they start fighting each other, so much the better.”
“That’s unlikely, sir. Historically, Draycons always stick together in times of war, plus it would endanger the girl.”
“I’m aware of that, Marcon, thank you. But these are different circumstances, because whoever wins the girl becomes ruler of the Draycon Empire. Which means they won’t co-operate, and nor will they endanger her. They need her alive, or at least intact, to show the priests. If she’s lost, they lose.” Tallyn turned his attention to the main screen and raised his brows in surprise. “What the hell is he doing?”
Marcon shook his head. “That’s suicide.”
On the screen, the giant red saucer hung now within a glowing golden nimbus, its energy shell activated by the proximity of three ink-black ships, each similarly engulfed. The shells blazed with hot yellow brilliance where they met, flashes of radiant energy shooting off into space in random bursts as the shells’ confinement was breached.
“They’re pulling themselves closer with attractors,” Tallyn said. “The overloading will burn out Norvar’s stress shields, reducing them to an energy shell only.”
“Which will be nullified if the Shrike’s ships can tune their shells to the same waveform,” Marcon observed.
“It’s still suicide.” Tallyn’s eyes flicked to the lone black ship at the edge of the screen. “Our slaver friend isn’t partaking in it himself, only ordering it.”
“Those men must have nerves of steel, or death wishes.”
“Or immense loyalty. If any of those energy shells overloads, the whole lot will blow. Norvar will survive, but those cruisers will be vaporised.”
A flash of blue radiance engulfed Norvar for an instant, and Marcon said, “Their stress shield just burnt out.”
A burst of laser beams slashed space with eye-searing brilliance, making many of the observers wince and squint, while others looked away. Tallyn blinked spots from his eyes. Most of the beams missed; only a few could be brought to bear on ships that were in such close proximity. Those that found their targets left glowing spots on the black ships’ sleek hulls, for they had been forced to deactivate their stress shields in order to overload Norvar’s.
Tallyn shook his head in reluctant admiration. This was obviously a well-practised tactic, but one he guessed had never been tried on a heavily armed battle cruiser before. Even so, it was proving effective, and he pitied any ship that took on the Shrike’s captains. The three black ships fired back, scoring hits on Norvar’s unprotected hull. The energy shell would not protect against weapons, but it would prevent transferring or physical contact until it was neutralised. A fourth black ship moved closer, a huge battleship larger than Vengeance, its weapons targeting the area Tallyn knew contained the heavily armoured Net link. Once that was gone, Norvar would be almost helpless.
Carron headed towards her embattled sister ship, but three black cruisers blocked her way, each more than a match for her. Tallyn noticed the extra ships with
a start, nudging Marcon, who consulted his holograms.
“Five more of the Shrike’s ships, three cruisers, a battleship and a carrier, have arrived. They’ve only been here for a few minutes.”
“He’s certainly not taking any chances. I wonder who he’s planning to fight, the Draycons or us.”
“Four more ships approaching from the direction of Amranon.”
“Draycons. I think it’s time we got involved. Tell the other ships to head towards the new arrivals and meet them when they emerge from their shells. Instruct the senior commander to ask what affiliation they have, or find out, at any rate, then advise me.”
“Sir, what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to see if we can beat the Shrike to the prize. If Norvar’s energy shell fails, we can transfer Rayne out within a few minutes. We just have to locate her and get her out of that random stress field.”
Marcon’s brows rose. “And how will we do that?”
Tallyn shrugged. “Someone will have to go and look for her.”
Rayne faced the alien, frozen against the wall, hardly daring to breathe. For a while it had stayed still, but now it moved towards her again. Its feelers waved at her as if sensing her, as Shadowen had said it might. She tried to decide whether to move away or remain still. If it had sensed her, remaining where she was would be folly, but if it had not, moving was suicide.
A feeler brushed her leg, making her shiver and fight the increasing urge to run. The three-eyed nub popped out of its bony socket and seemed to look straight at her. The feeler slid up the silky material of her suit with a soft rasp. Her nerve broke, and with a shriek, she dived aside, throwing out her arms and snapping into a roll that brought her up against the other wall.
The alien moved, and she knew why it was called a mariner. The tri-tail uncoiled with a snap, and its six legs whirred in a swimming motion that propelled it towards her at an alarming speed. She leapt away, bouncing off the padded wall, not taking her eyes off the alien. The tri-tail lashed, sending it through the air at her. With a sob, she smashed it aside, hysteria rising in a choking tide. She used her slight powers of teleportation to aid the alien’s flight across the room, where it rebounded off the wall. As soon as its claws touched the floor, it zoomed back towards her, feelers lashing. She leapt over it, and the tri-tail whipped around her ankle.
Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship Page 4
