Slave Empire III - The Shrike

by Southwell, T C

  Here, she said, see what I fear more than anything, which will unleash my demons upon us both. She imagined Tarke stretched out on an Atlantean execution block, his arms shackled to the edges. He gazed at the blade that would kill him as it plunged into his heart. She shuddered from the shock, imagining his dead face and blind eyes.

  Rayne flung open all the doors within her mind. The Envoy’s void rushed in and the howling emptiness engulfed her, sweeping away the telepath’s mind like chaff in a cyclone. For a moment longer she clung to sanity, but the massive void was too powerful for her to push back anymore. It swept into every crevice of her mind, snuffed out every thought, filled her head with darkness and banished all the light. Scrysalza’s seals perished in the blankness, its healing succumbed to the pain, and the howling emptiness swallowed Rayne.

  Semil cried out as the telepath released the girl and collapsed.

  Jadon examined him. “He’s dead.”

  “Of course he is.” Endrin watched the holograms, an injector ready. “My god, no one dreamt she was so powerful, but we should have realised she was different. No one could survive what killed the Envoy, and we were fools to try. That poor fool paid with his life, but at least she’s still alive, that’s more important.”

  A buzzing alarm made Semil swing to stare at one of the screens. “Not anymore.”

  The monitor’s readout had dropped to a flat line, and Endrin scowled at it in horror.

  “Brain function has ceased,” Jadon said.

  “Give me a neural stimulator!”

  Endrin pushed Semil aside and leant over the girl’s head, holding out his hand for the instrument Jadon slapped into it. He pressed the pad to her temple and activated it. The girl’s eyes fluttered closed, and she gasped. The doctor moved the stimulator over her head, making her twitch as it stimulated various parts of her brain. The others stared at the monitor. It remained flat, and, after several fruitless minutes, Endrin straightened, his heart heavy with weariness and defeat.

  “It’s hopeless.”

  “Her vital signs have steadied.” Jadon indicated the green lights of the other machines’ readings. “They’re all back to normal.”

  “She’s brain dead,” Semil said.

  “But she’s still alive,” Jadon said, as if they had not really failed as long as she still breathed.

  Endrin turned away, his shoulders slumped. “There’s nothing more we can do for her. She’ll never wake up again. She might as well be dead.”

  “That’s not a certainty.”

  The older doctor swung around. “This should never have been attempted!”

  Tarke raised his head as Scimarin broke the silence. “A message from Shadowen: Rayne’s biorhythms have returned to normal.”

  The Shrike straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “So, maybe they weren’t as stupid as I thought. How long to Darmon?”

  “Twenty-seven minutes.”

  “Let me know as soon as she’s back on board Shadowen. I need a drink.”

  Tarke went to the cabin and poured himself a glass of spicy Travin liquor, downed it in a gulp and gasped for several seconds. When the burning in his throat eased, he splashed his face in the bathroom before returning to the bridge. The holographic clock told him that ten minutes had passed, and the ship was decelerating towards Darmon. He stared at the energy-sheathed screens, thinking about what he would say to her.

  Rayne deserved the truth; or at least as much of it as she could handle. He would tell her gradually, in stages, to prevent the shock that might be dangerous. For all her inner strength, she was as fragile as a crystal flower from the windless world of Terrian, which the slightest breeze would shatter. It would make her unhappy, though. He smiled. She would want to fix it.

  “Still no word from Shadowen?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I wonder what they’re planning now.” He frowned. “How many of my ships are in position?”

  “Twelve ships are within striking distance of Atlantean planets. No battles have been engaged as yet, but Atlantean ships are shadowing some of them.”

  “They’ll have to hand her back, or face the consequences, which I know they don’t want to do. Of course, they might also have what they wanted.”

  “It is possible,” Scimarin agreed. “From her earlier physical distress, they did probe her.”

  “That will start a whole new chapter in our little game of ‘catch me while I’m napping if you can’. Contact Tallyn. Let’s find out.”

  After a pause, the ship replied, “He won’t accept your call. The stress shield and energy shell have been deactivated on the facility. Shadowen is transferring Rayne aboard now.”

  Tarke smiled. “So, he’s keeping his word. I thought he might.”

  “A message from Shadowen: you should transfer to him immediately.”

  “Why?”

  “He does not say.”

  Tarke jumped up. “Something’s wrong. Transfer me.”

  “I am still decelerating, but parameters are within safety limits for shell dispersal. Deactivating energy shell. Transfer, now.”

  Tarke glanced around his old ship’s apparently empty bridge as the golden energy vanished. “Where is she?”

  “At your feet,” Shadowen replied.

  Tarke dropped to his knees beside Rayne’s huddled form and rolled her onto her back. She appeared to be unconscious. He scooped her up and carried her to the cabin, where he placed her on the bed.

  He sat beside her and patted her cheek, murmuring, “Come on; snap out of it, Rayne. You’re safe. I’m here. Wake up. Rayne? It’s over. You’re safe. I don’t blame you if they read your mind. It’s not your fault. It’s okay... Come on.”

  Tarke leant over her, trying to draw her out as he had done on the Crystal Ship. A dread formed in the pit of his stomach, chilling it. He thinned his shields and touched her mind, recoiling from the howling emptiness within it, the shock making him shudder. Desperation forced him to try again, a frantic disbelief that only a second glimpse into the terrible void inside her head could dispel. He gazed down at her peaceful face, brushing away strands of flaxen hair that strayed across her cheek. Anguish filled his heart. No vestige of her remained. She had been pushed over the precipice, and the Envoy’s black void had swallowed her.

  “No.” The Shrike gathered her up and cradled her. “No, no, no…” He stroked her hair, whispering in a choked voice, “They killed you, my reyanne. They forced you to run into the darkness, and now you’re lost in the void. I never wanted you to sacrifice yourself for me. I would rather have perished in your stead. Come back to me, please. Find the light that will lead you home.” He blinked as his eyes stung. “Rayne…”

  Tarke called her name again and again, even though he knew he could not awaken her no matter how hard he tried. With each failed attempt to call her back from the dark place she had fled into, his grief deepened. When at last he put her down, his heart seemed frozen. He folded her hands on her breast, rose and strode back to the bridge, picking up the mask Scimarin had transferred across for him.

  “Where are the Atlantean ships?”

  “They are decelerating at a distance. It seems they no longer wish to come to Darmon.”

  He clipped on the mask and donned his gloves. “I want the people who betrayed her. Have her escort cruisers send a detail to find them, then transfer them to one of my ships.” He glanced at the sleek ship in orbit beside Shadowen. “Tell Scimarin to follow and set course to rendezvous with the Atlanteans when they stop.”

  Tarke sank onto the pilot’s seat, and the stars whizzed past as the ship turned. Scimarin vanished from view, and new constellations settled into place, then Net energy enveloped them in its shell as the ship accelerated.

  The Atlantean ships were seven light minutes from Darmon, still decelerating in preparation for their retreat. Since Shadowen and Scimarin had not built up as much speed, they were able to stop far more rapidly, and were waiting when the Atlanteans dropped from
their Net hooks.

  “Call them,” Tarke ordered, and this time the space line screen slid from its slot. Tallyn’s visage appeared on it, looking haggard, but defiant.

  “I’m still trying to decide whether or not to kill you, Tallyn,” Tarke said.

  “With those ships? What are they, emergency pods?”

  “You’d be surprised. Perhaps you’d like a demonstration?”

  Tallyn became brisk. “Look, Shrike, we never intended to harm her. We had no idea she would be so badly affected by a simple probe. The telepath was an expert, one of the best.”

  “Well, he wasn’t good enough. I want him. Either you give him to me, or I’ll take him.”

  Tallyn shook his head. “He’s dead.”

  “How?”

  “She killed him. I don’t know how.”

  “The same way she killed the Envoy,” Tarke said. “The same way she killed herself.”

  “She’s not dead.”

  “How would you know?”

  “She wasn’t when they dropped the shields.” Tallyn’s eyes darted to someone off the screen.

  “She might as well be. She’s still breathing, but can that be called living?”

  “We’re all unhappy about what happened.”

  “Did you get what you wanted?”

  Tallyn shook his head. “No.”

  Tarke leant forward. “I really should kill you. You don’t deserve to live. She thought you were her friend and spoke highly of you. She told me you saved her. You’re a traitor of the worst kind. You allowed someone who trusted you to be harmed, and you were a part of it.”

  “I was following orders,” Tallyn said. “If I’d known -”

  “I warned you.”

  “You could have been lying. It sounded pretty far-fetched.”

  Tarke sat back, lacing his fingers. “I said you had outsmarted yourself. You could have had me. I would have given myself up rather than let her be harmed, but you wouldn’t believe me. You could have saved her and captured me. Instead, you’ve failed. She may not be dead, but you’ve hurt her, and you’re going to pay for that.”

  Tallyn’s mouth twisted in an unpleasant smirk. “You can’t hurt us with those little ships.”

  “No?” Tarke tilted his head. “You know nothing about my ships, and you’re in for a surprise.”

  Tallyn gestured, and the space line went blank and slid into its slot. The challenge had been issued and the battle lines drawn. The three Atlantean cruisers vanished behind energy shells as they activated their shields.

  Tarke smiled. “Tell Scimarin to choose one of the others. Vengeance is mine.”

  “Right,” Shadowen replied.

  “Prepare energy weapons.”

  “Energy weapons activated, preparing to deploy. Target, Atlantean battle cruiser Vengeance, range: five thousand, four hundred and eighty-two metres.”

  Shadowen’s energy shell brightened as the ship drew more power from the link, building the necessary surplus to fuel his weapons. The Atlantean ships did the same as they prepared to defend themselves. The battle would be brief, a symbolic exchange more than anything, for to destroy an Atlantean cruiser would take too long. Damage was possible in a relatively short time, however, and Tarke would settle for that.

  “Target has raised stress shields,” Shadowen said.

  “Target the Net link. Fire.”

  A bolt of Net energy shot from Shadowen’s bows and flashed across the gulf to strike Vengeance just behind her forward antenna array, which also housed the Net link. Her stress shields shredded most of the fire and the shell absorbed some, but the bolt was so powerful that it still struck her hull, smashed the antenna array and melted a portion of hull plating. At the same moment, Scimarin engaged one of the other cruisers, and the Atlanteans fired back.

  Tarke did not give them a chance to reply. Shadowen was underway even as he fired another three energy bolts at the Atlantean battle cruiser. Vengeance staggered under the barrage, her shots missing as they strafed the space where Shadowen had been. Her energy shell overloaded and shed a wave of fire into space, weakening the shell and preventing her from using her energy weapons. A sizeable area of her hull was blackened and stripped of all its delicate equipment, and debris spread from the site.

  Shadowen’s final shot hit the Net link, robbing Vengeance of her ability to draw power from the energy dimension. The cruiser was crippled, and had sustained a small fortune in damage, but Tarke wished the toll could have been higher. Yet short of starting a full-scale war, this skirmish was all he could do without earning reprisals from Atlan and its allies. Tallyn would take it as a personal insult, but the Council would not sanction retaliation for such a minor attack. The oath Tarke had sworn had been specific. It required Rayne’s death to take effect. He could not ask his people to die in their millions to avenge a girl who still lived.

  As Shadowen accelerated towards Darmon, leaving the Atlantean cruisers behind, he went back to the cabin and sat beside Rayne again. If there was a way to bring her out of this, he would find it, and if she died, he would have his vengeance. He returned to the bridge when Shadowen informed him of their arrival at Darmon. Seven more of his ships had arrived in his absence, and the Yasmarian fleet had retreated to a safe distance. Shadowen took up a position near the Shrike’s fleet, and he transferred to the cruiser where the people he had ordered detained were being held.

  Two guards followed the Shrike along the passage, and two more bowed as he marched into a large, sparsely furnished room that was usually used for ceremonial gatherings, crew inspections and conferences. The cruiser’s commander saluted, his face set in grim, sorrowful lines.

  Tarke nodded to the Mansurian, an Atlantean-Shirran cross. “Commander Vayrel. Bring the prisoners in.”

  “May I offer our deepest sympathy, sir.”

  Tarke inclined his head and clasped his hands behind his back. Guards pushed two dishevelled, scared-looking women and three men into the room and made them stand in a row.

  Tarke strolled closer. “Who are they?”

  Commander Vayrel indicated the three Atlanteans. “These are the doctors who helped with the probe.” He motioned to a tall, golden-eyed man who held himself proudly. “Your wife’s brother, sir.”

  Tarke stopped in front of him. “Rawn.”

  “I -”

  The Shrike raised a hand in a curt gesture, silencing him. “I find it strange that you’re numbered amongst her betrayers.”

  “I didn’t betray her! My wife... did.” He glanced at a petite, doe-eyed woman. “But she didn’t mean to harm her.”

  “So you will all claim, just as Tallyn did, and the Atlantean Council will. No one will take responsibility for what’s happened. You’ll all shout your innocence with your dying breaths.”

  The prisoners blanched, and the petite woman beside Rawn whimpered and clung to his arm. Tarke faced her, and she stepped back. Rawn tried to shield her.

  The Shrike ignored him, addressing her. “And if she was dead, I would execute you if you were found guilty. Fortunately for you, she’s still alive, but she’ll probably never know it. I want to punish someone for her injury, but how can I? You wanted the reward for my death.”

  Tarke said to Rawn, “You were just bait.” He looked at the Atlantean doctors. “You were following orders, and the one who did the damage is already dead.” He paced along the row. “Yet between you, you’ve robbed an innocent girl of her life, trying to strike at me. You were all motivated by greed or hatred, and your plans have failed because she chose to die for me. Have any of you anything to say?”

  The oldest doctor said, “We would never have done it, had we known.”

  Tarke turned at the end of the row and walked back. “Ah. Hindsight is always so clear, isn’t it?”

  “I’d like to see my sister,” Rawn said.

  “No.”

  “What will you do with her?”

  “That’s a good question. I don’t know. Take her home. Care for her, I sup
pose. What else can I do? Try to cure her, of course, but that’s a foolish hope, I would think.”

  The Shrike stopped in front of Rawn’s wife again. “But you, more than any other, are responsible for what happened. Yet you won’t accept the blame, will you? No. You never intended to harm her. No one did. But with all these good intentions, she’s still in a coma.” He turned away. “Damn you all.”

  “You’re the reason it happened,” Rawn said. “They were trying to capture you. You could have saved her.”

  The Shrike swung back. “Could I?” His voice became dangerously soft. “By offering to give myself up, yes. I did that. By warning them of the danger, yes, I did that too. How else?”

  “By not showing her your face. By leaving her alone!”

  “In a stinking cesspool of a pleasure club, full of damned drugs. I tried to leave her alone. I did refuse to show her my face, and she would have died if I hadn’t taken her from that life. I gave her what she wanted. I gave her a life. I tried to protect her, and I failed. Does that make me guilty?

  “Because we dared to be together when all of you wanted me dead? If you hadn’t given her to the Atlanteans she’d be all right now. I tried to save her. Where were you when she needed you? Hating her empathy; finding happiness with your wife. But you forgot about your sister, didn’t you? If she’d been happy, I would have left her alone.”

  “What are you going to do with us?” Rawn asked.

  Tarke shrugged, turning away again. “Nothing. I wanted to see your faces, to know the people who did this to her. If she dies, so will you. So will millions of Atlanteans. My vengeance is not meted out in small amounts. It will be profound, or it will be nothing. Remember that. If I really was the monster you all think I am, I’d have you killed anyway. But then, if I was that monster, do you think the Golden Child would have loved me enough to die for me?”

  The Shrike headed for the door, leaving the prisoners staring after him, his last words echoing in their minds, he hoped.