“Go ahead, sir.”
Tarke faced the main screen. “My people.” He paused for several seconds. “All my ships. You have gone far beyond anything I could, or would, ever have asked of you; especially those who came here in unarmed vessels, willing to sacrifice yourselves. I am proud to be the one you have chosen to lead you. Better, braver comrades do not exist anywhere in the galaxy. I grieve for those who lost their lives today, and their names will be inscribed on the Wall of Remembrance on Ironia. They… and their sacrifice… will never be forgotten. I am forever indebted to you… all of you… I thank you.”
Tarke clasped his right wrist and held it out, and a collective indrawn breath went around the bridge, but no one turned their back on him. He turned and limped towards the bridge door, and several crewmen surreptitiously wiped their eyes.
“Dalreen,” Jargan said. “A moment, please.”
Tarke turned to her. “Of course, Commander.”
“I just want to say, on behalf of all of us, how glad we are that you’re alive. Every man and woman came here willingly, and those who died are heroes to the rest of us.”
Tarke inclined his head. “As they are to me, Jargan.”
“We accept the tribute from you on this day, but never again. We’re still forever in your debt, Dalreen.”
The Shrike glanced around the bridge, and the crewmen nodded, some smiling.
Jargan said, “I would also like to show you something.”
“Go ahead.”
Jargan signalled to a crewman, and the image on the main screen changed to one of Atlan. The huge hole remained in the clouds, and, through it, immense scars were visible on the planet’s surface. Deep chasms had been torn in the crust, some glinting with water in their depths. A crystal spear crushed thousands of kilometres of forest, and smaller shattered shards, all the size of cities, glittered in the sun.
Jargan looked at him. “Atlan will never forget the day they made the mistake of trying to kill the Shrike.”
“Indeed, Commander. Neither will I.”
“It’s a miracle that the Crystal Ship came to your aid, Dalreen.”
Tarke shook his head. “It did so, Commander, because we came to its aid, without expecting anything in return. That’s how it’s supposed to work, and if everyone helped those in need, no one would ever be in need.”
“Just as you did for us, and still do.”
“I only do what’s right.”
“And we love you for it, Dalreen.”
“Commander, stop embarrassing me. I must go to the hospital.”
“Of course, sir.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling.
Tarke left the bridge, and Rayne followed. The love that radiated from the bridge crew suffused her heart, and she supposed that it was a good thing Tarke was not an empath. Massive guilt also burdened her spirit. Tarke’s people had died coming to his rescue because of her foolishness. If not for her, he would never have put himself in danger. The burden was a heavy one, and now, she guessed, they would follow him everywhere to keep him safe. She was sure this was not something he wanted, although he probably understood it, just as she did. As she traversed an outer corridor, she sensed the brush of a shy alien mind and stopped, going to the nearest screen to gaze out at the six crystal ships.
“Scrysalza,” she whispered.
The Ship seemed tired, but content. Its presence buoyed her spirit with pride and joy. It was glad it had been able to help them, and repay some of the great debt it and its kin owed to Tarke for sending the man-things to rid them of the Envoys. It still owed more gratitude, because six of the man-things who had helped the ships had died, hence, six ships had answered her call. Next time, there would be five, and the next, four, until the debt was repaid. After that, Scrysalza alone would answer, because Rayne was its friend. Rayne’s heart swelled with happiness, and more tears ran down her cheeks. She seemed to be an endless font of them today. The Crystal Ship’s gentle mind soothed her sorrow.
I’m so sorry you had to suffer, Rayne thought. Will you be all right?
I will recover, the ship said. My wings will grow back, in time. It is a small sacrifice for the life of the one who freed me. That is a debt that can never be repaid.
You have my undying gratitude, and Tarke thanks you, too, Rayne said, aware of him beside her. The Ship imparted soft greetings and joy at Tarke’s continued life, and told her it needed to rest for a while before it returned to its home. Its kin would remain with it, and leave when it did. It mourned the death of the people it had killed, for it hated to harm others, but it had chosen its friend over those who would kill him, and was glad of it.
If only they had not wanted to kill him, Rayne thought, they would not have had to die.
Those who choose the path of death will reap it in the end, the ship replied, and Rayne agreed. The delicate mind touch drifted away, and she turned to Tarke, wiping her cheeks.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “A bit sad, is all.”
He took her hand. “Come, let’s get me patched up so we can go home.”
“Aren’t we already on the way home?”
“Yeah. We can go back to Shadowen, though, or Scimarin.”
Rayne was happy with that idea, for she longed to be alone with him. The doctors tended to Tarke immediately, putting him under a sleep inducer while they treated his wounds and put fresh dressings on them, and within an hour Rayne and Tarke were aboard Shadowen. He stripped off his mask and gloves and leant against a console, drew her close and enfolded her in his arms. She hugged him, pressed her cheek to his chest and listened to his heartbeat, and he rested his cheek on her hair. It seemed like an hour that she clung to him, never wanting to be parted from him again. When at last he released her, Rayne squeezed past him to fetch drinks. She handed him a fizzy drell juice and settled on her chair, sipping her green munga juice. The flotilla of black warships was visible through the crawling golden fire, as well as an occasional space-scarred freighter and sleek pleasure yacht. It did not surprise her that every one of Tarke’s people who could find a ship had come to his aid, but it did fill her with awe and a deep sense of inadequacy. How could she ever compete with the love of millions?
“You don’t have to,” Tarke said.
“You said you’d stop doing that.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Am I shouting again?”
“You always do.” He smiled. “I’ll just have to build stronger shields.”
She looked down. “I’m the reason so many of your people -”
“No. Don’t go there, Rayne. They came to my rescue, not yours. Yes, I came to yours, and was stupid enough to get caught. It wasn’t you, it was me, okay?”
“They would have, though, if you hadn’t, wouldn’t they?”
He sighed. “Yes. But they didn’t, because I did, so don’t feel guilty.”
“So you have to bear the guilt alone? That’s not fair.”
“I can handle it. It’s not the first time some of them have died for me, although this is the worst loss. It’s one of the burdens I have to bear for being their Dalreen. I understand them, so I probably don’t feel as guilty about it as you do. I’m proud of them, and they’re proud of themselves. They achieved something important today. They took on the greatest empire in the galaxy, and won. They saved their Dalreen. For an ex-slave, that’s a huge deal. They’ll be toasting this day for centuries to come. I’ll celebrate it with them. I won’t sully their pride with self-recrimination for something they chose to do of their own free wills. Jargan was extremely careful to make it clear that none of them blames me for what happened, so I won’t. I’ll blame the Atlanteans, like they do.”
Rayne nodded and sipped her drink, and silence fell. She thought about the amazing event that had just taken place, remembering Tarke stretched out on the execution block, which, she was convinced, was burnt into her memory forever. She tried to imagine what it must have been like for him, lying there with the executioner standing over him, bl
ade poised, in the instant before Scrysalza had appeared. Tarke had called her name telepathically, and she had heard his voice in her mind for the first time. It had been a whisper, full of sorrow, since he had had to lower his shields to contact her.
Rayne had sensed only love mixed with his sorrow; not even fear, and his words of farewell had broken her heart. She relived the entire experience in vivid detail, hardly aware of sipping her drink. Tarke must have been lost in recollections too, for silence reigned for a long time. When her glass became empty he brought them fresh drinks, and she thanked him absently. It still seemed unreal, and she knew it would take a while for the enormity of what had happened, and what had almost happened, to sink in. His voice roused her from her reverie, and she focussed on him, aware that a lot of time had passed.
“Hmmm?”
“Did you find a solution to your problem on your… sabbatical?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think there is a solution to it.”
“Because I’m the problem, aren’t I? My past.”
“No. It’s me. You didn’t have a problem until I came along. You were fine. You had a solution that worked for you and you’d have been happy like that if you’d never met me, so -”
“Rayne…”
“So I’m the problem, and -”
“Rayne. Stop it. You’re not the problem. It was me all along, and I put you through hell. I wasn’t happy before I met you. Now I want what you want, for there to be no more barriers between us.”
“You’ve been reading my mind again.”
“Yeah, I know, I’m rude and sneaky.” He paused, his eyes distant. “I made a decision when I was lying on that execution block, waiting to die. I decided to trust you. I wanted to before, but… I didn’t know how to overcome my own barriers. After sixty-seven years of pain, subjugation, humiliation and indescribable terror, I couldn’t bring myself to trust people. Not even you. That was a mistake, and the reason I reacted like I did, that night. The only way to stop my reflexes was to decide to trust you. Of course, when I did it, it also didn’t matter, since I was about to die. That’s what it took to make me do it. That’s how stupid and stubborn I am.
“Before you fell into the coma, I was too afraid to even tell you how I felt. I thought it would make things worse because then you would want more and I had no more to give. Then I spent five years without you, and I realised just how much I loved you. Even so, my reactions didn’t change and that still scared me. After they freed me from the execution block, I just wanted to hold you. And I had no wish to let you go.” He raised his eyes and met her gaze.
She swallowed a lump, hardly daring to believe him.
He held out a hand. “Come here.”
Rayne rose to her feet, and he drew her close, raising his hands to brush aside her fringe and trace the contours of her cheeks. Her breath caught in anticipation, mixed with trepidation, as his eyes roamed over her face. He tilted his head, his eyes intent, and the bridge lights dimmed. The intense allure he exuded made the pit of her stomach tremble. He leant closer, and his breath fanned her cheek.
“It’s okay,” he whispered.
Rayne closed her eyes as his lips brushed hers in a feather-light caress. He paused for a moment, then captured her mouth firmly. Her longing to hold him made her reach for him involuntarily, but she caught herself and lowered her hands. His was a special kind of magic, one against which she had no defence; he captivated her the moment he touched her. Perhaps it was because he was untouchable, and they shared something so rare. His magnetism drew her to him, and she had no wish to escape it. She wondered if it was an Antian thing or a Tarke thing, deciding that it was probably a bit of both, but more of a Tarke thing. He took hold of her hands and placed them on his neck, allowing her to run her fingers into the short hair behind his ears. She became aware that his hands trembled, but then, so did hers.
Once more her eyes overflowed at the poignant beauty of this moment, when an untouchable wanted her to hold him. He had suffered so much and was loved by so many, but only she had the privilege of sharing his life and knowing his secrets, or, at least, some of them. This time, it seemed, she was having as much effect on him as he was on her, and she sensed no aversion to her proximity in the emotions he allowed through his shields. She wanted to drag him into the cabin and rip off all his clothes, and for him to rip off hers and make wild, passionate love to her.
Tarke laughed, which spoilt everything, and she cursed her truant thoughts and him for reading them. He rested his cheek against hers, chuckling, and she heaved a sigh of regret. He raised his head and held her away, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He smiled, his eyes sparkling.
She brushed tears from her cheeks. “That was definitely illegal.”
“So you don’t mind seconds, even though you said once was enough?”
“It was even worse.”
“No more, then.”
She shook her head. “Definitely not. I couldn’t handle another.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Awful.”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
His smile faded. “Rayne… To me, this is a miracle. I had resigned myself to a lifetime of cold dispassion, dedicating my life to helping others so they might find happiness, without ever hoping for it myself. Until that amazing day when you touched my hand and it didn’t bother me as much as it should have. I couldn’t say no to you, and, as if that wasn’t bad enough, I had this overwhelming urge to save you from whatever threatened you, and yourself. Even to the extent of marrying you when I had no idea how I was going to deal with it. I just knew that I wanted you close to me, and I… wanted to touch you, which was the most bizarre thing of all.”
“And now you want me to touch you, too.”
He nodded. “Unheard-of, for an untouchable. I always did, deep down; I just couldn’t allow it. But I’ve almost lost you three times already, twice before I had even tried to get closer to you, and this last time I thought I’d never get another chance.”
“I guess you’re going to put that leash on Shadowen for real, this time.”
“No. I have a particularly large hang up about freedom, as you can imagine. You may go where you want, although I do ask that you stay away from Atlan. I’ll just keep coming to rescue you, even if I don’t succeed. I’m not much good at rescuing my damsel when she’s in distress, it seems. I’ve failed twice.” He smiled. “Three times, if you count the Draycon ship. I even ended up needing to be rescued myself, by the damsel in question, to my utter shame.”
She giggled and shook her head. “I’m never going anywhere near Atlan again.”
“Good.”
“And you haven’t done such a bad job. You saved me from the store guards and the Draycon ship on Earth, and then from slavery, and on the Crystal Ship, and again from the drugs. I just get into trouble a lot, but you’ve been there every time I’ve needed you.”
His smile broadened. “Lucky for me you have a good memory.”
“Like an elephant.”
“A what?”
“Never mind.”
Tarke cocked his head, looking puzzled. “Did you say I saved you from the Draycon ship on Earth?”
“Yeah. You didn’t even know you did it. Endrix told me. You chased away a ship that was bombarding a house, didn’t you?”
“Yeah…”
“I was in that house,” she said. “In the basement.”
“Huh. I wondered why it was doing that. It moved off when I approached, and I fired a couple of warning shots past it.”
“So, you were my guardian without even knowing it.”
“And now all your fantasies can come true.”
“I’ll make sure they do, and I hope you have some, too.”
He laughed and looked away, and she was convinced that he was blushing, which struck her as endearing and incongruous for a one hundred and thirty-six-year-old man.
She smiled. “Shadowen, brighten lights.
”
“No,” Tarke said.
The lights pulsed and remained dim. Rayne glared around in mock anger. “Hey! Whose ship are you?”
The lights brightened, but Tarke covered her eyes. By the time she prised his hands away, he had regained his aplomb. She was delighted to discover that a little flirtation could evince such a cute response from him now. Something had indeed changed. He seemed to have shed several layers of inhibition and relaxed by quite a few degrees. Although he had always had a wonderful sense of humour, she was now sure she had barely scratched the surface, and he had as yet unplumbed depths of character she longed to explore. She pulled him closer again, her heart aching with love for this strange, wonderful man. He tightened his hold and lifted her off her feet, turning his head to whisper against her cheek, “Is this close enough?”
“No. I’ll always want to be closer.”
“Ah, well I wish I could share my skin with you, but alas…” He lowered her to the floor, and she looked up at him.
“So what’s happened to all the shitty memories?”
“They’re still there, but now there’s something in front of them, blocking them. Something sweet and pure and tough as nails. It’s kind of pink and fluffy, and warm and clever… and it has a name.”
“Your favourite blankie?”
“Okay you’ve got to stop speaking in Earth riddles or I’ll have to get a dictionary.”
“Well, a blankie is -”
“Rayne… Her name is Rayne.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s cold wet stuff that falls from the sky on cloudy days.”
“Hey, try to keep up. I’m trying to be romantic.”
“If calling me pink and fluffy is your idea of romantic you’ve got a lot to learn, buster.”
He smiled and murmured, “Elloran leraan reyale erreth; dravoth, ren darellin raylar mayarin toth.”
“That’s more like, or it would be if I knew what it meant, but it sounds as sexy as all hell.”
“It means ‘you are the light that holds the darkness at bay, and everything I have ever done has led me to this day’.”
Rayne stared at him in astonishment. Although heavily accented, he had spoken in English. “Wow, you’ve really been studying those Earth data files, huh?”
Slave Empire III - The Shrike Page 27
