Rayne looked up in surprise as the door opened and the Shrike strode in, his coat spreading like wings behind him. He reached her in a few long strides, gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. The golden shimmer of the transfer Net engulfed them, then dispersed, and she staggered as he released her in a dim room. A curved screen gave a startling view of space, sprinkled with stars. In one corner, a space station rotated, glittering in the harsh light of a white dwarf star. Several ships orbited it, distant points of moving light. She seemed to be on the bridge of a small ship, judging by the lack of space and multitude of twinkling consoles that surrounded her. A contoured pilot’s chair faced the curved screens, flanked by consoles and vidscreens. She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on, but then he addressed the console beside him in an urgent tone.
“Scan the individual with me.”
A bland, sexless voice spoke from somewhere above her, making her jump. “The individual carries an Atlantean tag.”
The Shrike swung on her, making her retreat a step. “You’re tagged!”
“Tagged?”
“You’ve got a damned homing beacon in you somewhere! You didn’t know?”
“No!” She raised a hand to the spot above her left ear that had been the source of so many headaches.
“They implanted you, and didn’t tell you?”
“No. I don’t know. Did they?”
“How nice of them. Your heroes, the Atlanteans. They tagged you like a damned animal, so they could track you down wherever you went.”
She lowered her hand, stunned. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t, until a bloody Atlantean ship showed up in this sector, heading straight for Urquat’s station.” He turned away, his hands clenching. “I should have had you scanned; especially when I knew what you were.”
“What are you going to do?” A strange mixture of hope and anguish made her heart race.
“Do? How the bloody hell should I know? Urquat would have put you in a damned atomiser.”
Her knees shook, and she leant against a console. “You’re going to kill me?”
“I should,” he said. “I should jettison you and get the hell out of here.” His voice softened. “But I won’t. Shadowen, how long before the Atlanteans arrive?”
“Eleven minutes,” the sexless voice replied.
“Okay, link with the Net, set course for... Octovar One. Send a message to the Shadow Wing; tell them to return to base. The Atlanteans will follow us. We’ve got the bait.”
Rayne clutched the console behind her as space swung past the portals, the stars wheeling around before settling into new patterns. The station vanished, and a belt of stars filled the screens. As she tried to recognise their patterns, a web of snaky golden brilliance crawled over the screens. The Shrike stood in the shadows, facing a small screen on a bulkhead. After a moment, he nodded.
“Good, they’re following, and we’re pulling away. Their stress factors are much higher, due to the size of their ship, so we’re faster.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
He turned to her. “Nothing unpleasant. Octovar One is an Atlantean outpost, a law-abiding world with little military presence. I’ll get close enough to transfer you to the surface, then I’ll leave and you’ll be free. Your friends should pick you up within an hour or so. All you have to do is wait.”
“Is it safe for you? What if they set a trap for you?”
“I’ll elude them. I’ve done it many times before.” He faced the screen again. “I’m touched by your concern. I didn’t think you’d mind having my death on your conscience now you know the extent of my depravity.”
“I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”
“Believe what you saw. Your eyes don’t lie.”
“Then why are you helping me?”
“Helping you?” His rich, husky laugh was muffled by the mask. “I’m not helping you; I’m getting rid of you. All right, I could have jettisoned you, but that might not be such a good idea. You are, after all, the Golden Child, and I’ve explained why I’d rather not meddle in the possible future. Whether or not this Atlantean prophecy will ever come true is debateable, but I don’t believe in taking chances.” He motioned to a narrow corridor that led off the bridge. “Now, I’ll show you to a room where you can relax in solitude, since you don’t like my company.”
Rayne squeezed past and preceded him down the passage, aware of his presence close behind. A door slid open ahead, revealing a haven of soft light with luxurious grey and white décor. She entered a cosy sitting room with comfortable chairs and a low table, a well-stocked bar and an entertainment section. The Shrike paused in the doorway, then turned to go, but stopped when she called his name and faced her again.
“Who were you talking to on the bridge?” she asked.
“The ship.”
“This ship talks? What, did you use some poor man’s brain instead of a neural net?”
“It has a highly advanced bio-crystalline brain, and is capable of thinking for itself. It’s what I call a companion ship, which I can talk to when I’m alone.” He leant against the doorframe. “I’m currently building a second one, since this one is a little old now. A companion ship flies itself. I don’t have to link into a neural net and run the risk of having my brains fried.”
She stared at him, astounded, then forced herself to look away, resisting the urge to ask him more questions. “I see. Thank you.”
Tarke left, and the door shut, sealing her in the quiet room.
Slave Empire - Prophecy Page 45
