“The Shrike will not see you.”
Rayne was tired of hearing that declaration, in various forms, and gritted her teeth. She had been waiting on his base for two days. Tallyn’s smuggler friend, a middle-aged Atlantean with a scarred face and bad halitosis, had dropped her on Ironia before beating a hasty retreat, and she was glad to be away from his lecherous looks and smutty talk. He had kept his deal with Tallyn, however, and delivered her into Tarke’s territory. Now she faced an unexpected obstacle, one she was beginning to think was insurmountable.
Tarke would not see her, and nothing she said seemed to make any difference. Rayne glared at the black-clad woman, an ageing Erdorian whose rather sullen expression suited her office as bearer of bad news. Rayne recalled the unpleasant fourteen-hour journey she had endured. The smuggler had spent only four hours linked to the net before taking a six-hour nap. Mercifully, she had not been linked to a neural net, but now found herself barred on Tarke’s doorstep for her trouble.
“Does he give a reason, or is he just being bloody-minded?” she enquired.
“He’s not currently on this base,” was the tart reply.
“And is he planning to come here any time in the not too distant future?”
“I don’t know his plans.”
“All right.” Rayne forced a stiff smile. “Would you give him a message then?”
“Certainly.”
“Tell him I know what happened on Elliadaren.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rayne shrugged. “He’ll know.”
The woman snorted and spun on her heel, marching off down the corridor. Rayne watched her until she turned a corner, then decided to go for a walk in the garden in front of the building. Two guards kept an eye on her from the doorway. They followed her everywhere, and sometimes prevented her from entering certain areas. She was not being treated exactly as a prisoner, but that her host did not trust her was abundantly clear. She had been scanned upon arrival, and since then her keepers had treated her with deep suspicion. This time, she had her own clothes, and wore a dark blue one-piece suit that stood out amongst the monotony of black-clad people.
The guards shadowed her, laser rifles held across their chests. At first, she had thought the guns were meant for her, which seemed rather paranoid since she was unarmed, but now she suspected that the weapons were more for her protection. Several times, she had encountered people whose eyes had glinted murderously and whose glares had only been deterred by her guards’ hard-eyed presence. She had no idea what she had done to deserve their animosity; she had been studiously polite to everyone she met. These people, it seemed, were as strange as the man they served. She sighed and headed back towards her apartment.
The following morning, just as she finished dressing in a pale blue one-piece suit trimmed with grey, the apartment door chimed. She hurried to press the button that opened it, and found the two guards on her doorstep.
One stated in a gruff voice, “The Shrike will see you now.”
Rayne wondered if the thrill that raced down her spine at his words was terror or excitement, deciding it was probably a bit of both. She followed them along several uniform grey corridors at a brisk march before being whisked up several floors in a high-speed lift. It seemed that she was in the same building, but she was not sure, for the route was confusing and the scenery monotonous.
The guards stopped outside a door and stepped aside as the portal slid open. She took a deep breath and walked in with all the confidence she could muster. Most of it drained away at the sight of the tall masked man who stood facing a massive window. When he turned, her mouth dried and her knees turned to rubber. Her eyes flinched from the mask.
The Shrike indicated a chair with a gloved hand, and she sat on it. Four soft cream chairs were arranged around a low, polished red wood table in the centre of a plush room decorated in pale grey and soft blue. A bank of huge windows overlooked the gleaming white and green city. Tarke came over and sat opposite, the table between them.
“So, the frightened slave girl has now become what? An Atlantean messenger? A spy?” His soft voice made her shiver. “Few dare to seek me out, and even fewer have the temerity to come to one of my bases. What makes you so bold?”
She gulped, brave words dying on her tongue. Several seconds passed in silence, while she cursed her blank mind.
“What happened to Elliadaren?” he murmured.
“It was attacked... by an Envoy.” To her relief, his words kick-started her brain, and her voice was steady.
“Who told you that?”
“My guide, an entity called Endrix.”
“Go on.”
“I’ve been there. I’ve seen the remains of the crystal ship that carried the Envoy to your world.” Words tumbled off her tongue in a nervous flood. “Your people were suffering terribly when you found them. You were forced to kill them. There was nothing else you could do. The Envoy came from another universe. He fed on your people’s suffering. Another is coming to Atlan, and I have to stop him.”
The Shrike was silent for several moments, his emotions inscrutable. “I never had a name for the monster that tortured my people. What else do you know about this Envoy?”
“Not a lot. They’re patriarchal, cannibalistic and sadistic. He controls the crystal ship, and forces it to use its telepathic ability to inflict pain on his victims. He and his minions feed on the pain of others.”
“But you didn’t come here just to tell me this.”
“No. I need your help. Endrix told me to seek you out. He said you would help me.”
He tilted his head. “Why should I help you?”
“You don’t want the Atlanteans to fall. You said so yourself.”
“That’s true, which is why I killed Drevina and her brother.”
She gasped. “You did that?”
“I thought it would throw the Draycons into confusion long enough for this situation with you to blow over or resolve itself. Otherwise, they would have tried to interfere again, and next time they might have succeeded.”
Rayne stared at him, longing to tear off the ghastly mask. He seemed hostile, and she knew she trod on thin ice, for he could have her removed from his base any time he chose. She decided to be blunt. “Will you help me?”
“That depends. Who is this Endrix, and why did he tell you to come to me for help? What do I have that Atlan can’t offer?”
“I don’t know what, or who he is. I’ve never seen him. All I know is he’s in the huge black ship that can use the transfer Net to transport itself instantly. He saw what you did to Elliadaren. He understood why you did it, as I do. I saw it through his memories. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to be forced to make that kind of decision, and I’m sorry about what happened.”
He stood up, making her tense, but he only went back to the window. “That was a long time ago.”
“I’m sure the memories haven’t faded.”
“No, they haven’t. I knew they were all going to die, but to share in that wordless agony was a thing no one should have to endure. The silence that fell after the bombs exploded was like... paradise, after the torture of their pain.”
“You should have told the Atlanteans why you did it.”
He gave a soft snort. “Do you think they would have believed me?”
It all made terrible, tragic sense as the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “So you became a slaver, because you were already condemned to death, and nothing mattered anymore.”
“Don’t try to analyse me.” He turned to face her. “What do you want?”
“Endrix says I need a ship, and only one of yours will be good enough.”
He walked over to lean on the back of the chair beside her. “You want a ship? You expect me to just hand over a multi-million regal ship to you?” He laughed and shook his head. “You amaze me. Why don’t the Atlanteans give you one? It’s their necks you’re supposed to save, not mine.”
“If Atlan f
alls -”
“I know that. I told you, remember? Why must I give you a ship?”
“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 on 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. “That’s 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 went to the door and 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.
After she 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.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“I wouldn’t call Shadowen a ‘she’, if I was you,” he said. “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.”
Tarke 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 lasted for a few seconds, then the grey nothingness of 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 onto it. The Shrike stood beside her, his gloved hands clasped.
“Now you have a ship,” he said. “One that won’t allow a stranger to enter without your permission or any harm to 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. “Will he still be loyal to you as well?”
Tarke 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 back. “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 hard to believe.”
“The truth about you?”
“Yes.”
She sat 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 went 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 recalled 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 sat down on the chair next to hers, putting his drink on the table. “I’ll make it brief. I’m not a slaver.”
Rayne was stunned, but a lot of things made sense, and she realised Layalia had been telling the truth. Some things still confused her, however. “But... all the people here...”
“Are ex-slaves I’ve rescued. 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 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, 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 slavers has proven profitable, and at the same time I’ve been able to free coun
tless 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.”
“I do now,” she admitted. “Then I was too angry and confused. So why did you lie to me?”
“So you 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 tend to. Leave whenever you’re ready, and good luck.”
The Shrike strode to the door 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.
The ship’s 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.
*****
The story continues in Book II, The Crystal Ship, and Book III, The Shrike.
About the author
T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and moved to the Seychelles with her family when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa. T. C. Southwell has written over thirty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art.
All illustrations and cover designs by the author.
Contact the author at [email protected]
Acknowledgements
Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the years, and Vanessa Finaughty, best friend and former business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.
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