Slave Empire III - The Shrike (14 page)

“I had to
protect you...”

“No!” He
frowned. “Not if it costs you your life. Promise me.”

“Only if you
promise me that you won’t go on a crazed killing spree and get
yourself, and your people, killed.”

“I swore an
oath.”

“Then unswear
it,” she said. “You’re responsible for too much good, and too many
people depend on you. You can’t throw away your life because of me.
Promise me, Tarke.”

He tilted his
head, his eyes sliding away. “Very well.”

“Then I
promise, too.”

“Good.” He
released her and ran a hand through his hair. “I think it’s time we
went home.”

She sighed. “I
wish we could stay here forever. Just the two of us.”

You may,
Scrysalza’s soft thought came, brushing against Rayne’s mind. She
smiled and replied that they must return to the outside world,
which required them. They would return if it visited them again,
though, and welcome it. The ship’s sigh of regret wafted through
her mind. It told her that it must return to its kin also, and it
wished a boon of her.

Anything,
Rayne answered.

My kin
suffer
.
They long to be free of the Envoys, as I am. They
rejoice in my freedom, but cannot join me in it. This saddens me.
Will you help them, as you did me?
A qualm went through Rayne,
and the Ship recoiled from it, soothing her with its gentle
presence. It assured her that she would not have to battle another
Envoy. Its kin had agreed to take on board many man-things if they
could kill the Envoys.

Rayne looked up
at Tarke, who had shared the communications, and he nodded.

“I’ll ask for
volunteers. Now we know that all they need to do is cut the blue
ganglion and the ships’ soldiers will be able to kill the Envoys.
In fact, if Scrysalza gives me a sample of its soldiers’ venom, I
can manufacture it and the men can inject it. My scientists might
be able to make it more potent, too.”

Scrysalza’s joy
blossomed in Rayne’s mind like a vast, bright bubble, and its
presence gambolled like a frisky foal as it promised to do this
simple thing.

“You must take
my men to your nebula,” Tarke continued aloud, allowing the ship to
read his thoughts. “Prepare your kin before you send my men into
their Envoy’s chamber. Tell them to bear the pain only for a short
time, and do all they can to prevent their soldiers from attacking
my men. Can you do this?”

Scrysalza
agreed with boundless enthusiasm, imparting its joy to them in
waves of euphoria that made Rayne giggle.

“When your kin
is free,” Tarke went on, “you must bring my men home to me.”

It would, the
ship promised. They would be honoured guests, just like Rayne and
Tarke.

Rayne frowned
as a doubt intruded. “They’ll have to be powerful telepaths with
mental shields as strong as yours to withstand the ships’
pain.”

“I’ll choose
good men with strong mind shields, but they don’t have to be as
good as me. If my scientists can manufacture a powerful venom and
they inject it in a large amount, they need only then cut the
ganglion and Scrysalza can transfer them out. I’ll have my people
work on a weapon to deliver the poison quickly.”

“They’ll
suffer,” she pointed out.

“They’re not
strangers to pain, and they’ll be doing what they love best,
freeing slaves. Many will come forward to do it, you’ll see. You’ll
have to allow them to communicate with you, Scrysalza,” he informed
the ship. “I think you must come to my world so we can prepare
them, and you.”

Scrysalza
agreed, a little of its joy ebbing away, but, still buoyed by
happiness, it continued to gambol. A glitter drew Rayne’s eyes to a
crystal flask that sprouted from the moss beside her, filled with
amber fluid. When it was fully formed, she plucked it from its
slender stem and held it up to admire its hue.

My soldiers’
venom,
Scrysalza informed her, and Rayne thanked it.

Tarke rose and
collected his clothes from the crystal growth where he had hung
them, donned them and clipped on the mask. His retreat into the
safety of his anonymity saddened Rayne, but she hid it, reminding
herself of its necessity. She no longer resented the mask, since it
kept him safe, and found she was somewhat uneasy when he took it
off now.

Tarke put on
his grey coat and scooped her up, and she wound her arms around his
neck before asking Scrysalza to return them to Scimarin. The
Crystal Ship’s light engulfed them with its blinding brilliance,
and when it faded they stood on Scimarin’s bridge.

“Welcome back,
Tarke,” the ship said. “Rayne, it’s good to have you back.”

She smiled.
“Thank you.”

Tarke placed
her on his command seat and leant against a console, gazing out at
the seven black cruisers that surrounded Scimarin.

“What’s been
happening, Scimarin?” he enquired.

“After you
left, the Atlanteans continued to demand communications, which I
denied. Then the cruisers arrived, and, when Commander Drayva
asked, I informed him of your absence. He told the Atlanteans, and
all parties have been waiting ever since.”

“No
hostilities?”

“No. Commander
Drayva informed the Atlanteans of your reason for being here, and
they withdrew their objections to your presence.”

Tarke snorted.
“Only because Tallyn has no wish to start a fight with seven of my
cruisers.”

Rayne asked,
“How’s Rawn?”

“He’s well
enough. He got divorced five years ago. He asked to see you many
times, but I refused. I was angry. He was the reason you were
captured.”

“He didn’t
know.”

“I know.”

“I’d like to
see him.”

The Shrike
nodded. “Of course. Scimarin, inform Rawn of Rayne’s recovery and
invite him to Ironia. Inform my commanders of his visit. Contact
Vidan and tell him I’m returning, and order my escort to follow us
back to base.”

Rayne gazed at
the Crystal Ship that hung like a giant, blazing jewel in the inky
blackness, Atlan’s pearly orb visible beyond it. Scrysalza’s soft
presence brushed her thoughts, telling her it would follow her to
Tarke’s world. Rayne smiled, thinking about how much the Atlanteans
were going to miss the Ship’s presence. A veritable armada of
vessels circled the massive crystalline entity like drifting stars
in a miniature solar system, their occupants drinking in the glory
of the Ship.

“How long were
we here?” she asked.

“Scimarin?”
Tarke passed the question on.

“Seventeen
Atlantean days.”

Rayne frowned
at the formation of silver warships that faced them off Scimarin’s
starboard bow. “They obviously haven’t noticed that Scrysalza has
sent us back.”

“They can
remain ignorant,” Tarke said. “Set course for Ironia,
Scimarin.”

The stars moved
across the screens as Scimarin turned, Net energy crawling over
them.

The ship said,
“The Atlanteans are requesting communications.”

“I’ll just bet
they are,” Tarke said.

“I want to
speak to Tallyn,” Rayne said.

The Shrike
turned his head towards her and inclined it. “Scimarin, hold
position and allow communications with Commander Tallyn only.”

The space line
screen slid from its slot in front of the command chair where Rayne
sat, while Tarke remained to one side, out of sight. The black
screen filled with an image of Tallyn’s weary visage, and his
expression became incredulous.

Rayne smiled.
“Hello, Tallyn.”

“Rayne! You’re
awake. How...?”

“The Crystal
Ship healed me.”

“That’s...
wonderful.” He marshalled his expression. “The Council members will
be most pleased.”

“I’m so glad
for them, since they’re the ones who almost killed me.”

“That was
unintentional. No one wanted to harm you. We were greatly saddened.
Atlanteans prayed for your recovery.”

“How kind of
them,” she said.

“The Council’s
mishandling of your safety angered a great many people. There were
protests. The Council has banned any further attempt to probe you.
It won’t happen again.”

“I want a
complete amnesty for the Shrike.”

He hesitated,
frowning. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. His crimes are too
great.”

She leant
forward. “Did you get a fright when the Ship returned? Did you
perhaps think it might be another Envoy, come to finish the
job?”

“There were
concerns.”

“And if it had
been another Envoy, I wouldn’t have been able to help you, because
of what you did to me, would I?”

He inclined his
head. “We did consider that, yes.”

“Unless the
Shrike receives a full pardon, I won’t help Atlan if another Envoy
comes.”

“The prophecy
only predicted one.”

“Maybe it
didn’t see far enough into the future.”

Tallyn looked
uncomfortable. “You should discuss this with the Council. I have no
authority to grant pardons on its behalf, but I don’t think the
Shrike will get one, no matter what you threaten.”

She sat back.
“Then they’d better hope no more Envoys come.”

“I’ll inform
them of your request.”

Rayne glanced
at Tarke, and the space line screen slid back into its slot as
Tallyn’s image vanished from it.

Tarke shook his
head, unclipping his mask. “I could have told you that wouldn’t
work.”

Chapter Seven

As Scimarin set
off for Ironia, Tarke carried Rayne into the cabin and placed her
on the bed, then sat beside her until she fell asleep. Switching
the sleep inducer on, he returned to the bridge and settled into
his command chair. Rayne’s recovery suffused his heart with strange
warmth, and it seemed bigger somehow, filling his chest. She was
going to have a tough time with him, he knew, and he was sure she
had no idea what she had taken on. He would find ways to make her
happy, even if it meant trying to overcoming his deeply ingrained
aversions. It would be worth it. Never before had his happiness
depended on another, but then, he did not recall being happy since
he had been stolen from his world.

The flight to
Ironia took nine hours, and he had eaten, bathed and donned fresh
clothes by the time Scimarin reached the base. He woke Rayne, who
smiled and sighed, stretching.

“We’re almost
home,” he informed her. “Do you want a bath and a meal before we
land?”

“Absolutely,
and some fresh clothes.”

He glanced at
her white dress. “I’ll have Scimarin make you another gown.”

“A coverall
would be better.”

“I’d like you
to wear a gown like this one. My people saw you leave in it. I
think it would be fitting for you to return dressed the same
way.”

She looked a
little perplexed, but shrugged. “Okay.”

By the time
Scimarin descended into the massive dome, she had bathed, donned a
fresh dress and consumed a meal. As the dome doors rumbled shut and
the atmosphere cycled in, people poured into the dome to surround
the ship.

Tarke said,
“Vidan has informed them of your recovery. Look how happy they
are.”

The crowd
exuded joy in warm emotional waves that made her smile and her
heart ache. The Shrike clipped on his mask and pulled on his
gloves, then picked her up and carried her to the door, which
opened ahead of them, the steps gliding out.

The throng
cheered as the Shrike descended the steps. Rayne gasped at the
overwhelming elation that washed over her, and smiled and waved.
Senior commanders who stood at the forefront of the crowd, wearing
broad smiles, bowed as the Shrike strode past.

Before they
reached the glass-walled office at the far side of the hangar,
Tarke stopped and turned to face the crowd. A complete hush fell,
and his soft voice carried in the stillness.

“I declare a
holiday, to celebrate my wife’s recovery. Go and enjoy
yourselves.”

More jubilant
cheering greeted his proclamation, and he acknowledged their
accolade with a nod before marching out. As he passed the
glass-walled office, Vidan trotted in through the door beyond it,
grinning. He puffed up to them, his eyes fixed on Rayne, who
giggled at his expression.

Tarke halted
again as Vidan took her hands and kissed the back of each one.
“Rayne. It’s so good to see you awake. I’m so glad. It’s a
miracle.” Tears filled his eyes, and he rubbed them, glancing up at
Tarke. “I thought this fool was going to go stark raving bonkers.
How are you? Is there something wrong with your legs, or will he
just not put you down?”

She giggled
again. “A little of both.”

“He’s told you
at last.”

“Yes.”

“Good, it’s
about time. It’s so great to have you back.” He patted her hands
and stepped aside. “Welcome back, Tarke. It’s good to see you
smiling again.”

The Shrike
snorted and headed for the door. “Thanks. Warn the Shadow Wing to
expect an unusual visitor. It will be joining us for a while,
although I’m not sure where it’s going to appear.”

Vidan trotted
beside him. “Who are we expecting?”

“The Crystal
Ship.”

Vidan’s eyes
widened. “But -”

“There’s no
Envoy. It’s just the Ship. It healed Rayne.”

“Well yes, I
can see that. Why is it coming here?”

“It needs our
help.”

“With
what?”

The Shrike
entered a luxurious lounge and placed Rayne on a chair beside a low
glass table. “The other ships and their Envoys. I’ll address the
men myself tomorrow, to ask for volunteers.”

“Well you know
they’re all going to volunteer, especially if you ask them.”

“I know, but
it’s a risky mission. I want to explain it to them first.”

Vidan nodded.
“Yes, good idea. That will put exactly none of them off, since
they’d all die for you. When will the Crystal Ship be
arriving?”