Slave Empire III - The Shrike (16 page)

“...It’s all
right. You’re safe now... There’s no need to be afraid... No one
will harm you... You’re free...”

A few women
wept, and Rayne’s eyes stung. The matrons handed out blankets and
cups of a hot beverage or soup. Tarke stood like a statue, but she
knew he watched them, too.

He asked, “Seen
enough?”

“Just a little
longer.”

Rayne noticed
that the men who stood around the walls wore expressions of deep
sadness mingled with joy, and many cast Tarke warm looks. The
mixture of sorrow, joy and love in the hangar was almost
overwhelming, and she raised a hand to brush away a tear.

As the last few
women emerged from the shuttle, one of the matrons raised her hands
to draw their attention.

“The Shrike has
freed you. Stardust addicts may choose to go to his base on the
Serian Moon, where you’ll join a community of others like you.
There you’ll be given homes, clothes and jobs manufacturing
Stardust to support your addiction. This is a choice, not a
requirement. If you wish to go back to your homes and families,
you’ll be taken there. Non-addicts may choose between three of the
Shrike’s other bases, which have room for you. You’ll be given
homes and jobs, if you want jobs, or you can go back to your home
worlds. You have a day to decide.”

The slave women
murmured, and some smiled. A few glanced in Tarke’s direction.
Rayne wondered what drew their attention to him, since he stood
unobtrusively in the shadows. Perhaps it was the gap in the crowd
in front of him, or simply his presence. A woman with golden skin
and midnight hair approached him, and the men who bordered the gap
in front of Tarke shuffled back. Some of them cast worried glances
at him, as if concerned about the woman’s intentions, but they were
perfectly clear to Rayne. If gratitude had been light, the slave
girl would have been a beacon. When she stopped two paces away from
the Shrike, however, he did seem a little tense. Rayne loosened her
hold on him to give him more room.

The woman’s
mouth worked, and then her face crumpled. Tears ran down her
cheeks, yet she did not take her eyes off the Shrike. He slowly
extended a hand, and she sobbed, stepping forward to clutch it and
press her lips to the silver symbol on the back of his glove.

“Thank you,”
she whispered, pressing her cheek to it, then she sank to her
knees, forcing him to bend as she clung to his hand. “Thank
you...”

Two matrons
hurried over to stand beside her, rub her back and murmur
comforting words. One tried to prise the woman’s hand from
Tarke’s.

“It’s okay, my
dear,” she said. “He doesn’t require thanks. It’s okay now.”

The slave woman
raised her head to gaze up at the Shrike. “But I want to, and he
deserves it.”

“He knows what
you feel. Come now.”

Tarke released
Rayne, who tottered, but a man standing just behind her gripped her
arm to support her. The Shrike took the woman’s hands and drew her
to her feet.

“Don’t kneel to
anyone ever again. You are free,” he said.

A sigh went
through the throng. Rayne gulped and blinked, aware that she was
trembling, and the man who supported her had taken a firmer grip on
her arm.

The slave girl
released his hand and stepped back, gazing up at the mask as she
whispered, “You too...” She glanced around, understanding dawning
in her eyes, then back at Tarke, rubbing the tears from her cheeks.
“I wish to remain here. May I?”

He inclined his
head. “You are free to do as you please.”

The matrons
took the girl’s arms and tugged her away, allowing her to pause and
cast a final glance back at the Shrike.

“Thank
you.”

Tarke turned to
Rayne and nodded at the man who supported her, then scooped her up
and walked out. Rayne twined her arms around his neck as he carried
her back to her apartment and placed her on a chair. Going over to
the drinks cabinet, he poured two glasses of juice and brought them
over, handed her one and sat on the chair beside hers.

“Are you
okay?”

She nodded,
taking a gulp of the drink. “That was amazing.”

“It must have
been intense for an empath.”

“Yes, it was.
But it was wonderful. So much love and gratitude.” She gazed at
him. “Will you take the mask off now?”

The door lock
light turned red as he unclipped the mask and pulled it off,
rubbing his face. He looked tired and sad, his eyes haunted. “Now
you know why I don’t like being there.”

“Too many
memories?”

“Too much
gratitude.”

“But she’s
right. You do deserve it.”

He shook his
head, looking at his hands. “I only do what’s right. What any
decent person ought to do.”

“But there are
few decent people in a position to help them, it seems. You can,
and you do. It’s no wonder your people love you so much.” She
sighed, gazing at her drink. “I feel like an outsider.”

“How so?”

“I’m the only
person who doesn’t wear a slave collar. I was never really a slave.
A few hours don’t count.”

“You think that
matters to me?”

“How do you
feel about it?”

He raised his
head to look at her. “I’m glad. I’m proud that you’re a free
woman.”

“You’re free
too.”

He shook his
head. “I’m an ex-slave. It’s a stigma I’ll carry to my grave, along
with the damned collar.”

“Are you
ashamed?”

“No. Are
you?”

“Of you?” She
snorted, frowning. “No. I’m a little ashamed of being a free woman,
unable to share your people’s camaraderie. They’ve made me welcome,
but don’t you think they might resent me a little?”

“No. It’s not
your fault you were lucky enough to escape that fate.”

“Thanks to
you.”

“You could
easily have been like them, and they don’t resent the fact that
you’re not. You’ve suffered too, and they know it. After what you
did to protect me, they love you too.” He sipped his drink,
frowning at it. “You’d have been made into a pleasure slave, and
then you’d have been as damaged as me. At least one of us is still
sane.”

“You’re sane.
You just...”

The door
buzzed, and he put down his drink, pick up the mask and clipped it
on. The door lock turned green, and it opened to admit Vidan, who
came to stand beside Tarke’s chair.

“The Crystal
Ship has arrived. It’s in a distant orbit, beyond the moons.”

Tarke nodded.
“Okay.”

“Also, Rayne’s
brother is here, and very keen to see his sister.”

“Of course.”
Tarke rose to his feet and said to Rayne, “I’ll leave you to talk
then.”

“Wait.” She sat
up. “I want you to stay.”

The Shrike
hesitated, and Vidan shot him an inscrutable look, but Rayne sensed
his concern.

“I don’t think
I should, and you two have lots to discuss,” Tarke said.

“Please, just
for a little while.”

“Why?”

“I want you to
meet him, and for him to meet you.”

Tarke shook his
head. “It will just cause tension.”

“Please?”

He sighed and
wandered towards the far wall. “Show him in.”

Vidan opened
the door, revealing Rawn standing outside, flanked by two guards.
His expression was shuttered, and he entered at Vidan’s gesture.
The Atlantean left as Rawn grinned and hurried over to Rayne.

“Ray! You’re
okay! It’s really true!”

Rayne smiled up
at him, holding out her arms, and he swept her into an embrace that
made her squeak. Tarke turned his head, then stalked closer, his
posture unfriendly.

“Go easy big
brother,” she admonished. “Don’t squash the life out of me.”

Rawn held her
away to inspect her. “I don’t believe it. I thought I’d never see
you again. I wanted to, but...”

“I know.”

Rawn released
her, and she collapsed onto the chair as her legs gave way. He
looked concerned and contrite. “Hey, are you okay?”

“She’s been in
a coma for five years. She can’t walk yet,” Tarke said.

Rawn whipped
around. “Shit... Sorry.”

“You should be
more careful.”

“I will. I
didn’t know. Sorry, Ray.”

“It’s okay,”
she said. “He’s just way overprotective. I’m not made of glass,
even though he treats me like I am.”

Rawn sidled
away from the Shrike and moved to the opposite side of Rayne’s
chair, where he pulled up another for himself. Rayne smiled at
Tarke and patted the sofa beside her.

“Relax,
husband, come and sit. You’re making the place look untidy.”

Tarke settled
on the couch opposite instead, and she sighed, saying to Rawn, “I’d
like you to meet my husband, the Shrike.”

“Oh, I know who
he is, and we’ve met before.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, right
after you fell into the coma. His men rounded up everyone involved,
including me. I thought we were all dead for sure.” He frowned at
Tarke. “But I could just as easily blame him. You were taken
because of him.”

Tarke turned
his head towards Rawn, and the tension rose.

Rawn continued,
“According to the Atlanteans, he married you to gain status and
possibly a pardon for his crimes. They even say you might have been
forced into it.”

She frowned.
“And you believed them?”

“I didn’t know
what to believe. He’s a slaver, and I couldn’t understand why you
would want to marry him, otherwise. I know he helped you with the
Envoy, but you hardly knew him. It made sense.”

“No, it
doesn’t. He doesn’t need any more status, even if marrying me had
given him any, which I don’t believe it did. Atlan will never
pardon him, and he knows it.”

Tarke stood up.
“I have business to attend to. I’ll return later.”

She looked up
at him. “Shrike...”

“It’s okay. I’m
not going far.”

Rayne bit her
lip as he strode out.

Rawn took her
hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

She forced a
smile. “Nothing, really. I’m just being silly.”

“What do you
mean? You look so worried.”

“I just... hate
to be apart from him. He...” She shook her head. “I’m afraid to let
him out of my sight, in case something happens to him. Silly,
really.”

“Nothing’s
going to happen to him here. This place is a fortress.”

“I know. So
what have you been doing for the last five years?”

Rawn launched
into a detailed description of his messy divorce and subsequent
single life, and she wished she had more news of her own to share
with him. All she had to offer was a much abbreviated account of
her time aboard the Crystal Ship, although he listened raptly and
did not comment on the gaps in it.

The Shrike
entered the general assembly room, where the men who had answered
his call for volunteers waited. About five hundred officers and
crewmen stood in orderly rows, at ease, their hands clasped behind
their backs. They were, he calculated, the entire complement of all
the ships currently at the base, plus many of his ground crews.
Tarke stopped in front of a large vidscreen that displayed a
live-feed image of the Crystal Ship hanging in deep space like a
glowing jewel, its giant wings of luminous crystal flashing in the
sunlight. Many men gazed at it, which pleased him. He wanted them
to see the entity whose kin they were going to save.

He indicated
the screen. “Some of you have seen the Crystal Ship before. It’s
the reason I asked you to come here today. The Golden Child killed
the Envoy this ship carried, and it’s a gentle being. There are
many crystal ships in the distant nebula where they dwell, and
they’re all enslaved.”

A wave of
muttering went through the assembly, and many men scowled.

Tarke said,
“Every ship carries an Envoy, and they’re forced to house and feed
these beings. But worse, the Envoys feed on pain, and force the
ships to inflict it on others by inflicting it on them. We all know
about pain.”

The men
shifted, and Tarke continued, “This ship has asked for our help. It
asked the Golden Child, but she can’t. Her battle with the Envoy
almost destroyed her mind. I won’t allow her to do it again. Next
time it will kill her.”

The men shook
their heads, and Tarke went on, “I want to help them, and I’m
asking you, my brothers, to volunteer for this mission.”

Every man
stepped forward in unison, and Tarke said, “Before you make up your
minds...” He paused as chuckling came from the ranks. “I must tell
you that it will be very dangerous. When an Envoy is attacked, it
inflicts pain on the ship, which broadcasts it. The ships are
powerful telepaths, and only those of you who are also powerful
telepaths with excellent mental shields will be considered. Anyone
else will succumb. Those of you who aren’t good telepaths, step
back.”

About half the
men did so, with obvious reluctance. Tarke inclined his head and
clasped his hands behind his back. “Now the rest of you who don’t
qualify can also step back.”

Half of the
rest retreated, being nudged by their fellows, and a few chuckles
arose. Tarke studied the remainder. “Those of you who are married,
step back.”

With a growl of
annoyance, half of the remaining men obeyed.

Tarke said,
“This is dangerous. Some of you may not survive. Our scientists
have formulated a powerful form of the Ship’s venom, which its
soldiers use to defend it. It’s a weird and wonderful place on
board one of these creatures, and you must remember that it’s a
living being. It will communicate telepathically with you while
you’re on board, so be prepared, its thoughts are quite alien.

“You’ll be
armed with projectile weapons to inject the venom into the Envoy.
As soon as you’ve done that, you must dive under the Envoy, which
lies in a sort of sea, and cut a blue ganglion, which is how it
controls the ship. If you don’t do this, the Envoy will kill the
ship, and speed is essential. You’ll be well equipped, but it will
still be very dangerous.”