Slave Empire III - The Shrike (24 page)

Another boy
made a rude gesture at Tarke. “Stupid slave scum!”

Rayne cringed,
raising a hand to her mouth in shock. Many of the people who sat at
tables nearby frowned at the brewing confrontation, and a couple
spoke into tiny instruments on their cheeks. Tarke walked towards
the youths, who held their ground, raising their chins in unified
defiance. They were in their late teens, tall and gangly, some with
fuzz on their chins. Rayne suspected that the boys had just crossed
a line and were about to regret it.

Tarke cocked
his head. “You dare to speak those words on Rimon, freeman
filth?”

“You’re the
filth!” the youth shouted.

A quartet of
patrolmen hurried up to them, hands on the batons in their belts,
their eyes hard. They were all unmarked, and Rayne wondered if they
were freemen. Now the difference between the two cultures was clear
to her, and the conflict seemed about to escalate. The foremost
patrolman confronted the boy who rubbed his red ear.

“What’s going
on here?”

“He assaulted
me!” The boy pointed at Tarke.

The patrolman
turned to the Shrike, his eyes flicking up to Tarke’s mark.
“
Rashone
. Is this true?”

“They insulted
two
rasheer
.”

“Nevertheless,
a physical attack is more -”

Tarke raised a
hand. “You, too, appear to be sadly ignorant,
Drantoor
. This
is Rimon.”

“Where we don’t
tolerate violence. Did he touch you?”

“No.”

“Then he broke
no laws. We want no trouble.”

Tarke frowned
at the boys, who looked smug. “And yet, you’ve found trouble. Word
of this will reach the Shrike, and he’ll banish freemen from
Rimon.”

The patrolmen
shifted, and their leader looked uncomfortable. “Oh, I don’t think
he’ll do that. Not for such a slight infraction. These boys were
born here.”

“If I witnessed
this kind of disrespect after only a day on Rimon, it’s rife. He
won’t tolerate it. This world belongs to ex-slaves. Freemen don’t
belong here, especially that sort.”

“They’re just
young and foolish.”

“They’ll grow
up to be old and foolish.”

The patrolman
became brisk. “Kindly move along,
Rashone
. This incident is
over.”

Rayne thought
Tarke would continue the argument, but he returned to sit opposite
her again. The patrolmen shooed the youths away, one of whom made
another rude gesture in Tarke’s direction. The patrolmen tried to
grab him, but the group ran off, jeering.

Tarke said,
“This is only going to get worse as more freemen are born here.
It’s got to be stopped. Rimon is supposed to be a sanctuary. I
won’t have my people insulted.”

She sighed.
“You’re right, unfortunately.”

He studied her.
“I hope this hasn’t spoilt your day.”

“Does it mean
we have to rush back to Ironia?”

“No. No need
for that.” He gazed across the park, his eyes distant. “I’ve issued
the order. Tomorrow transports will arrive to remove all freemen
from this planet. They’ll be shipped to Ardon, a newly flora-formed
world. It’s pretty harsh, but they’ll manage.”

“There may be a
lot of freemen here who are perfectly respectful to ex-slaves, you
know. You can’t tar them all with the same brush.”

He shrugged and
sipped his
najab
. “Then they can apply for special
dispensation. I have nothing against respectful freemen.”

“What about
children?”

“First
generation is fine. It’s the children of freemen who are the
problem, I think. They weren’t raised by ex-slaves, so they have no
respect. If that sort of thing continues, it will foment trouble.
Sooner or later a
rashone
will kill one of those little
gits, and then there will be shit.”

“What about
their houses?”

He smiled.
“They don’t own any. Everything on this world, aside from the
people and their personal possessions, belongs to the Shrike.
Housing is free, and it will be on Ardon, too.”

“What about
their businesses?”

“They’ll be
compensated, and provided with the means to continue on Ardon.”

Rayne finished
her
najab
and sat back.

Tarke eyed her,
then polished off his own. “Shall we go?”

“Where to
now?”

“Wherever you
want.”

She considered.
“What’s Dreamish like?”

“Had enough of
Rimon already?”

“It’s a bit
tense. Vidan said Dreamish was nice.”

He nodded. “He
said it was a better place for a honeymoon, but he doesn’t know me
as well as he thinks; or as well as you do, now.”

“He knows
you’re untouchable, though, right?”

“He probably
suspects it.” He looked like he wanted to say more on the subject,
but then he sighed. “Dreamish is a pleasure world, where my people
go for holidays. There are fifteen bio-domes with beaches, palm
trees, casinos, sports clubs and fun parks. Every year, each
ex-slave gets a ticket to Dreamish for a month. Most don’t use it
every year, but the option’s there if they want it.”

“Wow. You
really look after them, don’t you?”

“They deserve
it. I don’t have to pay for it, though. Five bio-domes are set
aside for outsiders. Freemen, slavers, anyone who wants to relax
and have a good time. They pay, and that supports the rest of the
community.” He paused. “There are a few ex-slaves who... learnt to
enjoy what they did, and they earn a living there.”

She raised her
brows. “Pleasure slaves?”

“Yes. Of
course, the freemen and slavers think I own them.”

“Right.” She
frowned at her empty cup. “I’d like to see it. Not that part; the
part the ex-slaves use.”

“Then let’s
go.” He stood up and waited for her to precede him.

Back in the
apartment, she turned to him as the door closed. “Can we go as who
we are now? Torvark and Rellyn?”

He hesitated.
“Yes, although I’d rather not.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you
want to?”

“Because then
you won’t wear the mask.”

“Ah.” He
smiled, settling on the sofa. “You really have a huge bug up your
arse about that mask, don’t you?”

“It’s
horrible.”

“You prefer
this?” He indicated his mutilated-face disguise.

“Yes. At least
I can see your expression and look into one of your eyes when I’m
talking to you.”

“I suppose
so.”

“Why don’t you
want to?”

He sighed.
“It’s not like Rimon. Sure, there are untouchables there, but the
mark doesn’t protect us like it does here. We’d have to go to
Roshnar, which is the bio-dome where untouchables go.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know
that you’d enjoy it, though. It’s populated exclusively with
untouchables. No one with less than a two-thirds mark can go there.
Many live there. It’s where the really bad cases are.”

“I thought you
were a really bad case.”

“I am.” A faint
smile curved his lips. “You’re seeing a good side of me, because I
want you around. In Roshnar, you can’t be a
mertaan
; they
don’t go there. Us being together would be more than odd; it would
be... unacceptable.”

“Then let’s go
somewhere else. Why did you even suggest it?”

“Because
solid-mark untouchables don’t go anywhere else on Dreamish. I’d
have to be a two-third, and that has its risks.”

“You’d either
have to accept male or female advances.”

He nodded.
“Yes.”

“Would being
friendly to men be so bad?”

“If they touch
me, yes.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “Don’t even
suggest the alternative.”

She sat beside
him. “But... surely a two-thirds mark is untouchable too?”

“Not like a
solid mark. If they’re open to male or female advances, they don’t
react badly to being touched by them.”

“Oh. I see. So
if you smacked someone...”

“I’d be in
trouble for wearing the wrong mark.”

“Then why did
Vidan suggest Dreamish?” she asked.

“As the Shrike,
I can go anywhere.”

“Right. Of
course.” She sighed. “It’s all so damned complicated. But I didn’t
get into trouble for smacking that
rasheer
.”

“You didn’t see
her, and she was forgiving. If you’d had a solid mark she’d never
have touched you.”

“Right. So if
we went to Roshnar...”

He leant
forward and pulled off the eye patch, rubbing his eye. “Okay,
here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go as two solid marks. It will be
unusual for us to be together, but not totally unacceptable, if we
behave right.”

“How’s
that?”

“We never
touch, under any circumstances, and keep a distance between us at
all times. Essentially, if two solid marks of the opposite gender
did hang out together, they’d be like...” He paused, shaking his
head. “I don’t even know. Distant companions, maybe. Guarding each
other’s backs, although that’s not necessary in Roshnar; that’s why
it will seem strange. We wouldn’t be able to share a room. We’d
have to transfer up to one of the ships.”

Rayne pondered
this, then shrugged. “Okay. Just for a short while. I just want to
see the place.”

“It would be
far easier if I went as myself.”

“I know. Maybe
we can do that, too, later, and visit some of the other
bio-domes.”

He nodded.
“Okay.”

Chapter Twelve

Rayne gazed
around the dim club, meeting the eyes of several people who raked
her with disinterested glances before looking away. Her wish to
come to Roshnar had seemed strange even to her, considering the
restrictions it placed on her, but now she realised that she wanted
to know more about solid marks like Tarke, so she could understand
him better. The plush leisure club was tastefully furnished with
crimson velvet seats and sleek round glass tables that sprouted
from the black carpet on slender stems. Glowing tendrils hung from
the ceiling, providing soft light, and flowery perfume scented the
conditioned air. Vidscreens showed pleasant images of forests,
beaches and mountains, and soft music wafted from all around. A low
murmur of voices filled the place, but the atmosphere was subdued
and, above all else, sterile.

Groups of men
sat around the tables, while knots of women occupied booths along
the walls. The majority were solid marks, but a few two-thirds sat
together in more relaxed groups. There were even several couples
with two-thirds marks, whose behaviour was almost normal. Tarke
indicated an empty table, and they sat down. A female server with a
two-thirds mark that precluded male advances approached and eyed
them with a doubtful frown. Tarke ordered drinks, and she left,
casting puzzled looks over her shoulder.

He said,
“Already we’re attracting attention. Maybe this wasn’t such a good
idea.”

“What business
is it of theirs if we want to be together?”

“Because it’s
not normal for solid marks.”

“They’re
together, and they’re solid marks.” She nodded at one of the male
groups at a neighbouring table.

“They’re all
men.”

“But they don’t
accept advances from men, so what’s the difference?”

He gazed across
the room. “The advances men make to each other aren’t the same as a
woman would make to a man, or a man would make to a woman. They
spurn friendship, for the most part, but will sometimes become
friends with other solid-mark males. Mostly, it means neither males
nor females can touch them, and they don’t do that.”

“But, like you
said on Rimon, a male and female solid mark can also be together,
because we don’t allow advances from the opposite sex either.”

“If you were a
mertaan
, and a two-thirds mark, yes. There I was your
sponsor. Everyone could tell you were new, although it’s still
pretty obvious. Here, us being together is pretty weird, for this
lot.”

“Why can’t a
man and a woman be friends?”

He sat back as
the serving girl placed two pale green drinks on the table. “That’s
rare, even for normals. If trouble starts, we’ll have to
leave.”

“Why would
trouble start?”

“If it does,
you’ll see. If not, I’ll explain it to you later.”

For almost an
hour, they sipped their drinks and made idle conversation, while
Rayne tried to ignore the growing tension around them. Several men
at nearby tables kept shooting them angry glances, and a few times
frowning women peered out of their booths. Tarke had almost
finished his drink when his eyes focussed on something behind her,
and his expression cooled.

“Here comes
trouble.”

Rayne swung
around, and the solid-mark man who approached veered away to the
side. A scowl wrinkled his brow, and his eyes glinted above a
broken nose with a ring in it. An ugly tattoo covered one side of
his face, ruining his looks, which had once been good, she guessed.
He had done his best to make himself ugly, and succeeded, for the
most part. He stopped beside their table, out of reach.

“Just what the
hell are you two?” he demanded.

Tarke shrugged.
“As you see.”

“Your marks are
wrong, if you sit together like friends.”

“No, they’re
right.”

“A
rashone
who spurns women and a
rasheer
who spurns
men, friends. You expect us to believe that?”

Tarke leant on
the table. “I make one exception, her, and she makes one exception,
me.”

“Why?”

“We saved each
other.”

The man
glowered at Rayne. “Why would you?”

“We had no
other choice. We were in a
tralack merdan tran
. We made a
pact, and we each kept our side of the deal. I trust her now, and
she trusts me. And we don’t owe you an explanation, so piss
off.”

“A
tralack
...” He shot Tarke a sideways glance. “And
she...?”