Slave Empire III - The Shrike (3 page)

Tarke freed
himself from her lax hold and jumped up, donning his skullcap, mask
and gloves as he headed for the door. “I have to see to this. You
should return to your apartment.”

“But…”

The door closed
behind him, and she stared at it. The timing of the fire alarm was
just too convenient, and she remembered the moment when his eyes
had become unfocussed. She knew what that meant. He had accessed
something via his implant, and she was sure the alarm had not been
a coincidence. Tarke could control anything on the base. There were
hundreds of base personnel, though, and a posse of fire fighters,
she was sure, so a fire alarm definitely did not warrant the
personal intervention of the Shrike. What really amazed her was
that he would rather start a five-alarm fire than let her get close
to him, or push her away. What was his problem?

A week later,
the mystery drove Rayne to ask Vidan about it, since he was closer
to Tarke than anyone else. She confronted the Atlantean in his
office, where he was usually to be found when he was on duty. His
cheerful smile faded at her first words.

“Why can’t
Tarke ever have a proper marriage?”

He looked
surprised and a little uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”

“That’s what he
told me. There’s a ‘technical detail’ that prevents marriage to him
ever being anything other than a job.”

“And you think
I would know something like that?”

“I hoped you
might. You’ve known him a lot longer. I thought maybe he cared
about me, but we’re still just friends, and that doesn’t seem like
it’s going to change, ever. Did he really marry me just so he could
keep the promise he made me on the Crystal Ship, to let me see his
face?”

“You were
expecting more, from Tarke?” Vidan raised his brows.

“Why do you say
that like it’s the most obvious thing in the world?”

“This is
Tarke
we’re talking about, right? Tall guy, black mask,
hasn’t been seen by mortal eyes for five decades or more?”

“Is that
supposed to tell me something?”

“Well, I
thought…” He hesitated. “He hasn’t told you anything?”

“No.”

He sighed and
shook his head. “Look, all I know is he sure as shit didn’t have to
keep his promise, so he must have had a very good reason for doing
it. You’re the only person he’s ever allowed to see his face – who
hasn’t been mind-wiped afterwards, that is. He’s gone to a lot of
trouble to give you what you want, so you must be special,
right?”

“Then why do I
feel like part of the furniture? We have dinner when he’s here, and
we chat, and then I go back to my apartment. That’s not normal. Is
it an Antian thing? Is he incapable of feelings?”

“Not as far as
I know.”

“Was it because
he felt bad about reneging on his promise, and, when he saw I
wasn’t happy, he felt obliged to keep it?”

Vidan snorted.
“Felt bad about breaking his promise, Tarke? He’s broken more
promises, treaties and codicils to treaties than I care to
remember. He’s had to fight to get where he is. It didn’t come
easily, and he uses any means he can. If his promise gained him
something without him keeping it, why should he? Unless he wanted
to, which, as it turned out, he did.”

“Okay, then....
is it because I’m not Antian? I suppose the ‘technical detail’
could be because there are no Antian women left, but… is it a
physical thing?”

“Not as far as
I know. But I don’t know much. All I know is he was angry when he
saw the vidfilms of you in those sleazy clubs, full of drugs. He
used to get into the filthiest moods, watching them.”

“Vidfilms?”

“The ones his
spies took. He didn’t tell you about those, either?” When she shook
her head, he grimaced and rubbed his brow. “He’ll glue my lips
together.”

“Not if I don’t
tell him.”

“Look, if you
want to know things about him, you should ask him.”

“Why did he
have his spies take vidfilms?” she asked. “Why didn’t they just
give him a report?”

“He wanted
proof. Tarke isn’t the most trusting guy in the galaxy. He’s even
doubted me on occasion. But the fact that he was so interested in
your life should tell you something.”

“Not really,”
she said. “I can understand that he’d be concerned about me. After
all, we went through a lot together on the Crystal Ship. He saved
my life a few times, but that was because he was my guardian,
right? And we were friends, even then. But was it only friendship
that made him want to save me from the lifestyle I chose?”

“You’ll have to
ask him that.”

“But you know,
don’t you?”

“I only know
what I saw, and what he said, but he didn’t say anything specific.
I would be guessing, and I might be wrong.”

Rayne frowned,
frustrated. Second-hand accounts of Tarke’s evasions would shed
little light on the matter. “Can’t you tell me anything? Give me a
hint? Steer me in the right direction?”

“Look, Rayne,
think about it. If he did all this so he could show you his face,
he must have had a very good reason. He must have wanted you to get
to know him better, or he wouldn’t have done it, would he?”

“That’s what I
thought, but nothing’s changed in all the time I’ve been here. So…
I guess it must have something to do with this ‘technical detail’,
right?”

He shifted,
avoiding her eyes. “He has his reasons, but they’re his reasons, so
you need to ask him if you want to know. Maybe you should just be
grateful for what he’s given you. He’s made you one of the most
powerful women in the galaxy.”

“I never wanted
wealth and power. I want to know what he’s hiding and why he’s
hiding it.”

Vidan shook his
head. “Then you’ll have to ask him.”

“Does it have
something to do with his past?”

“Of course it
does. You know he was a slave. But if he won’t tell you, it’s not
my place to.”

“He doesn’t
like to talk about it, but he didn’t say you couldn’t. If you know
something, you should tell me.”

“No. He might
not want you to know.”

“Know what? For
pity’s sake, what’s the big secret?” she asked.

“What did he
promise you when he asked you to be his wife?”

“Not much.” She
remembered the day in the private room near the club. “He said it
was a job that would otherwise not be filled, because of this
‘technical detail’.”

“Then that’s
what it is. If you accepted it on those terms, you shouldn’t expect
anything more.”

“But -”

“I’m sorry. I
can’t help you.” Vidan turned away, and she sensed his
determination and sorrow.

Rayne glared at
him and left, fuming at the unfairness of the situation and his
loyalty that protected Tarke’s secrets even from her. What could
his past have to do with the current situation? Why would it make
him so unapproachable? She knew that asking him about it was a
pointless exercise. He had made it abundantly clear that he would
not tell her anything, and he was far too intelligent to be duped
into letting something slip.

The prospect of
revealing her feelings when his might be so inadequate did not
appeal to her. Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, she
went to his apartment to see if she could find any clues. He had
returned to the base earlier that day, and if she found something
perhaps she could steer the dinner conversation without asking him
outright.

Tarke’s
apartment door opened at her approach. Since she dined there
occasionally, the sensor was programmed to admit her, and she had
never arrived before the allotted time. She entered the luxurious
lounge, then went into the bedroom, which she had not been in
before, and was curious to see. She wandered about, admiring the
tasteful décor and several ornaments he kept beside his bed. One
looked like a religious icon from Earth, and she sat on the bed to
study it, afraid to touch it. If it was from Earth, it was
priceless, and might be rigged to an alarm. Then again, she mused,
no one would dare to steal from the Shrike, and his people were far
too loyal to even think of ever doing such a thing.

Becoming aware
of the hiss of running water, she looked up, wondering if one of
the servants was cleaning the bathroom. The sound stopped, and she
decided to go back into the lounge before she was caught sitting on
his bed. As she rose to her feet, the bathroom door slid open and
Tarke emerged, pulling off the skin-hugging black tunic he always
wore under his shirt. He stopped in surprise, and she gasped,
sinking back onto the bed.

A web of thin,
pale scars covered his torso, extended up to his neck, down his
arms, and vanished under the waistband of his trousers. They curved
over pads and ridges of muscle, perfectly straight if not for his
contours. Smaller, jagged scars marred his belly and arms, and
several thread-thin lines were mixed with the broader scars. She
stared at them, transfixed, as numbness rushed in to claim her
mind, ousted her horror and replaced it with the howling emptiness
of the Envoy’s psychic scars.

Tarke glanced
down at the tunic he held and pulled a face, then flung it on a
chair and approached Rayne. Sitting beside her, he studied her
calm, blank expression. She wore her black coverall, and her hair
was pulled back in a French braid, a few stray strands straggling
across one high cheekbone. What was she doing here so early? She
stared through him, her eyes fixed on the faraway point in the void
that had claimed her reason. He sighed and stroked her cheek. She
was so young, only twenty-eight, yet she had already survived many
hardships on her dying home world before the Atlanteans had taken
her from it. Her presence warmed his heart, as it always did, and
his strange wish to touch her fascinated him. Not that he did it
all that often. Hardly ever, in fact. It would be unfair to give
her the wrong impression about him.

“Come on, snap
out of it, Rayne,” he murmured. “It’s not such a shock, surely? You
must have had some idea of what happens to slaves?”

Rayne flinched
at the sound of his voice, blinking as he stroked her cheek. He
continued to murmur encouraging words until awareness flooded back
into her eyes.

He lowered his
hand and sat back, watching her. “Better now?”

She nodded, her
eyes avoiding his chest.

He looked down
at it with a sigh. “You had no idea, did you? Or are you just
outraged at the damage done to your husband, whom you thought was
perfect?”

Rayne focussed
on the scars with an obvious effort, and raised a hand to trace one
with a finger. He tensed, and she withdrew her hand. “How could
they do this to you?”

“You mean
damage me?” He snorted. “It didn’t detract from my value all that
much.”

“I mean hurt
you. Nothing you could have done deserved this.”

Tarke frowned
at his hands. He still found it uncomfortable to be in her company
without his mask, and even worse when he was not wearing his vest
and shirt. “I was a slave. It came with the territory.” He stood up
and moved out of her reach. “Now that you’re feeling better,
perhaps you’d care to wait for me in the lounge. You’re early, you
know.”

“I know. I
wanted to talk to you.”

“You seem to
have got more than you bargained for. It won’t be the topic of
conversation, by the way.”

Rayne glanced
at his scars again, unable to hide her horror. The one in the
centre of his chest, a legacy of the laser burn he had received
aboard the Draycon ship, was still pink.

Tarke turned
away, and she whimpered at the sight of the scars on his back,
clamping a hand over her mouth. There were so many that they
overlapped in layers; decades of torture cut into his skin in pale
patterns of pain. She could envision them running with blood, and
imagine the agony he must have endured at the time of their
infliction. He swung around with a frown, and his expression became
concerned as he returned to sit beside her again, studying her.

“You may be an
empath, but you can’t possibly feel pain that happened years
ago.”

“I can imagine
it. I know all about pain.”

He nodded.
“Perhaps you can, but it’s not doing you any good, so stop it. I
don’t want you drifting off again.”

“Why did they
do that to you?”

“I wasn’t a
particularly well-behaved slave. The collar inflicts terrible pain,
but it’s fleeting, gone in a few moments. There were times when
they wanted me to suffer for days, even weeks, and the best way to
do that is with a flogging. It’s also humiliating, and can break
even a strong man’s spirit.”

“But they never
broke yours.”

“No,” he said.
“But they came close on a couple of occasions.”

“Is this why
you gave me an apartment, because you didn’t want me to see this?
Because now that I have -”

“No.”

“There’s no
reason we can’t be together. I don’t want there to be secrets
between us -”

“Rayne...”

“I want us to
be happy. We deserve to be happy, don’t we?”

“We do, but
this isn’t the reason for it.”

“Then what?”
she asked.

“I don’t want
to discuss it. Be content with what we have. You’re happy, aren’t
you? You’re not taking those filthy drugs anymore. You have a
purpose and friends, don’t you?”

“Yes, but
-”

“Then be
content with that, okay?”

“Why?”

He jumped up,
heading for the bathroom again. “Because I say so.”

“It has to do
with your past, doesn’t it?” She followed him, refusing to be put
off this time. “You don’t have to tell me about that. Just tell me
why we can’t be together.”

He turned in
the doorway, blocking it. “The two are inextricably intertwined,
I’m afraid. If I tell you the reason, you’ll want to know what
caused it, and that, I don’t wish to talk about. Are you so
unhappy? Can’t you be content with what we have? I am.”