Slave Empire III - The Shrike Page 11

  “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?”

  “Hard to say, but I would imagine soon.”

  “I’d better go and warn the fleet. Did you have any trouble with the Atlanteans?”

  “Nope. They were quite well behaved for a change.”

  Vidan’s expression became vaguely accusing. “I was pretty worried, you know. You could have sent a message.”

  “I didn’t know I was married to you, too. I think I want a divorce. Didn’t Drayva keep you informed?”

  “Only of what he knew, which wasn’t much.”

  Tarke sat on the chair opposite Rayne. “Any problems?”

  “There are two slavers waiting to see you. One of them has been here for five days now.”

  “You couldn’t deal with them?”

  “They’re both demanding to see you. I don’t qualify.”

  Tarke sighed. “It’s time I got you a grey coat
and a mask.”

  “Yeah, right. When will you see these guys? They know you’re back, so they’re going to start pestering me.”

  “I suppose now would be as good a time as any. I don’t want them hanging around after the Ship arrives.” Tarke turned to Rayne. “Do you want to go to the apartment to rest, or will you come?”

  “I’ll come.”

  Tarke said to Vidan, “Take them to the meeting room.”

  “Right.” He headed for the door.

  The Shrike rose and poured two drinks, giving one to Rayne as he sat opposite again. “Glad to be home?”

  “Glad to be awake. Funny, this does feel like home now.”

  “It is your home.”

  She shook her head. “My home is wherever you are.”

  “I won’t be letting you out of my sight for a very long time. You do realise that, don’t you?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I might even put you in a glass case.”

  She smiled. “Or wrap me in cotton wool?”

  “And wrap you in cotton wool.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You bet you’re not.”

  Rayne giggled. “Don’t get all possessive now.”

  “I’ll put a leash on Shadowen.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s in the other hangar. I had him overhauled and refitted. He came on a few missions, but no one else has flown him. He’s still your ship. I didn’t intend to let anyone else have him.”

  Vidan returned, even more out of breath. “The slavers are waiting.”

  “Good. Let them. Has the ship arrived yet?”

  “No. But there’s a sudden rash of space line chatter from Atlan. Apparently it left shortly after you did, which caused quite a stir.”

  “I’ll bet it did. The Atlantean tourism industry just crashed.”

  Vidan smiled. “There are also a lot of celebrations going on, because of the Golden Child’s recovery.”

  Rayne blushed, taking a gulp of her drink to hide her embarrassment.

  Tarke said, “They’re just glad there isn’t going to be a war with me, except for the religious nuts, of course. No one else cares about her that much. If they did, they’d have taken better care of her, instead of letting her try to kill herself with drugs. I hate hypocrites.”

  Vidan nodded. “The slavers?”

  The Shrike sighed and finished his drink. “Are they going to start rotting or something, Vidan? What’s the damned rush?”

  “Well, they’ve been waiting for quite a while already -”

  “That’s their problem. They didn’t have to.”

  “And one of them is Vorquin.”

  Tarke shook his head. “I don’t care.”

  Rayne asked, “What’s so special about him?”

  “He’s just a bigger pain in the rear than most,” Tarke replied, then ordered Vidan, “Tell them I’m on my way.”

  The Shrike waited until Rayne finished her drink before carrying her to his sumptuous meeting room, where the spoils of his wealth were displayed to belittle his guests. Two guards stood outside the huge, gold-inlaid double doors, and pushed them open as the Shrike approached, following him inside. The vast, opulent room was adorned with priceless hangings and furniture and owned a tasteful décor. Four more guards stood inside the doors, their hands on the hilts of their weapons.

  Two well-dressed aliens stood up as Tarke walked over to the cluster of plush sofas around a low black wood table with a crystal top. One man wore a gleaming metallic coat and high collar traditional to Shirrans, the other was clad in a shiny white one-piece suit of sleek artificial leather. Tarke turned his back on them to lower Rayne onto a sofa. Vidan hovered, clutching a scribe pad, his eyes on the slavers, who waited until Tarke turned to face them, then bowed, somewhat stiffly and with obvious reluctance. The Shrike indicated the chairs behind them.

  “Sit.” He settled beside Rayne. “So, which of you has waited the longest for this meeting?”

  “That would be me,” the grim-faced Shirran stated, casting a hard glance at the Mansurian slaver. “And I’d like a private meeting.”

  Tarke nodded to Vidan, who signalled for the other alien to accompany him and showed him out through a side door. When Vidan returned to stand beside Tarke, the Shirran eyed Rayne.

  “I require complete privacy.”

  “Then you may remove your unwelcome presence from my base, Vorquin,” Tarke said.

  The Shirran scowled. “Very well then. I pay good money for a shipping route across your territory, and my freighters are being attacked.”

  “I didn’t offer you secure passage. What happens to your ships in my territory isn’t my concern.”

  “You allow pirates to operate freely?”

  “My territory spans eight hundred and fifty-seven light years in every direction. My ships don’t patrol it all.”

  “Then maybe they should, because my cargo is being stolen and you won’t allow my warships to protect my freighters in your territory.”

  The Shrike shrugged. “Then find another route.”

  “That would waste a great deal of time, adding days to the journey.”

  “Not my concern.”

  Vorquin seemed to swell. “I did you the courtesy of coming here myself, and waited five days for this meeting. The least you could do is offer my ships protection.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. Even this meeting is a courtesy on my part. Any minion of yours would not even have been allowed on my base, so I advise you to choose your words carefully.”

  Vorquin subsided, shaking his head. “I meant no offense, Shrike. I need secure passage. This is crippling me.”

  “I didn’t offer you secure passage at the outset of our agreement, and I’m not offering it to you now. Take the risk or find another route. This meeting is over.”

  Vorquin opened his mouth to protest, but Vidan stepped closer and motioned to the doors, which the guards opened. The slaver gave a harsh grunt, rose and marched out.

  As soon as the doors closed behind him, Rayne smiled at her husband. “You’re the one raiding his ships, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” Tarke turned to Vidan. “Send in the other idiot.”

  Vidan ushered the second slaver back in, and he sat opposite Tarke, licking his lips.

  The Shrike shifted, betraying his impatience. “Speak or leave, Jerlan.”

  “I have a cargo I can’t use. I heard you buy third-grade slaves.”

  “I do.”

  Jerlan looked down at his hands. “I was tricked. The slaves were supposed to be ill-used and old, but they’re all burnouts, and addicted to Stardust. I can’t afford to keep them on the drug while I sell them at markets. I need to sell them all, now.”

  “What did you pay for them?”

  “Five regals each.”

  Rayne glanced at her husband, keeping her expression blank.

  He gave a slight nod. “I’ll give you three.”

  Jerlan pulled a face. “I was hoping for six, maybe.”

  “You still expect to make a profit? Three is all they’re worth. Take it or leave it.”

  “In the four days I’ve waited for this meeting, they’ve cost me that much in drugs alone.”

  The Shrike leant forward, lacing his fingers. “Not my problem. Take the offer or get out.”

  “I’ll take it.” Jerlan sighed, shaking his head. “I should have had them euthanized straight away.”

  “But you didn’t. You still thought you could make a few regals on the deal, so your greed has cost you.”

  “If I hadn’t been told you would buy them, I wouldn’t have kept them alive. Next time I won’t.”

  Tarke shook his head. “No, bring them to me. Maybe next time I’ll offer you a better deal.”

  “I don’t understand why you want them.”

  “That’s not your business. How many are there?”

  “Two hundred and seventy-four.”

  The Shr
ike turned his head towards Vidan, who tapped on his scribe pad and named a sum. Tarke faced Jerlan again, and the slaver nodded, looking beaten.

  “Is the freighter in orbit?” Tarke asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell your captain to expect my shuttles, and get ready to disembark the slaves.”

  Jerlan’s brows rose. “You’re bringing them here?”

  “What I do with my slaves is not your concern, Jerlan.”

  “But it’ll cost you a fortune; the Stardust -”

  “I’m touched by your concern for my finances. Our business is concluded. Vidan will pay you.”

  Vidan put away the scribe pad and gestured to the doors. Jerlan rose, clearly mystified, and bowed to Tarke before following Vidan out. The doors boomed closed, and Rayne gazed at her husband’s masked profile, swallowing a lump.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.” He sighed. “This is happening because I killed Jamdar. I’ll bet Jerlan was selling these burnouts to him, and now he has no market for them. It’s a good thing. Now I can save them.”

  “What will you do with them? What about the drug?”

  “I already have a place for them, where I settle burnouts addicted to Stardust. It’s a little overcrowded already. I’ll have to build another dome on the Serian Moon. The Stardust isn’t a problem. They manufacture it themselves and grow the plants, too. It gives them something to do and provides for their needs. Since the factory is set up for drug production, some of them make the less harmful leisure drugs like Bliss, which is sold to make enough profit to provide them with food and clothes. They don’t drain my resources at all. They even try to make a profit for me, but I use that to improve their living conditions.”

  She nodded. “And it all seems legitimate to the rest of the slavers and drug dealers that you use slaves to produce drugs.”

  “The only thing they don’t know is that they’re not slaves. They go there by choice, although they don’t have many other options since they must have the Stardust. Some do leave, and make enough money to provide for their needs. It’s up to them. They can return at any time if they can’t manage, and join the community on the Serian Moon.”