Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship Page 8

  “Endrix, do something. Help me!”

  “I cannot.”

  “Shadowen!”

  Rayne gasped as the icy light crept over her, her heart hammering so hard she was sure it would burst. The creeping, frigid fingers of light had almost engulfed her. Shadowen’s lights flickered and flared as he scanned the bridge for an alien presence.

  “I can detect nothing,” he said. “There is no entity aboard this ship.”

  “There is! Can’t you see it?” She brushed at the light on her arms, causing it to swirl, like mist.

  “I can detect nothing.”

  A strange slipping sensation gripped her, as if she was sliding through the fabric of space.

  “No!” Her despairing cry filled the bridge as it vanished.

  Tarke opened his eyes and stared at a plain white ceiling. He lifted an arm, finding himself weak, and touched the mask, reassured by its presence. Raising his head, he surveyed a hospital room. A bevy of machines stood watch over him. Holographic readouts monitored his heart and blood pressure, measured his breathing and tested his temperature. They were all normal. He was alone, but the door’s green light told him it was unlocked.

  Sitting up, he fingered the mask, longing to remove it and get at the terrible itch that plagued his face. Two remote sensors were stuck to his chest, feeding information to the machines, so he could get up if he wanted. Someone had switched off the sleep inducer, so evidently his doctors had decided he was well enough to get up, and left him alone to do so. His people knew how much he treasured his privacy, and Vidan was undoubtedly here to ensure his care. Vidan always arrived within hours when Tarke was injured, to hover over him like a broody hen. He had given the poor man many frights over the years with his frequent brushes with death. He swung his legs off the bed, pausing to allow a wave of dizziness to pass, and ordered the door to lock. The light turned red, and he pressed his fingers to the release studs on the sides of the mask.

  With a sigh of relief, he pulled it off, breaking the glue of dried blood. He tossed it onto the bed and rubbed his face, ridding himself of the itching, then unclipped the skullcap and removed it, along with the neck guard. After a pause to gather his strength, he tottered into the washroom and peered into the mirror above the basin. Dried blood caked his chin and cheeks from his nose, probably from the concussion that had knocked him senseless. He washed it off with warm water, then peered at the wound in his chest.

  Pink regeneration jelly smeared it, and already new skin had started to cover it under the glue that held it together. He was clad only his undershorts, and he poked the wounds in his thighs and hips. Satisfied that he was in one piece and healing, he returned to the bed and donned the robe beside it, finding a clean mask and skullcap, too. This anticipation of his needs told him Vidan was here, and he smiled as he picked them up. Donning them, he sent a summons to his loyal lieutenant, unlocking the door at the same time.

  Vidan entered a few minutes later, smiling. “Looks like you’re feeling better.”

  Tarke inclined his head. “Not too bad. Tell me what’s happened; all of it.” He leant back against the pile of pillows.

  Vidan sat on a chair beside the bed. “Well, Norvar was destroyed in the end. It broke up after we released it. The Draycons have returned to their planets. They don’t seem inclined to pursue the matter. Valiant is too badly damaged to repair, so I’ve ordered her to be broken down. The other two cruisers suffered major damage, but can be saved. They’ve gone to Almaritze for restructuring. The rest of the ships suffered only minor damage, and they’re being repaired. The Atlanteans left shortly after we did, and we tapped into their communications. It seems a massive alien entity appeared near Atlan during the battle, and they were recalled to investigate it.”

  “Any word from Shadowen since then?”

  “No.”

  “Contact him and find out what’s going on.”

  Vidan’s brows rose. “Why are you so concerned with this human girl? It isn’t like you to take such risks for the sake of one person.” He smiled. “Is she that pretty?”

  Tarke snorted. “You should know better than that. She might be important. You know the legend of the Golden Child?”

  “I should, I’m Atlantean.”

  “She’s supposed to be it.”

  “Really.” Vidan looked thoughtful. “And do you think she is?”

  “She fits the description. I don’t know for sure, but I’m not taking any chances. If Atlan falls, we’ll be dealing with Drayconar.”

  Vidan shuddered. “Not a pleasant thought.”

  “Right, and this alien entity that’s appeared near Atlan could be a crystal ship. I want to know if it is, and what’s happened to the girl, if anything.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll contact Shadowen and get a report.” Vidan paused, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not thinking of trying to stop it attacking Atlan, are you?”

  The Shrike shook his head. “It’s not my problem, except what could happen in the aftermath. If it destroys Atlan, the Draycons will be free to take over, and that threatens us. And what will the Ship do after it’s destroyed the Atlanteans? I doubt it’s just going to go away.”

  “Surely Atlan has the military strength to destroy this thing before it does them any harm?”

  “I don’t know. If that was the case, why does the prophecy say only the Golden Child can save Atlan? Where did the prophecy come from?”

  Vidan shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “So there could be more to this than meets the eye.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Maybe nothing,” Tarke said. “It depends on what’s happening to Rayne. She might be in danger, and if she’s the only person who can stop this alien ship, I should help her. She has a guide, someone called Endrix. See if you can contact him. He might know more.”

  Vidan nodded and rose, still looking a little confused. After he left, Tarke pondered what he knew, not surprised that Vidan had become lost in the situation’s complexity. Only he and Rayne knew he had encountered and destroyed the first crystal ship, unless, of course, she had told the Atlanteans, which seemed likely. Vidan clearly could not understand his concern for the Atlanteans, since they were his arch enemies, and he could not tell him it was the girl he was really concerned about. Once again, he was filled with an inexplicable urge to rush to her aid, and he was not even sure she was in danger. He lay back and pondered the situation.

  Vidan returned about half an hour later, his brow wrinkled with confusion. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it doesn’t seem good. I couldn’t contact Shadowen, so I tapped into the Atlantean communications. There was so much space line chatter it took the techs a while to sort it out. It seems this alien is a huge crystalline entity, and it’s vanished. No one can find it. The trouble is, Shadowen vanished at the same time, and the Atlanteans think the alien ship took him, with the girl on board.”

  The Shrike groaned.

  Vidan waited for several moments, then asked, “What do you want to do about it?”

  “I don’t know.” Tarke raised his head and groaned again, this time with pain.

  Vidan’s expression became concerned. “You mustn’t exert yourself.”

  The Shrike looked down at the wound in his chest. “How long before this thing’s healed?”

  “The doctors said you should remain in bed until tomorrow at the earliest.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You could tear it open.” Vidan frowned, his chubby face becoming stern. “I won’t allow you to do that.”

  “Allow me? How do you propose to stop me?”

  “I would much rather you didn’t try anything as stupid as going to Atlan to try to find this ship, and the girl. If she is the Golden Child, she doesn’t need your help. Going to Atlan is suicide. They won’t hesitate to capture you. It’s too dangerous.”

  “And when has danger ever prevented me from doing something?” Tarke asked.

 
“Never, but I have.”

  The Shrike nodded. “Ah, yes, the time you transferred me out of a slaver’s hold before I could kill the bastard.”

  “Before he could kill you.”

  “So little faith.”

  Vidan shook his head. “It wasn’t that, and you know it. Without you, hundreds of thousands of people will suffer and die. That’s what I can’t allow.”

  “You would carry on. No one would suffer.”

  “You’re wrong. I can’t. I’m not you. It’s you they believe in. You’re the one who gives them hope. You’re the one they’d die for, not me.”

  Tarke sighed. “Dress someone else up in a black outfit and a mask and they won’t know the difference. You’ve done it before. All those poor sods the Atlanteans executed, thinking they were me.”

  “They know your voice and manner. Those men fooled the Atlanteans, but they wouldn’t have fooled your people.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you,” Tarke said. “If the Crystal Ship isn’t stopped, we’re all in a lot of trouble, and I don’t think we even realise how much.”

  “What can we do, if we don’t know where it is? This Endrix person hasn’t responded to our calls. If we locate the alien ship, or this Endrix responds, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you need to sleep.”

  As Vidan spoke the last word, the familiar, enervating sensation of a sleep inducer drew a black curtain across Tarke’s mind.

  Vidan settled Tarke comfortably, then went to the door, where he paused to gaze back before leaving him to rest. He disliked overriding the Shrike’s wishes, but at times he was forced to, when Tarke seemed bent on self-destruction. In all the years Vidan had been with him, he had not figured out the strange man he worked for. There had been more than one occasion when he had stepped in to avert a disaster, when Tarke seemed to go off the deep end. He knew Tarke had a lot of problems locked behind his calm demeanour and inscrutable mask. He even knew some of the reasons for them, but he was never able to put the symptom together with its cause.

  There was just too much inexplicable tragedy in Tarke’s past, too many things he never spoke about. Now it seemed the Shrike was once more on the road to self-destruction, and going into one of his risky phases, when he stopped caring about his safety. These times were tense for Vidan. The Shrike’s loss would doom his empire and all those who thrived within it. Although that concerned him, his main fear was losing the man he loved more than a brother, who saved so many from unspeakable humiliation and suffering.

  The Shrike’s concern for the human girl was strange, he pondered as he walked along a smooth, pale corridor towards the base’s main control centre. Perhaps it was, as he claimed, because she might be the Golden Child, but he hoped there was more to it than that. Tarke had lived like a monk for as long as he had known him, refusing the temptations of some of the most beautiful and exotic women in the galaxy. The fact that he was Antian partially explained it, but Vidan had always hoped Tarke would one day find a female companion with whom to share his problems, and who might put an end to his wild and dangerous ways.

  Now this human girl seemed to have caught his attention, and fresh hope took hold in Vidan. He wondered if the problem had been the other women’s exotic looks, because compared to them, the human girl was quite ordinary. He shook his head and strode through the doors that opened ahead of him, entering a scene very like that of a ship’s bridge. Whatever the reason for Tarke’s interest, he had to find a way to ensure the human girl’s survival.

  Vidan stopped beside one of the officers who manned a console. The man glanced up at him in surprise. “Vidan, what brings you here? I thought you were monitoring the Shrike.”

  “I was, but he’s asleep now. Any response to our calls to the ship called Endrix?”

  “No. And Shadowen hasn’t reappeared either.”

  Vidan nodded. “Keep searching for him. It’s important that we find him, and keep calling Endrix.”

  Rayne gasped and opened her eyes, fighting a strange lethargy that tried to slam them shut. Moist, musty air made her cough as she fought to raise her head. She was unable to prevail against the far stronger urge to fall asleep again, and allowed the warm gloom to wash over her. There was nothing to see, anyway, only darkness.

  Swimming down into the depths of her dreams, she encountered the alien presence again, stronger, keener, and eager for her help. It raced around in her mind like a frolicking foal, searched through her memories and sampled her emotions. Vaguely she was aware that she seemed to be trapped in warm stickiness, but perhaps that was part of the dream. She concentrated on the alien mind, trying to ask it questions, but not knowing how. It seemed to divine her need, and showed her a series of brief, telepathic visions that jolted her.

  The seething, rosy chamber seemed prevalent in the creature’s thoughts – a hot, sticky scene that made little sense to a human observer. Other scenes meant even less, she found: cascades of clear liquid and a red river of tiny, indistinct creatures. Masses of fragile green swelled in sheets of light, puffing out cool breezes, and vast empty spaces aglow with pearly brilliance. Her confusion seemed to agitate the creature, and it flashed the pictures more forcefully. Realising that she was only making things worse, Rayne strived to relax, communicating her sympathy and friendship again. This had the desired effect of calming the massive entity.

  I have to wake up, Rayne told it. I have to see you with my eyes. The concept of eyes confused the Ship, and she could not explain it. It gave her a picture of a vastness that puzzled her, a flat plain of nothingness strewn with tiny islands of solid matter and points of hot brilliance. Above this seethed a sky of glowing yellow, and below, a vast void. The scene lingered while she studied it, and, as she did, realisation dawned like the first sunrise on a new world. She was seeing the three dimensions as the ship did, viewing the universe in its colossal entirety, summed up in a picture that reduced it to a finite reality.

  The vast plain that was the second dimension stretched away without apparent end, as did the other two, yet she sensed the Ship knew its end, although it had never been there. Having grasped this, she probed for more information, and it laid before her a picture of alien beauty that made her gasp. A vast gaseous nebula, warmed by several million huge stars, was the glowing cauldron of life-giving sustenance for a bevy of its kindred. The ships sailed this spacial sea, grazed on various gasses, soaked up the stars’ radiation and basked in solar winds. This was its home, left far behind to come to this cold, dark region of space, which was like a desert to the Ship. Once, it had detected life beyond its nebula, but for a long time now, there had been nothing.

  Because of the creature that hurts you, she thought, and the Ship agreed. Many of its kind had sailed from the nebula, driven by the creatures that lived within them, and returned starved and exhausted, while their parasites were fat. One had not returned. Rayne remembered the remains of the crystal ship on Elliadaren, and a powerful sorrow suffused her. Banishing the memory, she tried to communicate her need to the Ship again, asking it to release her from the constraints of sleep in which it had trapped her.

  This only confused it. It had no understanding of her concepts of sight, touch or locomotion. She asked to see the parasites, and again it flashed the rosy, seething chamber. She asked to see herself, and, after a brief pause, it showed her a picture of sleek greyish pink flesh, or something like it. In the middle was a tiny speck, stuck to it like an insect to flypaper, so small she could hardly make it out. The realisation that to this creature, she was the size of a flea in relation to a Great Dane came as a shock.

  Rayne tried to tell it that she had to move, to find the dominant male parasite that was the Envoy, but the Ship found the idea of her crawling within it abhorrent. She was not partial to it herself, but in order to help it, she had to make contact with the Envoy. The Ship communicated deep misgivings at this, and she sensed its concern, for it considered the Envoy to be dangerous to one as small as her. Rayne silently agreed, but again
asked to be allowed to move, making her request as forceful as she could.

  Chapter Six

  The Shrike turned his head towards Vidan, who fidgeted beside the bed. He had just switched off the sleep inducer, allowing Tarke to awake, and now awaited the reprimand he knew he had coming.

  “Neat trick, that.” Tarke spoke without rancour, although Vidan sensed the leashed anger in him. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Five hours. You needed the sleep. Your wounds are almost healed now.”

  Tarke raised his head to examine his chest. “One of these days, Vidan, I’m going to strangle you. What’s happened?”

  “Absolutely nothing. No sign of Shadowen, no reply to our calls to this Endrix person. Nothing. No one has the slightest idea where Shadowen could have gone, either. The Atlanteans are still on alert, but, from their communications, they seem to think the girl has solved the problem, and they’ve seen the last of the alien ship.”

  “Bloody fools,” Tarke said. “Nothing this complex is solved so easily. We’ve got to find Endrix. He must know where she is.”

  “But we don’t know where he is. For all we know, he could be with her, wherever she is, and we can’t find any of them.”

  Tarke sat up. “Bring my clothes. I’m getting out of this damned bed before you put me to sleep again.”

  Vidan helped the Shrike to dress, ignoring the irritated grunts Tarke made when he encountered Vidan’s hands doing something he was about to do. As he pulled on his gloves, he turned to his second-in-command.

  “Do we have any information on the Crystal Ship’s disappearance? Did anyone see what happened when Shadowen approached it?”

  Vidan nodded. “The entire Atlantean fleet witnessed it. Several ships recorded it and transmitted the information to Atlan.”

  “And we tapped it.”

  “Of course. Our people have been studying it, and have a few rather far-fetched theories, but nothing concrete.”