Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship (26 page)

“
You mean they were all prudes?”

“
Yes; absolutely.”

“
Did I offend you?”

He shook his
head. “I just wouldn’t advise you to act like that around human or
Atlantean men.”

She plucked a
handful of moss and dissected it. “You said I could stay with you
if I had a good enough reason. What would you call a good enough
reason?”

“
You really should think up your own.”

“
Oh, I will. I just need an example.”

He chuckled,
shaking his head. “Now I’ll never believe you.”

“
Just tell me. What can it hurt? I know you won’t let me get
close to you, anyway. Do you think I’m that stupid?”

“
Am I that obvious?”

“
Yes, you are.” She smiled, concentrating on the moss. “I just
want to know what it would take to get your attention.”

“
You have my attention.”

“
But not your sympathy.”

“
Ah.” He sounded relieved for some reason. “Well, if you were
an outlaw, being hunted by the authorities, I might consider taking
you on. Or if you were a slave, and I freed you, I might consider
employing you.”

“
I was almost a slave, and you rescued me.”

“
Almost isn’t good enough.”

“
So I have to have one of those things.” She gestured to her
throat. “You know; a collar.”

“
Something like that.”

She pulled a
face. “I think I’d rather be an outlaw.”

“
It’s a dangerous life.”

“
I’ve had one of those for years.”

He appeared to
stare into the distance, presenting her with the mask’s strange
profile.

She sighed. “I
suppose you’ll be taking your ship back, when you go.”

“
Keep it.”

“
I can’t do that. It’s far too valuable.”

He shrugged.
“I have plenty more. I don’t need it.”

“
Thanks. I guess I can use it to come and see you in five
hundred years’ time, when you keep your promise.”

“
That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“
I hate liars.”

He plucked at
the moss. “I’m sorry about that. At the time, I almost meant it,
but I didn’t think we’d survive. You’ll probably get to see me when
Tallyn catches me one day. Doubtless he’ll display my corpse on the
council steps, as he did the others.”

Rayne
shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to see that.”

“
It would satisfy your curiosity, wouldn’t it?”

“
I thought we were friends. I like to look into a person’s
eyes when I speak to them. It’s not just curiosity. I don’t really
care what you look like. It doesn’t matter if you’re
ugly.”

He chuckled.
“That’s comforting.”

“
But you’re not, are you?”

“
I’m not purple with green spots, no.”

“
Would you take it off if I held a laser to your
head?”

He laughed.
“No.”

“
You’d rather die?”

“
You wouldn’t kill me.”

She shredded
the moss in irritation. “Are we friends?”

“
If you want.”

“
What would it take?”

He turned to
look at her, the mask glittering. “Even my most trusted people
don’t know what I look like. It’s not about trust. From time to
time, my enemies try to learn my secrets by kidnapping my people
and prying into their minds with powerful telepaths. Once, a close
advisor had to remove my mask while I was unconscious, after I had
been injured. I had a head injury, so he had no choice.” He plucked
more moss. “I had his memory wiped, for his safety.”

“
Why would your enemies want to kill you if they knew what you
look like?”

“
I can’t tell you that.”

As she
pondered her next question, she sensed the gentle brush of
Scrysalza’s mind, asking her if she was ready to leave. The Ship
was in no hurry, it said, but the people outside were growing
worried. Rayne assured it that she was not ready to leave yet, and
it withdrew to attend to other business. When she looked at Tarke
again, he faced her, and she sensed that he was watching her.

“
The Ship’s ready to send us back, isn’t it?” he
asked.

“
No,” she lied. “It just wanted to ask me
something.”

He stood up.
“Well, I’m ready to go.”

“
No, wait.” She jumped up and grabbed his arm. “I want to talk
to you some more.”

“
There’s nothing more to say. I’ll never answer your endless
questions about my secrets, and our work here is done. Go back to
Atlan and enjoy your fame. Forget about me.”

“
What about Tallyn?”

“
He can’t catch me aboard Scimarin.” He pulled free.
“Scrysalza, I’m ready to go.”

“
We could talk about something else. You can’t just go, so
soon, after everything we’ve been through together. Doesn’t it mean
anything to you?”

“
Of course it does, but it’s over now. There’s nothing left to
say.”

“
I’ll think of something.”

“
I’m sorry, Rayne.”

A sheath of
white light engulfed him, and when it faded, he was gone. She sank
down in the moss, a terrible numbness stealing over her as she
stared at the place where he had stood. His departure drained her
joy and let in the howling emptiness of the void the Envoy had left
in her mind. Doors to blank spaces opened, letting in the
unimaginable loneliness of one who has been to the brink of death
and returned. She would never see him again. Tears ran down her
face as her mind grew cold and distant. He was the reason she had
returned, and clung to life when she should have died. His promise
had held her in this cruel world, but he had broken it and left her
alone with the mental abyss of the Envoy’s scars, which threatened
to swallow her.

Scrysalza
brushed her mind with alien concern, sensing the loss that caused
her sorrow and the growing blankness inside her head. It rushed in
to heal the damage, closed doors that let in the shadows and sealed
them with soft light. It filled the emptiness with fluffy pinkness,
a blank something on which she could write her thoughts. Frivolous,
mundane ideas replaced the howling void in her head, simple
thoughts that blocked the threatening dimness, banishing it to wait
behind the sealed doors that led to the nothingness beyond. She
wiped away her tears as Scrysalza’s soothing presence dulled the
pain like ointment on a wound.

The Ship knew
all about pain. Its life thus far had been filled with it, yet it
had survived. So would she, it assured her, and she would grow
stronger from the suffering, just as the Ship had done. The scars
the Envoy had inflicted on Scrysalza were healing, and, as before,
it forgave the abuse quickly; already the memory of his domination
faded. Rayne’s scars were deeper, however, and permanent. It warned
her never to look behind the doors or court unhappiness that would
erode the seals of light it had put on them. Just as Rayne healed
flesh, the Ship could heal minds, and it had done its best for
her.

It also warned
her of the deep scars it had found in the man-thing’s mind, which
had never truly healed. Rayne’s reliance upon him was dangerous,
the Ship said. He was a broken staff; to lean on him was to court
calamity. It urged her to find someone who was reliable, dependable
and most of all, sane. Rayne agreed, since the advice was
unnecessary, but sounded good. She would never see him again. The
Ship made her promise to obey it before it turned its attention to
other things.

It was eager
to return to its home, and a brief leap into the first dimension
would transport it there. Rayne was reluctant to let it go; its
loss, so soon after Tarke’s, would only compound her sorrow.
Scrysalza offered to take her with it, and she gazed around the
vast breathing chamber with its soft breezes and gossamer mist,
wondering what it would be like to live in this strange
environment.

The Ship told
her it could provide whatever she wished, and its kin would be
delightfully curious about her. Rayne would be trapped within it,
however, unable to see the wonders outside, or to appreciate the
places it took her. She was fond of Scrysalza, but a gulf of
cultural and species differences yawned between them. No, she
decided, she must return to her own kind and make a life amongst
them. Should the Ship ever return, however, she would welcome it as
her friend.

Their leave
taking was long and heartfelt, steeped in the kind of sorrow that
cannot be expressed in words. Unlike Tarke’s abrupt, cold
departure, Scrysalza left her in no doubt of its sadness, which
made their parting that much harder to bear. She would always blame
him for leaving, but she could only share the Ship’s grief and give
it her own. When the sheath of light released her on Shadowen’s
bridge, her eyes stung with fresh tears. She sank onto her chair
and stared out at the massive crystalline entity that was her
friend, hardly hearing Shadowen’s soft greeting.

The beams of
brilliance that lanced from the Crystal Ship’s wings to slash space
no longer seemed alien and threatening, but merely majestic and
beautiful. The Ship hung like a huge, scintillating jewel against
the inky backdrop, outshining the stars, its filigree wings of
crystal radiance spread to catch the sun’s light. Its wings folded
and shrank as the vast crystal spears slid back into its body.
Rayne ignored the space line’s chiming, transfixed by the Ship’s
alien splendour, feasting her eyes on it in the last moments before
it vanished.

It departed
with startling suddenness. A shell of Net energy engulfed its light
for a moment, then it winked out of existence like a star in the
dawn sky. A ripple of warped space swept from it and rolled away,
leaving the area empty. Rayne bit her lip, fighting the tears that
threatened to overflow again, and ordered Shadowen to answer the
space line.

Tallyn
appeared on it, looking worried but triumphant. He smiled, his
black eyes studying her. “Are you all right?”

She returned
his smile, glad his first question at least showed some concern.
“Just tired.”

“
We were starting to worry. The Shrike left over an hour
ago.”

“
Did he? And you let him go?” She clicked her tongue in
feigned disapproval.

“
It didn’t seem like an appropriate time.”

“
I should think not. I had some unfinished business, that’s
all.”

Tallyn’s
triumphant smile widened. “You did it.”

“
I had help.”

“
But you killed it.”

“
Not exactly. It’s a long story, and I’m really tired. I’d
like to rest before I face an enquiry, okay? The Ship’s returned to
its galaxy, and Atlan’s safe.”

Tallyn nodded,
trying to hide his disappointment rather unsuccessfully, and she
broke the connection. She sighed and leant back, gazing at the
stars.

“
What I need right now, Shadowen, is to sleep for a
week.”

“
Feel free,” the ship replied.

Rayne rose and
stumbled to her cabin, where she flung herself down on the bed and
fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Chapter Thirteen

Tarke leant
back in a comfortable chair in his plush lounge on Ironia and
watched the vidfilm that played on the screen. It had been tapped
from an Atlantean space line feed, on its way to Mansure. The girl
looked tired. Her eyes had lost their sparkle and her demeanour was
lacklustre. Of the many vidfilms he had tapped from Atlan, this one
revealed more than most about her inner thoughts. It had been
pirated almost a year ago, and there had been no more since then.
He rubbed his nose, running a finger along the bridge and enjoying
the sensation. She had dropped out of sight, shunning the public
eye, but had not eluded his spies.

The vidfilms
they had taken were even more disturbing. He flicked a switch with
his mind to access another recording. It showed the dim interior of
a club, thronging with bright-eyed patrons. The rich and debauched,
clad in glittering finery, their hair sculpted into impossible,
sometimes revolting shapes. Most wore too much jewellery, and
crystals were all the rage since the Crystal Ship had turned away
from Atlan and vanished. A nearby sensation centre’s flashing
lights made the vidfilm grainy as the tiny light sensor tried to
compensate. The man who wore it weaved through the throng with
experienced adroitness, shoving aside those he could not avoid.

Tarke could
almost smell the cloying stench of Bliss, a common euphoric, and
the acrid smoke of Twisters, the latest mind-altering cigarette.
Throbbing, sensual music pulsed like a heartbeat, adding its cheap
brand of eroticism to the already sweaty crowd. He glimpsed her
pale hair as someone shoved his spy aside in his turn, then the
camera focussed on her briefly, and he froze the picture. She had
cut her hair, which hung only to her shoulders now, and a fringe
partly obscured her eyes. The application of too much lip colour
and eye enhancer gave her an exotic look, but he disliked it. Her
eyes had the glazed dullness of someone on drugs, but he could not
tell which one.

The door
buzzer sounded, and he picked up the mask on the table beside his
chair and clipped it on. He ordered the lights to brighten as he
released the door lock. Vidan entered, glancing at the screen on
the far wall as it went black and slid into its slot, revealing the
tasteful oil colour of an alien landscape behind it. He sat on the
broad white sofa opposite Tarke and tossed a crystal scribe pad
onto the polished red wood table with a sigh, eyeing his boss.