Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship (27 page)

“
Are you in one of your moods?”

“
What moods?”

“
The ones you get into when you watch that girl. Bad
ones.”

“
Ah.” Tarke tilted his head. “No.”

“
Why don’t you just bring her here, then you can watch the
real thing?”

“
Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Vidan rubbed
his brow. “It is my business. It’s making you crazy, and she’s
going to kill herself soon.”

“
No, she won’t.”

“
Why don’t you talk to her, at least?”

“
And tell her what? That I can’t have her near me, because if
I do, sooner or later I’m going to say too much? I just like to
keep track of her, that’s all. There’s no harm in that.”

Vidan shook
his head and rose to pour himself a glass of fizzy blue Nebrian pod
juice, returning to sit opposite again. “If you think I believe
that, you’re a fool. You should bring her here. Let her find out;
hell, tell her the truth. Surely you don’t think she’d betray you
to Atlan?”

“
I can’t.”

“
Why?”

Tarke leant
forward to put his empty glass on the table. “Did you come in here
to discuss business, or make a nuisance of yourself?”

“
Both. She’s going to kill herself.”

“
I don’t think so.”

“
Do you know what that was she was on?”

Tarke
shrugged. “Bliss, probably.”

“
No. That was Mainline, Wormhole or Void.”

“
How would you know? A glimpse of her isn’t enough to make
that kind of judgement.”

Vidan sipped
his drink and snorted. “You don’t want to see it. That’s why you
haven’t. You should be able to spot it even better than me. The
shaking. You saw her hands.”

“
The picture was still. You couldn’t see that.”

“
I’ve watched that vidfilm.”

The Shrike
jumped up and crossed the room, his hands clenched. “So what must I
do about it? It’s her life. She can make her own decisions. If she
wants to take drugs, who am I to stop her? What right do I have to
interfere?”

“
If you’re not concerned, why do you spy on her?”

“
I am concerned, but I’m not going to tell her what to
do.”

“
She looks like she could use the advice.”

Tarke went to
the refreshment dispenser to pour himself another glass of frothy
pink Drell essence, a concoction of rare alien fruit juices that
cost over a hundred regals a litre. “She has a big brother. He
should be looking after her.”

“
Our latest information is that he’s taken a Mansurian wife
and settled down on Darmor. Damn it, Tarke, it’s been two years
since the Crystal Ship left. What harm could it do to see her
again?”

“
She should have settled down too.”

“
But she hasn’t, and you know damn well why.” Vidan studied
his boss. “She needs you just as much as you need her, and you’re
the one who’s too thick to admit it. Why are you being so
stubborn?”

Tarke returned
and flopped onto his chair. “Why are you being so bloody
irritating?”

“
Because you’re being so bloody stupid.”

The Shrike
snorted, staring at his drink. “Shall I tell you how she defeated
the Envoy? I left out a vital detail in my telling of it, you know.
She didn’t just distract him while the Ship poisoned him, she was
killing him. She’s a damned empath.”

Vidan closed
his eyes, shaking his head. “That poor kid.”

“
Exactly. We all know why empaths are so rare, don’t we? Even
the Shyanese don’t number it amongst their skills. I’ve heard that
any kittens born with it are not allowed to breed. Can you imagine
what she’d go through if she got close to me? I’m the ultimate in
damaged goods. But besides that... I’d be as much use to her as a
walking stick to a paraplegic. You want to bring her here, into
this den of sordid pasts and painful memories? She’d go
crazy.”

“
She’s already going crazy. Why do you think she’s taking
drugs? Damn it, you know what that stuff does. You’re the one
person who can block her empathy. You’ve got mental shields no one
can penetrate. Do you really want to leave her out there, at the
mercy of all the unsavoury characters who haunt those
places?”

Tarke banged
his drink down, slopping it. “Enough. What’s on the scribe
pad?”

Vidan sat
back, his face becoming blank. “Shipping rosters and orders.”

“
Do I need to look at them?”

“
Not unless you want to.”

Tarke sat
back, crossing his legs. “I don’t. Deal with them.”

“
Right.” Vidan stood up, hesitated, and opened his
mouth.

“
The subject is closed,” Tarke said, and the chubby man nodded
and left.

Rayne gazed
around the smoky club with aching eyes, allowing the pounding beat
of the hypno-music to do its work on her senses. The mixture of
that, the euphoric smoke and the Mainline in her bloodstream
blended to form a pleasant numbness. It was one of the few ways in
which she could escape her empathy, and her sizeable fortune
allowed her to indulge herself as often as she wished. Atlan kept
her in luxury, providing houses on any planet she wanted to visit,
and enough money to buy as many clothes, jewels and drugs as she
could hang about her or ingest. No amount of money could buy her
happiness or acceptance, however. Her slinky silver blouse,
silver-studded black jeans and high-heeled black suede ankle boots
cost a small fortune, but brought her no joy.

The discovery
of her enhanced empathic powers had changed her life after her
encounter with the Envoy. He had opened channels that allowed her
to sense people’s emotions even without touching them, and the
scars of her mental suffering had heightened her reactions. The
Ship’s healing had covered the dangerous cracks that might
otherwise have opened and swallowed her sanity, but they were still
there, under a thin layer of light. After discovering its negative
effect on people, she had tried to hide her ability, but word had
spread, and occasionally she gave herself away.

For a time,
the media frenzy and instant fame had satisfied her. She had
enjoyed the attention and flattery. She had even thought she was
helping people. Soon, however, she had realised that she was only a
novelty to be stared at and holographed. She had grown tired of the
lack of privacy and endless, prying questions asked over and over
again, the barrage of flashing holocameras that met her at every
venue. Rawn had stuck by her, trying to hide his aversion for her
new ability, just as she had struggled to hide it from him. Her
empathy had made that impossible, however, and eventually she had
left to spare him the pain.

Tallyn had
remained at her side, but his aloof, clinical approach had become
grating. When she had grown tired of the endless parties and empty
conversations, the false smiles of uncaring people, she had taken
Shadowen and fled the Atlantean domain, finding a quiet backwater
planet. For a while she had found peace, and even tried to start a
relationship with a man, but that had been a dismal failure,
perhaps the worst side effect of empathy. She left the planet for a
different sort of life amongst the anonymous rich who thronged
pleasure palaces to buy their thrills. After a few experiments, she
had discovered the drugs that dulled her empathy, and took them in
large quantities. She ignored the dangerous widening of the cracks
within her mind and how her loneliness chipped away at the
light.

Her life was a
mess, but there was little she could do about it. Many people had
assured her that empaths were cursed. Their ability often drove
them to suicide when they could no longer stand the pain of
rejection, and she could certainly understand it. One day, she told
herself, Scrysalza would return, and this time she would board the
Crystal Ship and go back to its nebula with it, or ask it to take
her back to Earth, two thousand years ago. The loneliness of living
with an alien entity, or amongst strangers on Earth, would be
nothing compared to the solitary existence she led now.

Friends were
people she knew until they discovered her empathy, then they became
worse than strangers. No one wanted to be around someone who could
sense their every emotion, and, no matter how hard she tried, she
could not hide her reactions. She had taken to wearing an empath’s
spiral pendant, and found that it stemmed the advances of people
who would later shun her. With every rebuff, however, the cracks
widened, and sometimes, when she was deep in the clutches of the
numbing drugs, the doors opened and let in the howling
emptiness.

A portly man
in garish finery approached her, and she eyed him dully. Several
people close by, who knew what she was, took an interest. He
flopped down next to her, bestowing a gold-toothed smile upon her.
His lust hung about him like a sordid odour, mixed with an
egotistical urge to seduce an attractive and obviously drugged
woman. He was rich, powerful, and seldom rejected, she sensed, and
he did not expect to be now.

She said, “I’m
not interested, so piss off.”

Several nearby
patrons sniggered, and the man reddened. “I wondered if you’d like
to dance.”

“
That’s not what you really want.”

“
How...?”

Rayne held up
her pendant, and he blanched, jumped up and hurried off. She lay
back and closed her eyes, hating her tawdry existence, which only
offered the appearance of normality until someone accosted her for
the wrong reasons. Even those who were friendly and apparently
harmless had some hidden agenda. She had returned to Farlaw a year
ago to speak to Endrix, but the entity had no solution to offer
her. His masters had been empaths, but they had not mixed with
those who were not.

The Mainline
was wearing off, and she sat up to empty another vial into her
glass of Mansurian wine. As she lifted the almost lethal concoction
to her lips, several onlookers muttered in wonder. Her healing
ability allowed her to ingest enough of the drug to kill most
people. It would eventually kill her too, but her mind’s growing
blankness was already akin to death.

A hand clamped
around her wrist, preventing her from completing her action, and
she turned to glare at her assailant, surprised that she had not
sensed his approach. A black mask glittered in the smoky gloom, and
he leant closer so she could hear him above the music.

“
Surprised?”

Rayne gasped,
her mind going blank with shock. He hauled her to her feet and
headed for the door, towing her after him. People stared at him as
he passed, for his plain black garb stood out amid their garish
finery, and he moved amongst them like a shadow. They reached the
door in record time, since people tended to step aside when they
saw him coming, and he shoved those who did not out of the way.

Outside, he
marched down a wide, well-lighted passage, his long strides forcing
her to trot. A dozen stupid thoughts crowded her mind, the most
pressing of which was the fact that her drink was slopping out of
the glass she still clutched. She did not know what to do with it,
and the problem occupied her all the way to the private room at the
end of the passage. By then, most of the wine had spilt onto her
hand. The room was a luxurious lounge that visiting dignitaries and
wealthy moguls used for business meetings, with pale grey, speckled
walls, a deep crimson carpet and a selection of stylish but insipid
modern art on the walls. He released her wrist and turned to face
her. Rayne gaped at him, her mind numb. Her hand shook, and more
wine spilt over it, so she used her other hand to steady it.

Tarke took the
glass away and put it on a table. “You bloody imbecile. What are
you trying to do to yourself?”

Rayne shook
her head, struggling to find words in the morass of her mind.
Hiding her trembling hands behind her back, she remembered how he
had told her to heal herself on the ship, so long ago. If only she
could do that now, but banishing the effects of a drug was much
harder than healing wounds.

Tarke
sauntered away to stop beside a velvet chair. He was waiting for an
answer. She knew him well enough to understand his silence. Her
tongue came to life, and she blurted, “What are you doing
here?”

“
I would have thought that was obvious. I certainly don’t have
business with these pleasure junkies. You didn’t answer my
question.”

“
You want to know what I’m doing to myself?” She tottered over
to another deep purple velvet chair and sank onto it. “I haven’t
the foggiest idea. As far as I know, nothing. Just living.
Existing. Trying to forget the past. What else is there? Why does
it concern you, and how did you know where I was?”

He sat on the
chair opposite. “So the Atlanteans didn’t take care of you. I
thought they would.”

“
Oh, they did. I’m rich. If I go back there, I’m a celebrity,
just like you said. They trot me out at functions to kiss babies
and shake hands. I even met the Council of Elders, a great
honour.”

He snorted.
“But they didn’t give you a life.”

“
Not one I wanted. You didn’t answer my question.”

“
Which one?”

“
Take your pick.”

“
I have spies.” He leant forward. “Do you want my
help?”

“
No.” She forced herself to stand up, fighting the lethargy
Mainline bestowed, and teetered towards the door. “You’re a
cold-hearted bastard, and you should have stayed away.”