Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship (28 page)

He reached the
door before her and blocked her way. “You’ve got a right to be
angry with me.”

“
I’m glad you think so.”

“
I’ve changed my mind.”

“
Good, the old one sucked.”

He shook his
head. “I’m going to keep my promise.”

“
Has it been five hundred years already? How time
flies.”

“
Do you hate me now?”

Rayne sighed
and returned to her chair. Mainline had a tendency to make her
limbs tremble, and that, combined with his presence, meant her
knees were almost knocking together. She sat down as he took the
chair opposite again.

“
I don’t hate you,” she said. “I’m just bitter. You didn’t
want me around then, why would you now?”

“
What you have is worse than I can offer you. If you keep
doing it, you’ll die.”

“
Is what you have to offer so bad?”

He nodded.
“It’s pretty shabby.”

“
What are you offering, a crew position on one of your
ships?”

“
No.”

“
A labourer’s job on one of your bases?”

He chuckled.
“No.”

“
What could be worse than that? A toilet cleaner on one of
your space stations?”

“
No. It’s a different sort of job. The pay’s terrible, the
social life is limited and the perks are bad. It’s dangerous and
unrewarding, but it’s not strenuous or humiliating.” He paused. “At
least, I don’t think so.”

“
Have you done it before?”

“
No.”

She sighed,
rubbing her brow. “Well, then it can only be a job as a guinea pig
in one of your laboratories.”

“
A what?”

“
An animal human scientists used to test medicines
on.”

“
You’re joking.” He sounded shocked.

“
Of course I am. I wouldn’t take a job like that, even from
you.”

“
Good.”

“
So, I’ve run out of ideas. I give up. Surprise
me.”

He hesitated,
and she sensed a faint uncertainty leaking through his shields. “Do
you still want to stay with me?”

“
Yes.”

“
That’s not very illuminating.”

She threw up
her hands. “What else can I say? Do you really want me around? I’m
an empath, you know. Not many people want me around.”

“
I can deal with that.”

“
Yes, because you’ve got iron-clad shields. Even god doesn’t
know what you feel.” She studied the hated mask. “So, are you going
to tell me what this job is, or must I keep guessing?”

Tarke rose and
went over to the refreshment cabinet to pour two drinks. He
returned and handed her one, taking the chair opposite again. She
tasted it and grimaced at the bland flavour of a fruit juice. Tarke
put his glass on the table, untouched. Once again, she sensed a
faint uncertainty from him, and a hint of tension.

He laced his
fingers. “You must understand that this position is purely for the
sake of convenience. I’m offering it to you to keep you safe from
my enemies, because once I’ve revealed my secrets to you, they
might target you. It will give you a great deal of power, and
you’ll have a permanent home on any of my planets.

“
I think you deserve more than the Atlanteans have given you.
Money doesn’t buy happiness or acceptance. It only buys that filthy
drug you’ve been taking. A slow death by drug addiction is not a
fitting end for the Golden Child. In return, I’ll expect your
undivided loyalty, and you’ll have mine. You won’t be able to
return to Atlan, ever.”

She stared at
him, surprised by this long speech. “I don’t want to return to
Atlan. So what is this damned job, anyway?”

He seemed to
study his hands, then, to her surprise, he pulled off his gloves
and put them on the table. “I’m offering to make you my wife.”

“
Your what?”

“
Wife.”

Rayne shook
her head, wishing she was not so full of Mainline. She pinched
herself and winced, then stared at her shaking hands. Surely she
was passed out in the club, and this was just a dream? It could not
be happening. It made no sense. The silence lengthened, but she
could not think of anything to stay. She waited for him to say
something else, hoping it would spark a reaction in her empty head.
Sometimes shock brought on spells like this, when the howling void
of the Envoy’s absence returned and the scars of his pain swallowed
her reason. The drugs had made it worse, gradually opening the
doors to those blank spaces where the memory of her battle dwelt.
His voice jerked her back to reality like a pin jabbed into her
flesh.

“
You don’t like the idea.”

“
I don’t know what the idea is,” she retorted. “Is this a
joke?”

“
No.” He bowed his head and studied his hands again. “I had
hoped this was a way to help you. It’s also the only way I can
reveal my secrets to you. Think of it as a job, a position that’s
vacant and never going to be filled, otherwise.”

“
Why?”

He shrugged.
“A technical detail. I’ve studied your culture, and found that this
was once an important institution amongst your people. It was
amongst mine, too. In this situation, it serves to gain my people’s
protection, which you’ll need. If I’m to reveal my secrets to you,
you’ll have to be as well protected as I am, for my safety will
depend on yours.”

“
I see.” She picked up her drink and sipped it, not tasting
it. Her hands shook, slopping it, and she put it down. The silence
lengthened as the blankness threatened to overwhelm her again, and
she said the first thing that popped into her head, to stave it
off.

“
I need to think about it.” As soon as she said it, she wished
the words unspoken, for she did not need to think about it at
all.

“
Of course.” He stood up, pulling on his gloves. “We’ll go to
one of my bases, where we can discuss this in more comfort. You’ll
feel better once the drug’s out of your system, more able to
think.”

Rayne followed
him into the next room, where a transfer pad gleamed on the floor
like a pool of quicksilver. She joined him on it, and when the
energy shell dispersed, she was on a ship’s bridge, almost
identical to Shadowen’s. Tarke stepped away from her and indicated
a corridor to the side.

“
Go and lie down in the cabin. Use the sleep
inducer.”

Rayne obeyed,
her mind still numb with shock. The numbness stayed with her, an
almost a permanent feature when she took Mainline, and the drug’s
enforced lethargy soon pushed her into the black abyss of
sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

When Rayne
woke, several hours had passed, according to the holographic clock
next to the bunk. Evidently they had reached their destination and
Tarke had switched the sleep inducer off. She splashed her face in
the tiny bathroom before going to the bridge. The ship orbited a
hostile planet, the fourth child of a weak yellow dwarf star. As
she gazed at it without recognition, Tarke spoke from the pilot’s
chair.

“
Ironia. Do you remember it?”

“
This is where you brought me, after you bought me on
Gergonia,” she said.

“
Yes. The largest and best defended of my bases. It’s my
headquarters. I spend most of my time here, when I’m not chasing
slavers.”

Rayne leant
against a console as a wave of dizziness made her head swim.
Mainline withdrawal was painless, but she had not been eating well
for months. Tarke rose and went to the refreshment dispenser,
returning to hand her a glass of thick nutrition drink. She sipped
it, grimacing. It had a pleasant, creamy flavour, but her stomach
rebelled, demanding more Mainline. Tarke squeezed past her again to
return to his chair, leaving her to lean against a console. As she
sipped her drink, she noticed that the golden planet was drawing
closer as they sank towards it, the ship matching the speed of its
spin.

A slight jolt
told her the ship had hit the outer edge of the atmosphere, then
its attractors pulled them through it with a brief flare of fire
over the screens. They descended rapidly, and the bio-dome came
into view as they passed through a thin layer of clouds. It gleamed
like a vast pearl half sunk in a golden sea of sand. The dome doors
opened in a yawning oblong void, into which they sank, the doors
rolling closed above them. Lights came on, triggered by their
arrival, to illuminate a modern hangar filled with equipment.
Vapour rolled off the hull in white clouds as warm air was pumped
in, melting the ice on the ship’s skin, which had collected on the
way through the atmosphere.

Tarke watched
the information scrolling up on the many holograms around his
chair, waiting for the atmosphere outside to match the one within
the ship. As she finished her drink, he rose to his feet and
motioned for her to precede him to the door. It opened when she
reached it; the steps glided out and sank into their positions on
antigravity units.

Rayne
descended the steps and stopped. A flood of black-uniformed people
streamed into the hangar. Most went straight to their workstations,
but some paused to gaze at the man who exited the ship behind her.
Although their expressions were guarded, she sensed the adoration
from them now, as she had not done before. Tarke took her arm and
led her across the hangar, inclining his head to those who bowed or
nodded to him. They passed through the huge room with the glass
office, then entered the corridor that led to the living quarters
where she had been held prisoner.

Rayne had lost
track of the many turns and crossroads they had traversed by the
time he approached a door that opened ahead of him, admitting them
into the tastefully decorated rooms where she had met him to ask
for a ship. He led her to a cluster of comfortable dun chairs
around a low crystal table and indicated that she should sit. When
she did, he went to a console in a corner and studied several
holograms that scrolled up from it. Apparently satisfied, he
returned to sit on a chair opposite, the mask glittering in the
bright, warm light.

“
Would you like something to eat or drink?” he
asked.

She shook her
head.

“
Hold out your hands.”

Rayne obeyed,
revealing the slight tremor that still affected them.

Tarke turned
his head towards the door. “There’s someone I want you to meet.
He’ll be here shortly, if he hurries. If he knows what’s good for
him, he’ll run. He’s the man I had to have mind wiped. I would
trust him with my life, but not my face. He’s been with me for more
than twenty years, and he runs most of the empire.” He faced her,
and she sensed a slight dissatisfaction from him. “Before he gets
here, would you like to freshen up? Perhaps wash your face?”

Remembering
the cosmetics she wore, she suppressed a smile and nodded. He
indicated a door, and she entered a sleek, blue and white bathroom
to study her reflection in the mirror. The eye enhancer gave her a
bruised, owlish look, and the lip colour was garish against her
pale skin. She washed it off and surveyed the result with a
grimace. It did not seem like much of an improvement. Her skin had
lost the golden tan it had gained from Earth’s sun, taking on the
pallor of a person who spent most of her time indoors. She had no
time to bask in the sun these days, since she was either in a club
or on her ship. She combed her hair and smoothed her brows; glad
her lashes were black, at least. Returning to the lounge, she
flopped back into her chair, and the Shrike studied her.

“
That’s better. You’re very quiet. Is anything
wrong?”

“
No. It’s just the tiredness that comes when I don’t take the
drug. It makes me very dull.”

“
That’s why it suppresses your empathy. Normal people use it
to dull their senses, too. They pass through life without even
noticing what’s going on around them. Why do they bother to live
like that? They might as well be dead.”

She nodded.
“My sentiments exactly.”

The door
chimed and opened. A short, chubby Atlantean with a jolly face and
merry brown eyes entered, his gaze lingering on her. He cast the
Shrike a smile as he approached them, radiating happiness and
satisfaction. Tarke turned to look up at him.

“
This is Vidan, my right-hand man and royal pain in the butt.
Vidan, this is Rayne, also known as the Golden Child.”

Vidan beamed
and bowed to her. “I’m pleased to meet you at last. I’ve seen -” He
stopped when Tarke coughed, and then said, “You can read me all you
want. I don’t mind.”

“
I don’t read people,” she replied. “I’m afraid I can’t help
what I sense.”

“
Hmm.” He sat on the chair beside her, his smile unwavering.
“Well, once you’re settled here, our people will accept you. They
know what it is to suffer. They’ll understand.”

“
Rayne hasn’t agreed,” Tarke told him, and Vidan’s smile
faltered.

“
You’ve refused?” He asked her, his expression
scandalised.

“
She wanted to think about it,” Tarke said.

“
But you’ve thought about it now, haven’t you?” Vidan
enquired, a hint of pleading in his voice. “There’s no reason to
refuse, I assure you. I -”

“
Vidan.” Tarke’s soft voice cut him off. “Let the girl make up
her own mind. It’s her life.”