In his Spartan quarters, the Shrike faced a space line screen and activated it with a flick of his thoughts. The wafer-thin crystal that stood on a graceful wand of pale green quartz filled with the chubby, cheerful face of his most trusted friend and second in command. The man's eyes twinkled and his grin revealed square white teeth.
"Well, it's good to see you. Where are you?"
"Ironia. I have the bait, Vidan. Set up the meeting."
Vidan sobered. "You're sure he'll go for it?"
"I'm sure. She's perfect. I paid a hundred thousand for her on Gergonia."
Vidan pursed his lips in a silent whistle. "She must be perfect. I'll contact Urquat."
"Make sure he knows the deal. Jamdar must bring two hundred low-grade slaves, rejects, cripples, burn outs, I don't care, but he must meet Urquat in person. Find out where and when, then contact me."
"You sure Urquat can be trusted?"
"He knows what will happen to him if he betrays me, and he's being paid handsomely for the cover, so why would he betray me?"
Vidan shook his head. "Okay, but I'll need something to whet Jamdar's appetite. He'll want to see the goods."
"I'll transmit a holoimage."
"Right."
The Shrike turned away as the screen went dead and retracted into its slot.
When no one came for several hours, Rayne decided that she had been left alone for the day and tried to pry off the lock plate on the door, but it foiled her. She cursed it, boredom and frustration fraying her temper. She turned her attention to the rest of the complex, determined to find an egress of some sort, an air duct or maintenance hatch. After searching all the rooms, she came to the disquieting conclusion that the apartment had been designed as a prison.
Sitting on the sofa, she thought about that. It meant the Shrike kept prisoners here, which did not reflect well on his character. She found it strange that he had locked her in here; it did not strike her as the usual quarters for a slave. The rooms seemed to be designed to look like guests' quarters, but to imprison anyone in them.
She jumped as the door opened to admit the Shrike, who glanced around at the disarray her search had caused.
"I trust you've been having fun?"
She glared at him. "What sort of man keeps his guests in a carefully designed prison?"
"A real guest would never know, since they wouldn't try to escape. But you're not a guest, are you?"
"Then you should have put me in the slave pen, with the rest of your slaves. As for your guests, I pity them. Just because you're a crook, you think everybody else is, too."
"Most of the people I know are, and they're not the sort I want wandering around my base."
"So you lock them up."
He shrugged. "If they find themselves locked up, it's only because they tried to escape."
His logic confounded her, and she frowned. "How long are you going to keep me here? Don't you have any use for me? And if not, why did you buy me? Was I an investment?"
He faced her, and she longed to tear off the mask and see his face, its mystery ate at her. She went on, "Why don't you sell me again? Make your dirty profit. Perhaps the next person will be more helpful than you and take me home."
"If you believe that, you're not as smart as I thought you were. Or perhaps you're just naive."
"Does that reduce my value? I'm not stupid. Others would do it for the reward, ones that don't have a price on their heads. You should sell me while you can, Tallyn will be looking for me."
He folded his arms and leant against the wall. "He won't find you."
"You don't know that. The council will send a search party."
"What makes you so important to the Atlanteans? Why did they save you and your brother?"
She rose and wandered away, buying time to formulate an answer. Stopping beside a shelf, she fiddled with an ornament. The few moments did not allow her to come up with anything intelligent, so she settled for hostility. "Wouldn't you like to know? Figure it out for yourself, if you can."
"Maybe I'll have someone look into it."
"They won't find out. Only a few people know, and they won't talk."
"So, it's a big secret, is it?" He pushed himself away from the wall. "I'll bet Drevina knows. She seems to know everything. And she doesn't usually sell her merchandise herself. I was surprised to see her on Gergonia, at least, at a slave market. She's been to a few of the more unsavoury parties, but she's not a great business woman."
"She doesn't know anything," Rayne denied, but he crossed the room towards a blank wall. As he approached, a panel slid aside and a space line screen emerged.
"Okay, I'll tell you," she blurted, desperate to stop him, and he turned to her. "We're the last humans. They wanted to save our genetic data for future generations, a sort of legacy. They created us, after all."
"You're brother and sister."
"Yes, but our genes can still be used with others, and we were the only ones not mutated or diseased."
"Not very plausible, I'm afraid. Your genetic data would have been stored in a lab by now, and even if it wasn't, it's not that important. If the Atlanteans are so desperate to find you, they must have a better reason than that." He faced the screen and activated it, waiting until a link was established and a grey Draycon face filled it.
"Get me Drevina," he ordered.
Rayne chewed her lip, searching her mind for another lie that would satisfy him, but sensed he would go ahead with his call anyway. She was amazed at how quickly the Draycon woman appeared, wearing a false smile.
"Shrike, how nice to hear from you."
"Cut the crap, Drevina. Why did the Atlanteans rescue this girl I bought from you today?"
She looked smug. "You should have found that out before you bought her. Like so many others, you couldn't resist a pretty face, could you?
"I had my reasons for buying her, now tell me why."
"Kill her, and you won't have to worry about it."
He shook his head. "I paid a lot for her. I'm not about to do that."
"You will when I tell you what she is."
"So tell me."
Drevina said, "She's the Golden Child of Atlantean prophecy, destined to save the Atlantean Empire from ruin. They'll search every corner of this galaxy for her, and when they find her they'll kill you. Kill her or sell her, if you value your life. Why do you think I got rid of her so quickly?"
He broke the connection, banishing her smug visage, and the space line screen slid back into the wall as he turned to Rayne. "Wonderful. Why did you try to keep it a secret? It's the one thing guaranteed to make me want to get rid of you."
"Or kill me."
"No, I'd be more likely to ransom you back to them."
"Then why don't you? They'll pay it."
"I'm sure they would, but I have other plans for you. The Atlanteans won't find you that quickly. It's a big galaxy." He went over to a chair and sank into it. "Who else knows about this, apart from the Atlanteans?"
"No one, as far as I know, why?"
"It would be inconvenient."
"So what are you going to do now?"
He shrugged. "It doesn't change my plans. Things are already in motion, so it's a bit late now. We'll see what happens."
His evasiveness and mystery angered and frustrated Rayne. Although she could sense little from him in the way of moods, she did not think he was lying. He did not have to, he just told her nothing. An idea struck her, and she stretched forth her fledging telepathy in a clumsy attempt to read his mind. She sensed his thoughts under the surface of his consciousness, a seething cauldron of psychic activity normal for any mind. They were unintelligible to her inexperienced intellect, and she strived to unravel them.
A flash of red pain hit her behind her eyes, as if someone had thrust a hot poker into her brain. She staggered back with a yelp, clutching her temples. Her knees buckled, but the Shrike caught her before she hit the floor, gripping her arms. The pain vanished, leaving her dazed.
"You fool! Don't ever try that again." He lifted her and pushed her onto the couch. "I didn't know you were a damned telepath. I could have fried your brains, you idiot. Are you all right?"
Rayne nodded, her head pounding with an unbelievable migraine. He sat beside her, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on soothing the ache in her skull.
He said, "I though humans were incapable of telepathy. Whoever opened your mind to its powers did a very bad job of teaching you how to use them. They should have told you never to attempt such an obvious intrusion into a fellow telepath. I could have sworn you had no ability at all. You can't even hide your thoughts, although they are pretty clear. I should have realised."
The pain eased, and she opened her eyes, startled to find him so close, and even more surprised that his proximity did not disturb her. Instead, she found it exciting, and looked away as a wave of shyness washed over her.
He seemed to study her. "Is there anything else I should know about? I don't like surprises."
She rubbed her brow, frowning. "No, not really. Only that I'm a psy-healer."
"That's a rare talent."
"But I'm sure it doesn't change your plans, which, if you don't intend to make a huge profit by ransoming me back to the Atlanteans, can only mean you'll sell me to someone who will make me disappear forever, even if they don't kill me."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because, like Drevina, you stand to gain if Atlan falls. They've condemned you to death, and they hunt you. With them gone, you'd be free to do as you please."
"True," he agreed, "but I'm not Drevina. In fact, I have no liking for her at all, and a galaxy ruled by the Draycons is not a place I'd like to live in. The Atlanteans are a fair bunch, and their efforts to capture me have never caused me a problem. If Atlan fell, I'd more likely find myself at war with the Draycons, which wouldn't make me very happy."
"At war?" She snorted. "You mean wiped out! You're just a slaver. The Draycons have the second largest empire."
"They'd have a job wiping me out. My empire rivals theirs in size and is perhaps a little stronger in firepower."
She frowned. "That's impossible. I've been studying at the Atlantean library for years, and there's no mention of you in it at all."
"That doesn't surprise me. I'm sure there is, if you looked for it, but it's probably well hidden or classified. They don't like to admit that I exist. That's why they don't come looking for me. They know it would end up in a very bloody battle, and it's not worth it to capture one man. They'd rather wait for an opportunity to grab me when I'm away from my fleet and out of my territory, but that doesn't happen much."
"But you're an outlaw. How can you rule an empire?"
He shook his head. "I don't rule it exactly. I'm not a king or an emperor. It's an empire of wealth and ships and planets I've accumulated over the years. I have more ships than planets, and most of my people are fighters; outlaws, like me. Atlan and Draycon have massive civilian populations spread over many planets; a lot to protect with their fleets. The war between them was messy. Whole planets were wiped out before the Atlantean ships could reach them. I have a few more planets like this one; well hidden, where my crews are able to have families and holidays, but they spend most of their lives in space."
He paused, and Rayne urged, "Go on."
"That's about it. What else do you want to know?"
"How did you become the leader of your empire?"
"I built it. People flocked to my banner, you could say. It's taken fifty years to get this big, but it's still growing, because I keep building ships. I'm far less vulnerable than Atlan or Draycon. My planets are all well-guarded, since I have only a few of them."
"If you've had an empire for fifty years, you must be pretty old," she said.
"Not really. I'm a hundred and twenty-eight, which isn't old, considering I should live to see five hundred if Tallyn doesn't find me."
"Do you ever take that mask off?"
"Only in private,” he said. “It has filters to purify the air, and can protect me from some noxious gasses."
"Are you Atlantean?"
"No. My race is extinct, like yours."
"What happened to them?"
He looked away. "It's not something I like to talk about."
The Shrike rose to his feet, forestalling further questions, and wandered around the room, rearranging the things she had untidied in her search. She turned to watch him as he moved with cat-like grace. He righted a couple of ornaments, then went over to a wall and straightened a picture before facing her again.
"I have things to do. Food will be brought to you at the appropriate time."
After he left, she stared at the door for a while, startled by his abrupt exit.
The Shrike sat before a space line screen in his private sanctum, a gloved finger tracing the edge of his mask. The room’s tranquil ambience stemmed from its subdued decor of grey-blue walls and cream and glass furniture, recessed lighting and grey moss carpet. The plump, jovial face that filled the screen looked worried, and Vidan’s tone was unhappy.
"I agree, it all seems legitimate, but it's awfully risky. Is it really worth it to get Jamdar? You'll be out of your territory, with only one ship. You can't bring more without them being spotted, and if Urquat decides to rat you out Jamdar will have you."
"I want Jamdar," the Shrike said. "He's taken the bait. This is the closest I've ever come to cornering that slimy bastard. No one will suspect anything, it's a legitimate takeover. The only risk is in the kill itself."
"Because you insist on doing it yourself."
"It's my decision. I don't have the right to risk someone else’s life."
Vidan grimaced. "What if you’re killed? You're the most important person around here, you know. Others would give their lives for you. I'd do it myself!"
"I know you would. When is the meeting set for? We might have to rush this; certain other factors have come to light."
"Two days from now. Why? What other factors?"
The Shrike shook his head. "Nothing to be concerned about."
"When you say things like that, it only makes me more suspicious. I need to know all the circumstances surrounding this deal, or I'll pull the plug, I swear. If it's more dangerous than it seems, I need to know about it."
"You can't pull the plug."
"I could warn Jamdar."
"You'd do that?"
Vidan puffed out his cheeks. "If I thought it would save your life, yes."
"I should fire you." The Shrike sighed. "All right, it's the bait. It seems she's important to Atlan. They're looking for her, so I need to do this tomorrow, then they can have her back."
"Are you nuts?" Vidan's brown eyes widened in an almost comical expression of horror. "You're going to meet Jamdar with the damned Atlanteans on your tail?"
"They're not on my tail. It'll take them a few more days to find out I've got her, even if they grab Drevina. Then they have to try to find out which of my bases she's on. I just want this over and her off my hands before they start making a nuisance of themselves. Set up the meeting for tomorrow. Tell Jamdar it's a one-day deal."
"You are nuts. All right, I'll do it, but personally, I hope Jamdar tells you to go stick it."
"Thanks. Get back to me as soon as it's set."
Vidan snorted, and the space line went blank. The Shrike stared at it for a few minutes, then rose and left the sealed room in which he conducted his most secret communications.
Rayne looked up as the door opened to admit the Shrike, who moved with his usual unhurried grace. After a good supper, she had slept well and woken refreshed. Since her nights were not in sync with the planet's, dawn had not yet broken, and she had filled the time watching an entertainment vidfilm, nibbling on snacks. If anything, her prison was more comfortable than Tallyn's house. The Shrike glanced at the large, millimetre-thick crystal screen on which the vidfilm played, and it went black. The screen slid back into its socket, and Rayne shot him a frown.
"Come." He gestured towards the door, indicating that she should precede him through it. She put down her packet of snack bits, the alien equivalent of crisps, and rose to approach him. As she stepped into the corridor, the crazy urge to run took hold, but the sensation was short lived, for such an action was foolhardy and doomed from the outset. The prospect of discovering her fate cheered her somewhat as she strode ahead of him.
"Where are we going?"
"Just for a walk. I thought you'd like to see the base, get some fresh air, and stretch your legs."
A tart retort leapt onto her tongue, but she bit it back. It would be foolish and prideful to scorn his effort to make her comfortable, to say nothing of churlish and ungrateful. Instead, she gazed around at the scenery. People, whom she assumed were slaves, since they all wore collars, bowed to him as he passed, smiling. Most were Atlantean, but some had alien features and a few were truly unusual. They left the building, and he led her to a sleek gravcar. Dawn tinged the dome with delicate pink as the sun neared the horizon, brightening the sky outside. She found the car's confines uncomfortable, acutely aware of the man beside her.
The Shrike guided the car along a smooth black street towards the growing light, passing uniform, square buildings where people were just starting the day's work. They approached the edge of the dome, and he steered the vehicle onto a grassy area bordered by flowering trees. He parked it and climbed out, waiting for her to join him. Standing beside him, she gazed out through the clear barrier, enthralled by the desert's beauty.
After a few minutes, the sun touched the horizon with a line of liquid gold, then rose in a blaze of glory as the dust that flew in the bitter wind turned the sky into a medley of red, yellow, magenta and pink. The scant clouds were painted with the wonderful reflections of these colours, a paler counterpoint to the masterpiece. The huge orb of the magnified sun blazed at the centre, a great gold coin rising over the horizon.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the Shrike murmured.
Rayne nodded, unable to speak. The brilliant rays turned the desert into a blazing golden platter; a gilded anvil that belied the cold that seeped through the dome.
"Even the most hostile environment has its beauty. I'm sure you've never seen such a glorious sunrise," he commented.
"No, I haven't."
"It's hard to imagine people living out there, isn't it?"
"Do they?"
"Yes. A few hundred lost, scarred souls, too hostile to live in a normal environment anymore."
Rayne went over to the low wall and leant on it. She wondered what kind of people would live in the golden desert with its swirling dust.
She glanced at the Shrike. "How do those people live out there?"
The Shrike clasped his hands behind his back. "I give them food and water."
"Why don't they live here, with the others?"
"They can't." He turned his head towards her, and apparently noticed her puzzled look. "You would never understand. You're an innocent in a cruel universe. You have no idea what goes on."
"So tell me."
"No. You'll find out, but not from me."
Rayne swung away, angered by his refusal to explain even this. He watched the sunrise until the colours faded, then returned to the gravcar. She followed, sitting beside him with a shiver. He seemed unaware of her discomfort, although he ensured that no contact was made. He touched the controls, and the car rose.
The Shrike took her on a tour of the city, pointing out the agriculture and the rig that pumped water from far beneath the planet's crust. Workers' houses lined the roads in residential suburbs, each surrounded by a little patch of flowering greenery. Rayne wondered why he spent so much time with a slave, but knew she would not get an answer. Thoughts of escape still plagued her, but even if she could get out of the dome, she would perish in the desert. The more she pondered the problem, the larger it grew, and even getting out of the dome was almost impossible. There was only one well-guarded airlock.
At noon, they returned to the apartment, where the Shrike ordered lunch from the dewy-eyed slave girl who cleaned it. She appeared to be Atlantean, a lower cast with almost monotone brown hair and dark green eyes, her skin a dusky gold and her figure willowy. She smiled at him with such blatant flirtation that Rayne was embarrassed for the girl's sake, but when the slave glanced at Rayne her eyes turned into chips of ice.
Rayne waited for her to leave before turning to her captor. "Your slave seems to be rather hostile. Does she think I'm going to replace her or something? Is she afraid of being sold?"
"Slave? Oh, I see. No, nothing like that. She might be jealous. A lot of them are somewhat possessive."
"Jealous? Of you?" She laughed. "How can they be jealous of a man who hides behind a mask? A man who is their master?"
He stalked over to the bar and poured a drink. "I don't know."
Rayne was delighted to have found something that made him uncomfortable, eager for a way to avenge her humiliation at his hands. "So you think your female slaves are in love with you? You must have an enormous ego." She giggled, but her amusement vanished when he strode over to her, making her step back in surprise and trepidation.
"You would never understand," he said. "You may be innocent – perhaps too innocent – but you're also ignorant."
The Shrike thrust a glass at her, and she took it with trembling hands, unable to stem her reaction to his angry proximity. Her heart slowed as he moved away and sat on the sofa, and she took several deep breaths to calm herself. A gulp of the liquid in her glass made her cough, surprised by its alcohol content. He watched her as he lifted his glass to the region of his mouth.
Rayne stared, fascinated, as a hinged portion of the mask allowed the glass to touch hidden lips. After a pause, she sat opposite him, uncertain of what to say. His sudden anger had sent her hard-won confidence scuttling into a dark corner of her mind, leaving her timid and unsure. An uncomfortable silence ensued, which the re-entry of the serving girl with lunch broke. The Shrike watched her, and must have noticed the icy glance she shot Rayne.
After the maid left, he poured the wine and passed Rayne a plate of roast pseudo-fowl and steamed vegetables, leaving her to stew in her curiosity. He slid aside a portion of the mask to eat, but the darkness within was too deep for her to glimpse anything. About halfway through the meal, he asked about her life on Earth, and appeared to be interested in her stories. After several tales, she decided to see if he would respond in kind.
"Why did you rescue me from the store guards, that day on Earth, and why didn't you capture me then?"
"I wasn't there looking for slaves or booty. I was just curious, and stopped over for a few hours, no more. I pitied your people and their fate, but I didn't want to interfere. I admit, I was tempted to take you away from that terrible place, but I wasn't sure how you'd react. Some people prefer to die with their world. Saving an intelligent being isn't the same as rescuing a starving Versar kitten. That awful place might have unhinged you, or the shock of being taken from your world might have driven you mad.
"I didn't want to be responsible for that, and my ship wasn't equipped for acclimatising or decontaminating aliens. The environment you lived in was pretty hostile. It gave me a nasty rash, even though I was only in it for a few minutes. I did you a small favour, which I hoped would help you, but I couldn't do more than that. Besides, the place was getting crowded, and the Atlantean ship was coming dangerously close to detecting mine."
"You were lucky they didn't see you. They had me under surveillance," she commented.
"If they'd been watching, they would have done something about it if they wanted to collect you. I watched the chase for several minutes before I intervened. I hoped you'd escape on your own."
She smiled. "When you appeared in front of me, I thought you were an autocrat."
"Tell me about them."
Rayne obliged while she ate her lunch, whose flavour was far superior even to the finest pseudo-meat she had consumed on Atlan. The Shrike appeared to be interested, made a few comments and asked questions. The wish to see his face redoubled as she talked, for she could only guess at his mood, other than polite interest. She wanted to ask him again to remove it, but sensed that he would not.
As soon as the flirtatious slave girl cleared away their empty plates, he left without explanation, only saying that he would see her later. She seethed inwardly at the unwelcome reminder that she was only a slave and unworthy of any kind of excuse, to be left alone when he felt like it, with no concern for her feelings. Her anger set her once more upon her endeavour to escape, and she set to picking the door lock with a thin-bladed knife she had purloined from the lunch table. She pried open the panel beside the door, but the mass of crystals and wires that resided within it confounded her. She prodded it with the knife, hoping to hit the right short circuit, but only succeeded in giving herself a nasty shock.
Rayne was nursing her tingling hand and glaring at the ruined panel when the Shrike returned. He noticed the damaged panel and shook his head.
"So, you've been busy again. Did you hurt yourself?"
She scowled at him. "I'll live. Do you think I'm just going to sit here and do nothing?"
"You won't have to do that much longer."
Her blood turned cold. "You're going to collar me."
"No. How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Slaves usually get collared, don't they?"
"Usually."
"So why should I expect anything different?"
He made a sound of disgust and turned away, sinking into a chair. "No reason, I suppose. Anyway, you're going to get your wish. I'm going to sell you. The sales been set up. It will take place within the next few hours."
A wave of intense dismay and terror swamped her, and she sat opposite as her legs shook. For some insane reason, perhaps because he had been so evasive before, she had not expected this. She fought a strong urge to beg him not to, her emotions conflicted. Her sale offered a slight hope of rescue, unless her next owner turned out to be the killer Drevina had hoped for. At least the Shrike did not seem to be such a person, yet she had asked to be sold. Now that it was about to happen, the prospect terrified her. He studied her stunned expression.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
"No! I want to go back to Atlan."
He nodded. "Of course, but that's not an option. You'll be quite safe, I assure you."
"How would you know? Once I'm sold, anything might happen to me."
"You wanted me to sell you."
"I've changed my mind. I'd rather stay with you. At least you're not a psychopathic killer, or so you say."
"I might have lied," he pointed out. "You also know that the Atlanteans have a better chance of finding you if I keep you, don't you?" She shrugged, and he continued, "Which is exactly why I have to sell you. I don't need the aggravation. You'll be safe, I promise. As soon as you're sold, I'll contact Tallyn and tell him who's got you, then he can rescue you."
Her brows rose, a stab of bitterness spoiling her joy. "That would be generous of you, if you weren't so obviously killing two birds with one stone. You make a profit and destroy a rival at the same time. A neat plan."
"What makes you think it's a rival and not a customer? How do you know I'm not just doing this to throw Tallyn off my trail? Or maybe even to help you, as I did on Earth?"
She hesitated. "If you only want to help me, why don't you just let me go?"
"I must admit, I do want my money back. But passing the information to Tallyn is to help you."
"And to get him off your trail."
He shrugged. "That too. But my reasons are irrelevant. The end result will be the same. You'll be returned to Atlan."
"Unless you're lying, or your rival decides to kill me before Tallyn can save me."
"Are all humans so pessimistic and suspicious?"
"I have my reasons," she said.
"Yes, I suppose you do. I debated the wisdom of telling you anything. Perhaps I shouldn't have. The damage is done, I suppose."
"You're a cold bastard, aren't you? You don't care what happens to me. I hope Tallyn does find you. I hope he kills you. In fact, I'll do all I can to help him."
The Shrike tilted his head, as if considering her, but she sensed no hint of his mood. She regretted her words, and wished she could call them back. Apart from the fact that she did not want him to be killed, for reasons she did not care to contemplate, her threat also gave him every reason to ensure that she could not help Tallyn. Not that she could do much, other than describe the world on which he had his base, but arid planets around yellow dwarf suns were common.
For some reason, his decision to sell her was hurtful, yet she did not understand why. Her confusion brought a wave of homesickness and self-pity, mixed with an unhealthy dose of shame at her worthlessness. A logical voice demanded to know why she would imagine a man like the Shrike, an alien, an outlaw and a slaver, would care about someone like her, but it did not salve her emotional reaction.
Two tears escaped down her cheeks, and she scrubbed them away, then glanced up when the Shrike rose and headed for the door. He paused there as if to say something, then turned and left.
Rayne rubbed her eyes, her emotional turmoil now including anger and embarrassment at her show of weakness. Going into the bathroom, she splashed her face, then returned to sit in the lounge and contemplate her future. If the Shrike kept his word, she would soon be back on Atlan and reunited with Rawn. If not, she could face any number of horrors. She regretted her ill-advised threat now, and resolved to take it back when next she saw him.
On Vengeance's bridge, Marcon looked up from his holograms and announced, "We've just received another signal, Commander, dead ahead again."
Tallyn’s looked grim. "Time delay?"
"Still more than two days."
"The same heading," Tallyn mused, his brows knotted.
"Do you want to call for an escort before we go any further into this area, sir?"
"No, continue."
Rawn asked, "What's so dangerous about where we're going?"
Tallyn turned to him. "The signal is leading us into an area of space that's notorious for outlaws and petty tyrants. That in itself isn't of great concern, since Vengeance is a battle cruiser and few can hope to match her. But we're heading into the territory of a particularly nasty and… powerful tyrant. Since we left Gergonia, the trail has led straight here, so there's little hope that it's going to change its heading now."
"So who is this tyrant you're so concerned about?"
"He's known as the Shrike, and he has a particularly bad reputation of hostility towards intruders. He has a large fleet, and is considered dangerous. No doubt one of his buyers purchased Rayne on Gergonia and took her to one of his bases. They have no reason to harm her, I assure you. As a valuable slave, she'll be treated well."
Rawn studied the commander's tense face. Since Rayne's abduction, Tallyn had put on a convincing facade of bluff confidence and unconcern, but Rawn could tell he was worried. He wondered how much of Tallyn's concern stemmed from Rayne's abduction, and how much was because she had fallen into the hands of this particular slaver. Putting aside his worries, Rawn asked the question that had been burning in his mind since they left Atlan.
"Just how are you tracking her? What's this signal you're following?"
Tallyn hesitated, shooting him a guilty look. "When you were brought to Atlan, you were both fitted with cyber implants. It's standard procedure, so one day you can be trained to use them to link with our data nets and such, but they also serve as beacons."
Rawn rubbed the spot above his left ear, which, although he had no scar there, was where the terrible headaches had started in the weeks after their testing and immunisation. Anger chilled him, but he quelled the hot words that sprang onto his tongue.
"Beacons. So you can always track us down."
"For your safety. We're your guardians. We have to be able to keep you safe."
"You didn't do a very good job with Rayne, did you?"
"A slip. It won't happen again, and we'll find her, I swear."
Rawn glared at him. "When you do, we're having these things taken out of our heads, got it?"
"If not for the beacon, we'd have very little chance of ever finding her again. That implant will save her life."
"You put these things in our heads without our permission, and you'll remove them if we tell you to!"
Tallyn made a calming gesture. "You can't have them removed. They're considered compulsory in our society. Without them, you wouldn't be able to use the space net, drive a car, hell, even some doors won't open for you. We all have one."
Rawn frowned at Marcon. "You do?"
Marcon nodded. "Most of the interfacing done here is through the implants. Atlanteans have them fitted at a young age, and they're used for most everyday transactions between us and machines. Cars, databases, medical facilities, purchasing, selling, whatever's done through the space net or with machines requires a cyber implant's codes. It's also how we convert our thoughts into signals that machines can understand."
"Then we'll keep that part of them, but the beacons must go."
"That's not for you to decide," Tallyn said. "Yours will be deactivated if that's what you want, but it's up to Rayne to make her decision. After what she's been through, she might want to keep it."
"Fine. As long as she knows what you did to her and has a choice, which she should have had in the first place. I don't like the fact that we were never consulted about it, asked if we wanted it, or even told we had the damned things. You treated us like animals."
Tallyn glanced at Marcon, unwilling to meet Rawn's angry eyes. Instead, he studied the holograms scrolling up in front of his lieutenant, trying to ignore Rawn's glare. He could not deny that what the council had ordered was wrong. The humans should have at least been told what had been done to them. The fact that Atlantean children were fitted without being consulted did not mean alien adults should be treated the same way.
After a short silence, Rawn asked, "What's this 'time delay' you were talking about earlier?"
"The beacon gives off a normal microwave signal," Tallyn explained. "It only travels at the speed of light. The ship on which Rayne travelled was moving much faster than light, so the signals were left behind, like bread crumbs on a path. The time delay is how long the signal had been travelling when we picked it up."
"Two days?"
"Well, that's almost how long she's been missing, so we're still following the track of her second abductor, the one who took her from Gergonia. Unfortunately, it took us a long time to pick up her trail from Atlan. But now that we're on the right track, it's only a matter of time before we catch up."
Rawn grunted and gazed across the bridge, wishing it was not taking quite so long. Every passing hour increased his worry. Their progress was slow, for in order to detect the signals, Vengeance had to decelerate and shed the energy shell. Even though they knew which direction the signals were heading in, they could not risk overshooting their destination and being forced to double back, perhaps losing the trail forever when the signals dispersed.