T Southwell - Prophecy

When it dispersed, she stood on a planet's surface. The increased gravity made her knees buckle, and the guards held her up. It must have been half again as much as Earth or Atlan, whose slightly stronger gravity she had grown accustomed to over the last four years. She stood at the edge of a vast transparent dome, and, beyond it, a desert strewn with rocks of varying shapes and sizes stretched away as far as the eye could see. It reminded her of Mars. A wind blew dust against the clear barrier with a soft hiss, and she sensed the aching cold beyond it.

Scudding clouds moved across the grim planet's dull grey sky, and the sun was a dim glow. She turned to look at the dome's interior, which a sprawling city filled. The air was calm and warm, and stunted trees bordered the road that led into the metropolis. The guards guided her between white buildings, some festooned with greenery. Skyways looped overhead and gravcars hummed past. The plasglass dome created a tropical greenhouse where the desert soil yielded all manner of vegetation. Further off, between the buildings, water sprinklers irrigated tracts of agricultural land, and the dome gave the sky a pearly glow.

They entered a nondescript building and traversed a short corridor to a door, which slid open. The guards pushed her inside and the door shut. She gazed around at a sleek, modern room with elegantly understated decor and every creature comfort. Light poured in through skylights, and a warmly decorated bedroom, plush bathroom and an auto kitchen led off it, all tastefully furnished. After an hour or so, she decided to have a hot bath to ease her tension. When she was dressed again, she wandered about, growing bored and restless.

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."