T Southwell - Prophecy

"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!"