T Southwell - Prophecy

"In case you're wondering, your expressions are as easy to read as a space line screen." His soft voice mocked her, increasing her ire.

"You're certainly no Robin Hood," she gritted. "Just a damned slaver and a murderer."

"And a thief, don't forget."

"What are you going to do with me now?"

He shrugged. "You've served your purpose, so now I'll really sell you, I suppose. I'll tell Tallyn where to find you, to get him off my trail, as I had planned."

"You bastard."

"You should be grateful. You get to go home."

"Only because Tallyn's looking for me. He's the one who deserves my gratitude."

He cocked his head, the mask glittering. "True. Good old Tallyn, guardian of the Golden Child, defender of the weak and enemy of the wicked. He might not be so zealous when you've served your purpose."

"I still have my brother." She remembered her abduction with a grimace. "If he's still alive."

He sipped his drink, and she jumped up, shrugging off the coat. "Why did you kill him?"

"Jamdar? He was a rival slaver, and a slimy bastard. Slavers kill each other all the time. It's how we stay in business. Kill or be killed, and grab as much of what the other guy's got as you can."

Rayne put down her drink, her stomach still in a tight, queasy knot. A strong sense of betrayal filled her, and she did not understand why she was so upset. With herself and him, not because she had misjudged him, but because he had deceived her, and she had not realised it. Mindra had said that she was able to sense people's moods and emotions as well as when they were lying, yet she had been convinced that he had been himself before, and now she knew it had been an act. His gentleness and wry generosity had been the facade she had dreaded, and her pain at his deception ran so deep it sickened her. A touch on her arm made her start, and she swung around to find him standing beside her again.

"You look ill. Perhaps you should lie down."

Rayne glared at the mask, longing to rip it off and look into his eyes, to see the truth in them, where he could not hide it. How could a cold-blooded killer be kind and considerate, his soft voice filled with concern? She moved out of his reach.

"I'd like to be left alone, if you don't mind. In fact, I'd rather not see you again."

He sighed, putting his drink down. "All right."

Rayne listened to his footsteps leave the room, and the swish of the door closing behind him, then sank down on the chair, covered her face, and wept.

Tallyn glared at his second-in-command with glinting black eyes as he stood over Marcon's console. "It's moved? Now it's moved? We're a few light minutes from one of the Shrike's fortified bases, and now you tell me the signal's moved?"

"Yes, sir," Marcon said, unfazed by his commander's ire.

Tallyn swung away with a curse. "Then change our heading! Follow it. Where's it going now, anyway?"

"It's coming from the territory of a nearby slaver, a Rentarian called Urquat. The signal's only a few light hours old."

"Good. At least that's good news. Maybe it's better this way, Urquat is a small slaver, he won't be a problem. Now that we know exactly where she is, how long until we get there?"

"An hour, maybe a few minutes more."

"Make it a few minutes less." Tallyn frowned at the main screen, which was blank. "I want boarding crews ready in fully armoured space suits. We have to be ready for anything. And keep us linked, I want to use the Net to transfer the men, take them by surprise."

Rawn looked up. "Shouldn't we demand that she be returned first? She might be hurt in the fighting, or they might use her as a hostage. We could use the threat of Vengeance to force him to hand her over."

Tallyn shook his head. "He mustn't even know who we're after. It's better if he just thinks it's a raid. If we tell him to hand her over, he's more likely to dispose of her and deny he ever had her."

"But the beacon…"

"He doesn't know about the beacon. If he did, she wouldn't be here."

Rawn stared at the Atlantean commander, realisation dawning in a cold tide. "She'd be dead."

"Exactly. The beacon can only be removed with delicate surgery, and only deactivated with Atlantean codes. The only other way to stop its signal is to destroy it, and believe me, you can't do that without killing her, too. If he finds out what brought us here, she's dead."

Rayne looked up in surprise as the door opened and the Shrike strode in, his coat spreading like wings behind him. He reached her in a couple of long strides, gripped her arm and pulled her to her feet. The golden shimmer of the transfer Net engulfed them, then dispersed, and she staggered as he released her, gazing around at a dim room. A curved screen gave a startling view of space, sprinkled with stars. In one corner, a space station rotated, glittering in the harsh light of a white dwarf star. Several ships orbited it, distant points of moving light. She seemed to be on the bridge of a small ship, judging by the lack of space and multitude of twinkling consoles that surrounded her. A contoured pilot's chair faced the curved screens, flanked by consoles and vidscreens. She opened her mouth to ask him what was going on, but then he addressed the console beside him in an urgent tone.

"Scan the individual with me."

A bland, sexless voice spoke from somewhere above her, making her jump. "The individual carries an Atlantean tag."

The Shrike swung to face her, making her retreat a step. "You're tagged!"

"Tagged?"

"You've got a damned homing beacon in you somewhere! You didn't know?"

"No!" She raised a hand to her head, the spot above her left ear that had been the source of so many headaches.

"They implanted you, and didn't tell you?"

"No. I don't know. Did they?"

"How nice of them. Your heroes, the Atlanteans. They tagged you like a damned animal, so they could track you down wherever you went."

She lowered her hand, stunned. "How did you know?"

"I didn't, until a bloody Atlantean ship showed up in this sector, heading straight for Urquat's station." He swung away, his hands clenching. "I should have had you scanned. Especially when I knew what you were."

"What are you going to do?" A strange mixture of hope and anguish made her heart race.

"Do? How the bloody hell should I know? Urquat would have put you in a damned atomiser."

Her knees shook, and she leant against a console. "You're going to kill me?"

"I should," he said. "I should jettison you and get the hell out of here." His voice softened. "But I won't. Shadowen, how long before the Atlanteans arrive?"

"Eleven minutes."

"Okay, link with the Net, set course for… Octovar One. Send a message to the Shadow Wing, tell them to return to base. The Atlanteans will follow us. We've got the bait."

Rayne clutched the console behind her as space swung past the portals, the stars wheeling around before settling into new patterns. The station vanished, and a belt of stars filled the screens. As she gazed at them, trying to recognise their patterns, a web of snaky golden brilliance crawled over the screens. She turned to the tall man who stood in the shadows, staring at a screen that hung before a bulkhead. After a moment he nodded.

"Good, they're following, and we're pulling away. Their stress factors are much higher, due to the size of their ship, so we're faster."

"What are you going to do with me?"

He turned to face her. "Nothing unpleasant. Octovar One is an Atlantean outpost, a law abiding world with little military presence. I'll get close enough to transfer you to the surface, then I'll leave and you'll be free. Your friends should pick you up within an hour or so. All you have to do is wait."

"Is it safe for you? What if they lay a trap for you?"