Slave Empire III - The Shrike

by Southwell, T C

  Rayne stared at the table, numbness nibbling at her mind.

  “Hey, are you all right?” he asked.

  She looked up, forcing a smile. “Yeah.”

  “I shouldn’t tell you about this shit, sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe it’s being back here. The circumstances are a bit different, though.”

  “I thought she freed you.”

  “Who, that old bag?” He snorted. “She wasn’t as bad as most of my owners, but she wasn’t a saint.”

  “So… no one helped you. You did it all by yourself.”

  He nodded. “No one will help a slave, except another slave.”

  “But… you said you changed ‘son’ to ‘slave’, so you inherited her property. If people accepted that, it must have happened before, or been legal, at least.”

  “I wasn’t her heir. I was her executor. She left all her property to charity. She hated her son, that’s why she made him executor. It’s not unusual for a slave to be put in charge of his master’s, or mistress’ funds. That’s a different type of slave, though. Vidan was one. They’re skilled slaves, trained in some useful profession, like accountancy or lawyering. They save their owners a tonne of money. They’re well treated, so they don’t betray their owners. If they do, they pay the price, so they don’t dare.”

  “You told me she left all her property to you,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It was easier than telling you that whole story. What’s the difference?”

  “I thought at least one free person had helped you.”

  “Oh, I see. No, I’m afraid not. She wanted me auctioned and my proceeds donated to charity. I changed that bit, too.”

  Rayne sighed. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “Yeah, it was a fun story, hey? Now you have those shitty images, too.”

  “If it helps me to understand you, I want to know about it.”

  “I’m really not that complicated. If you want to know something, just ask me.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t like to talk about your past.”

  “Some things I dislike talking about more than others, and some things I won’t talk about at all. There are some things I’m okay with, though. This is one of them. How did it help you to understand me?”

  “Well, it didn’t, actually. I thought I knew why you don’t hate freemen, because one helped you, but now I don’t.”

  “Ah. Nope, that’s not it. It’s because I’ve collared so many of them. There’s something about turning a slaver into a slave that’s quite refreshing for an ex-slave.”

  Rayne smiled, her gloom lifting a little. “You do it personally?”

  “I have done. Not so much anymore. The novelty’s worn off a bit. Now I let others do it. It helps them, too, I reckon.”

  “You would know. And now I understand why you want the freemen gone from Rimon. Especially Rimon.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “This is the foundation planet. The core of the Empire.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t make it your headquarters. Why Ironia?”

  “Ironia is the second planet I colonised. It’s less populated, and far from any of the others. Most of my enemies know it’s my base, so it’s heavily defended. I wouldn’t want to endanger the people on Rimon.”

  “Has Ironia ever been attacked?” she asked.

  “Yes. A slaver did, once, when I had a lot fewer warships. At that stage, I had thirty-three, and he had over forty. The difference was his captains worked for money, mine fought for their freedom. He lost.”

  Rayne got the impression that speaking about his past, even the triumphs in it, was not helping his mood. A lot of ex-slaves had died in that battle, she guessed. Silence reigned for several minutes, and then she asked, “So, do you think your speech stopped the unrest? Will the freemen leave now?”

  “Yes. Now that I’ve told my people to cast out the freemen, they’ll do it themselves.”

  “Because you told them to,” she said.

  “Yes. Half of those people would jump out of an airlock without hesitation if I told them to, and the other half would only stop to ask why before they did it. If I had told them to kill the freemen, they’d have done it right there, on the spot. The freemen know it, so they won’t start any more trouble.”

  “Because your people love you.”

  Tarke lunged forward and brought his fist down on the table with a terrific bang, cracking the crystal top. “Because they’re slaves!”

  Rayne almost jumped out of her skin, and gasped in shock, staring at him. “But… you freed them.” Her voice trembled.

  “They’re still slaves, here.” He tapped his forehead. “They always will be. It’s not something you can wash off with soap and water. It’s a mind-set, a habit, a psychological disorder. They’re trained, brainwashed, conditioned, call it what you will. It’s not something you recover from.”

  She swallowed hard. “There used to be slaves on Earth. Some escaped, some were freed; they lived normal lives.”

  “Did they wear slave collars?”

  “No… chains, I think.”

  “That’s the difference. You can take chains off, and when they fall away, you know what freedom feels like. When you can never take off the badge of slavery, you never stop being a slave.”

  She was afraid to ask the question that popped into her head.

  He nodded. “Yes, even me. Even though I was a bad slave, disobedient, insolent and proud, if my collar was reactivated… I would do as I was told, to avoid the pain, beatings, and humiliation. My life would cease to be my own. The drogtaal was born a slave. Do you want to know what he asked me?”

  She hesitated. “Okay.”

  “He asked me what he must do. What I wanted him to do.” He leant back again. “Because I’m the Dalreen. He’s probably asked many freemen the same question since he came here, and I’m sure some of them told him to drink water from the gutter or let them piss on him.”

  She raised a hand to her mouth, sickened. “What did you tell him?”

  “Never to ask anyone that question again. To do whatever he wanted, and be happy.” He looked away. “And never to grovel again.”

  “Will he do it?”

  “Yes, of course. I am the Dalreen! Don’t you see? None of them will disobey me, ever. I can order my captains to tear apart a Drayconar warship to free you, or die trying, and they won’t hesitate. The ones who have more independence are the ones who sit in clubs on places like Dreamish and drink to forget. They won’t join my crews, because they’re afraid, but then they don’t know what else to do. But if I ordered them to do it, they would.”

  “So you don’t think it’s because they love you? I mean, didn’t they hate their masters?”

  “No, it is, and yes, of course they did. That’s not the point. If I told you to jump out of an airlock, would you?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “It’s not love that makes them obey me; it’s the slave mentality. Their love for me is the reason they’ll never betray me and will die to protect me. Committing suicide at my command is pure…” He shook his head. “There isn’t a word for it, but I call it idiocy.”

  “And you hate that.”

  He jumped up and went to stare out of the screen again. “I can never free them. No matter how hard I try. I can give them a better life, but they’ll never be truly free. Then we have these arrogant freemen, who swagger and spit, and probably order their parents around. The more of them there are, the more harm they do. An ex-slave won’t take orders from another ex-slave, except me, of course. I’m doing this for them, too. I have given them an order that most of them will hate, in order to help them. It will cause them pain to cast out their children, and I had to do that to them. I’m the only one who can.” He turned to her. “There are exceptions, like Vidan. He’d tell me to get stuffed if I told him to jump out of an airlock.”

  “That’s why he’s your friend. And you don’t have this… slave mentality, do you?”

/>   “Not like them. But then, I escaped, and I was never a good slave.”

  “They’re damaged,” she said. “It’s not your fault, or theirs.”

  “I know.”

  “So there’s no point in getting upset about it, is there?”

  He sighed. “I just… wish it was different. You know?”

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her arms, still shaken by his attack on the table.

  Tarke returned to sit opposite again. “Did I frighten you?”

  “I almost wet myself.”

  He laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Say that like you mean it.”

  “I do mean it.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes.

  “Ah.” He lowered his gaze to the table top.

  Rather surprised that her mild flirtation embarrassed him, she changed the subject. “Vidan thought you were putting yourself in a lot of danger.”

  “He always does. If he had his way, he’d lock me up in a hermetically sealed room under fifty metres of concrete and throw away the key.”

  She thought about what she would like to do with him, which involved a very large bed and many, many uninterrupted hours of passion.

  He leant back and rubbed his face. “Whoa.”

  “Hey, stay out of my mind!”

  “You need to learn to shield your thoughts. You’re almost shouting.”

  “That’s not fair. I can’t create mental shields. I’ve tried many times. Perhaps there’s a reason for it, because if I’d had them during my battle with the Envoy, I wouldn’t have been able to defeat him. Now you’re blaming me for not having any, when you shouldn’t be prying into my thoughts in the first place.” She stood up. “I’m going back to Shadowen.”

  Tarke rose to his feet, looking concerned. She commanded the ship to transfer her up, and the lounge vanished behind a golden haze.

  Shadowen’s cool, dim bridge was a balm of familiarity after the tension of the flagship and Tarke’s dangerous excursion, and she craved solitude to sort through her tangled emotions. She hoped he would not follow, even though a large part of her wanted him to. She longed to repeat the magical moment they had shared the night before, but the reaction she had unwittingly triggered afterwards had scared her. She suspected that it had been a flashback, some horrific vision, probably of a spinning blade coming at him. The one that had sliced open his face. Then there were the dreadful implications of his expertise in the art of seduction, how he had learnt it and been forced to use it, which did not bear contemplation.

  No wonder her proximity was so hard for him to bear. Was there any aspect of his psyche that had not been twisted and tainted? She had been such a blind fool. She had thought her dream had come true, but it was buried under a mountain of pain, ruined by his horrific past, unattainable. So close, yet so far out of reach. The fact that he had not allowed anyone to touch him for fifty-eight years proved just how much he wanted people to stay away from him, and she did not blame him. Now he was trying to let her get close to him, but how much of what he had said was true? He was still hiding stuff, she was sure.

  Becoming untouchable had been his way of dealing with his nightmarish past, and it had worked until she had come along. Now he was trying to force himself to overcome the coping mechanism that had kept him relatively sane for so long. Clearly that was proving difficult, and what if it turned out to be impossible? She paced the bridge. The more she learnt about her strange husband, the more she realised just how impossible her dream was. She had thought she could handle it. Now she had serious doubts. The wonderful, beautiful man she had fallen in love with was unintentionally breaking her heart. Her throat grew tight, and she closed her eyes to block out the gloomy bridge with its precious memory.

  The soft hum of an energy shell warned her, and she swung away. He took hold of her shoulders, turned her face him and enfolded her in his arms. She wanted to hold him and push him away at the same time, so she did neither. His gentle compassion was more than she could bear, and silent, painful tears ran down her cheeks. After several minutes, he held her away, but she kept her eyes lowered.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Rayne shook her head and wiped her eyes. Another unpleasant insight had dawned upon her a little while earlier, too. Tarke was an emperor. Millions idolised him, and many wanted him dead, and being a part of his life meant dealing with all of that as well.

  “Why are you crying?” he asked.

  “I’d like some privacy inside my own head,” she muttered.

  “Sorry. It’s a bad habit. It’s how I used to find out what was going to happen to me sometimes. It only works on unshielded minds, but I’m always scanning.”

  “God… Everything you do, or don’t do, is connected to your past, isn’t it?”

  He released her and stepped back. “Yes. Unfortunately, it’s what made me what I am. That’s not what you’re upset about, though, is it?”

  “Stay out of my head, Tarke.”

  “I’m not prying. That’s why I’m asking.”

  “And I’m not going to tell you. It’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it. I’m entitled to a few secrets, aren’t I? You’ve still got loads.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t. I need some time alone to think.”

  He leant on the console and folded his arms, lowering his eyes to the floor. “This is about what happened last night, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t matter what it’s about. I need a few days alone.”

  “This is why I didn’t want to let you get too close to me. I was afraid this would happen. Every time I tell you something from my past, it makes it worse. There’s just so much shit in it. If you need time alone, and you think it will help, go. I don’t blame you for… finding it hard to be around someone who only has horror stories to tell. Just… don’t run away from me again, Rayne.”

  “I can’t, can I? I have your face in my memory, and so many will try to get it. Maybe not the Atlanteans anymore, but the Draycons and the Endless Life Cult and any other shithead who’s got a bounty on your head.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re free to leave if you want. I’ll never keep anyone with me against their will. I want you to be with me because you want to, not because you feel you don’t have a choice. Shadowen will keep you safe, and I’ll assign an escort.” The pain in his voice tore her heart.

  “I’m not running away. I just need some time alone, to sort out my feelings.”

  “All right. Shadowen can always find me when you’re ready to return. I want you to, Rayne, remember that. No matter what you sensed, or think you now know, don’t make assumptions without asking me about it first. If something troubles you so much that you want to run away, I’ll tell you what you want to know, because losing you would be far worse than… anything.” He straightened, and golden light swallowed him.

  Rawn smiled as Rayne came to his bedside and took his hand. “Hey, sis, it’s good to see you.”

  Her eyes flitted over the medical equipment beside his hospital bed. His right leg was in a cast to mid-thigh, and raised on pulleys. “What have you done to yourself?”

  He shrugged. “Just a skiing accident in the mountains on Mansure. Nothing to worry about. A clean break, the docs said. I’ll be on my feet in a week.”

  “So why did they bring you to Atlan?”

  “Better care, apparently. I am, after all, your brother. Maybe they hoped you’d visit if I was here.”

  “Yeah.” She glanced around at the private hospital room whose sterile whiteness was hard on the eyes. A smiling Council delegation had met her outside the hospital when she arrived, and a contingent of priests had presented her with a garland and a long, flowery speech. She had almost forgotten how unpleasant all the hype of being the Golden Child could be.

  Rawn squeezed her hand. “How are you?”

  She sat on the chair. “Okay.”

  “Just okay? I hope you aren’t too upset about leaving your h
ubby to come and see me.”

  She pulled a face. “I was spending some alone time, anyway, orbiting Earth.”

  “Now that’s a depressing place.” He looked concerned. “Nothing wrong on Cloud Nine, I hope?”

  “Just a few speed bumps.”

  “Speed bumps are good. You did kind of rush into it.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t realise what I was getting into.” She sighed. “He’s an emperor, Raw. It’s hard to take. I mean, at first I didn’t realise, because he keeps such a low profile, but then he had to sort out a problem on one of his planets, and… the crowds… It was awesome, but scary.”

  He chuckled. “So now you’re the Golden Child and an empress. Way to go, sis! Who would have thought a couple of raiders from Earth would end up being so important. Not me, of course, I just bask in your reflected glory.”

  She snorted and smiled. “So, how have you been? Do you have a new girlfriend yet?”

  “Well, there is a cute little girl who…”

  Rayne listened to him relate the tale of his latest conquest with half an ear, glancing around again with deep unease. She was not supposed to come to Atlan. Tarke had warned her not to, but that was because of the danger of them reading the information in her memories. Now they knew they could not do that, and she did not think they would try it again. Still, being in the lair of his worst enemies made her uneasy. She had spent five days orbiting Earth, remembering her life there and trying to figure out how she was going to cope with Tarke. She could not leave him; the thought was even worse than the prospect of having his company, yet being apart from him for the rest of her life.

  They could still share a lot, though, and she had spent long hours talking to him on the space line. Mostly, they had discussed shared interests, and his husky voice had kept her sane, even if there was no image to go with it, due to the risk of the communications being tapped. The memory of his kiss haunted her, and she dreamt about it almost every night, since she always remembered it when she fell asleep. She tried to forget about the dread she had sensed. He, more than any of the slaves he rescued, would suffer the aftermath of the slavers’ torture for the rest of his days, and now she would, too.