Slave Empire III - The Shrike

by Southwell, T C

  Scrysalza! Help us! They’re going to kill Tarke! Help us!

  The officer approached Tallyn again. “Sir, some of the Shrike’s ships have engaged our fleet in orbit. We’re taking one hell of a pounding. His flagship, Empire, is there and… Well, we’ve already lost two cruisers.”

  Tallyn nodded. “They’re tearing them apart, right?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe, and their weapons -”

  “Put it on the screen. I’m sure the Council will want to see.” Tallyn nodded at the giant vidimage screen floating above the platform, which showed rousing scenes of planetary pride prior to the execution of the most notorious and feared slaver lord in the galaxy. The Shrike’s image had not been broadcast yet, but the time was fast approaching when it would be. The Shrike was showing signs of awakening, too, as he must before he was executed.

  The scene in the hovering screen changed to a star-sprinkled void where sleek black ships sent lances of blue light and bolts of Net energy at silver defenders. Atlan’s two orbiting capital ships, the battleships Repulse and Orion, sprouted flames from their flanks, fuelled by venting atmosphere. Beyond them, a silver cruiser broke up, sending out a wave of debris. The Council gaped at the images, which came from a scout ship, and occasional waves of interference passed over them as weapons fired close by. Empire came into view, pouring streams of laser fire at Repulse, her flanks flashing with explosions as Repulse and Orion fired back. All the ships had lost their stress shields, and their hulls bore glowing spots and smoking holes. The Shrike’s warships attacked without strategy or defensive formations, clearly intent on destroying Altan’s defenders as quickly as possible, with no regard for the losses they suffered. In the distance, what looked like an old ore carrier rammed an Atlantean frigate, both ships vanishing in a burst of fire and wreckage.

  The Shrike’s eyes opened to stare at the sky, glazed by the lingering effects of the drugs. Even in the dull light, they were intensely blue. Atlan was about to execute the last Antian, Tallyn mused, the people that had supposedly been the most advanced, intellectually, of all the races. The Shrike turned his head towards Rayne, and his eyes filled with sorrow as they focussed upon her. A moment later, she raised her head, as if she sensed his gaze, and her face crumpled as fresh tears coursed down it. Tallyn wondered if the Shrike spoke to her telepathically. It was all so bizarre, and so wrong. He was becoming more and more convinced of that, and fought the urge to release the Shrike. It would do no good, though. It was too late. The shadow on the sundial vanished. The executioner approached. In the hovering screen, Repulse exploded in a blaze of garish fire and a wave of glittering debris. Empire staggered as explosions ripped through her.

  Two tears ran from the Shrike’s eyes and dripped onto the marble block. Tallyn had the sensation of impending doom. The executioner reached his victim. The sundial passed noon. Orion blew up. Tallyn wanted to stop what was about to happen. His gut chilled. The executioner raised his blade. The clouds parted as black ships descended into the sky, lasers blazing. The stress shield flared. Several Council members stood up. Debris rained from the clouds. Tallyn knew he would die, soon.

  Rayne raised her head and screamed, “Scrysalza!”

  The world froze.

  The Crystal Ship emerged from the energy dimension on top of Atlan. Its vast wings parted the clouds and slammed into the ground with a thunderous, rumbling boom. A sound, like the drone of an organ’s deepest note, hammered Tallyn’s ears. The shockwave of the Crystal Ship’s arrival swept away the clouds and bowed the forest around the floating platform. The wall of force threw all the people on it to the floor. The platform sank to the ground. The stress shield flickered out. The planet quaked from the impact. Tallyn struggled to raise his head. Rayne’s eyes were wide and blank. Sorrow engulfed Tallyn in a wave so powerful that he wept from the bittersweet shock of it. The Council members, dignitaries and priests writhed and wailed. Tallyn raised his head to stare at the Crystal Ship as the shockwave passed. Its wings drove into the planet, tearing great canyons in it. The ground shivered and rumbled as mountains of soil and rock were pushed up. A crystal spear broke off with a report like a mammoth thunderclap and fell in slow motion to strike the earth with a distant rumble. Agony swept over Tallyn, stunning him, and blackness swallowed him.

  Rayne turned her head to look at Scrysalza, shocked by how close it was. It filled half the sky, its furthest reaches beyond the atmosphere. The ship had collided with Atlan in a mammoth impact that had probably knocked the world several degrees off its axis and slowed its spin by a few hours, for to be burdened with something as massive as a crystal ship would affect even a planet the size of Atlan. The Crystal Ship broadcast pain and sorrow in mind-bending waves, and she only escaped its effects because her mind was a raw pit of pain already. Tarke frowned, and she knew his mental shields were taking a hammering, but he could handle it. Unlike the Atlanteans on the platform, all of whom lay on the floor, stunned or dead. Blood oozed from Tallyn’s ears, and his eyes stared sightlessly at the sky.

  The ship’s forward motion slowed, its immense spears ripping through the ground with a distant grumble. She jerked at the bonds on her wrists, struggling to free her hands. The executioner had collapsed beside the block, his mouth agape in his last, agonised cry. The agony abated, to her relief, as the ship ceased to broadcast it. The black ships that had entered the atmosphere descended to land close to the platform. Presumably they had been outside the scope of Scrysalza’s broadcast, which seemed to have been focussed on the platform. She had not known the ship could do that, and a font of gratitude blossomed within her. The Crystal Ship halted, mounts of rocks and debris crumbling around its buried lances. The dull thunder faded, rolling away to reverberate off distant mountain ranges.

  Rayne bent and tugged at the restraints with her teeth, desperate to get free. Endrix had said that a crystal ship could not land on a planet. The gravity would crush it. Had Scrysalza plunged to its death? The thought horrified her. She had not wanted it to sacrifice itself. The again, could she have allowed Tarke to die instead? Hot tears stung her eyes. Black-clad men exited the landed ships and raced towards the platform, laser cannons at the ready. They headed straight for the execution block, while two approached Rayne and sliced off the restraints on her wrists. Two others used laser cutters to melt through the shackles on Tarke’s wrists and ankles. They retreated as he sat up, and she rose a little shakily to stumble over to him, a soldier helping her. Tarke wore only the grey trousers he was to have been executed in, his scars pale in the sunlight that poured from the cloudless purple sky. When she stopped in front of him and gazed at him through her tears, he pulled her into his arms and held her so tight that she squeaked.

  Several minutes later he released her, and she became aware of his men waiting behind her, the ships that hovered around the platform, and Scrysalza’s colossal presence. The Crystal Ship had sustained some damage in its collision with the planet. One of its spears had broken off, which was amazing, considering that it was over a kilometre in diameter. Some of its wings’ crystal lances were buried deep in the planet’s crust, and several smaller spears had snapped off, too. Incredibly, it had not collapsed, and Rayne wondered how that was possible, and if the ship would be able to free itself. Tarke took her arm and tugged her towards the edge of the platform, where his men waited. She reeled beside him on numb legs, and his arm around her waist supported her. As they reached Tarke’s cruiser, the ground trembled, and she stopped to stare at Scrysalza.

  The Ship moved away from the planet, tearing its wings from the shuddering earth with deep, distant rumbles mixed with dull reports. Another immense spear shattered with a deafening thunderclap, and blocks of crystal the size of skyscrapers fell to hit the ground with giant booms, sending tremors through it. The planet was taking a further pounding as the Crystal Ship freed itself. She had no idea what manner of propulsion Scrysalza used, but somehow the Ship was reversing, dragging its wings from the earth. Crystal spears were also
retracting, being torn from the trembling ground to slide into their slots. The Ship, she realised, would be half blind, since some of its spears were buried. It appeared that Endrix had been wrong after all, although his deduction was logical. Something as massive and delicate as a crystal ship should not have been able to withstand gravity.

  Tarke towed her up the steps into the cruiser, his men entering behind them, their weapons at the ready. Nothing was going to threaten them now, she was sure. The Atlanteans who had escaped the Crystal Ship’s deadly blast of emotional torment would be fleeing for their lives. The portal slid shut and the cruiser drifted into the sky, and Rayne gazed out of a screen at Scrysalza, the enormity of what the Ship had done more clearly visible from the air. The Ship was like a giant burr on the planet’s surface, impaling it with sparkling spears, and, taking into account its wingspan, it was almost a quarter of the size of Atlan. The shockwave of its emergence and impact had swept away the clouds for thousands of kilometres around the site of the collision, leaving a vast circular area of the surface visible from space. Shimmering shafts of light shone from the Ship’s uppermost spears. She became aware of Tarke speaking to someone close by.

  “Send a message. Stop the battle. Tell them I’m safe.”

  The officer nodded and hurried off, and she turned her attention back to the scene in the screen. Scrysalza’s wings slowly emerged from the soil, some cracked, most with the tips broken off, and all brown with dirt. Fresh tears stung her eyes for the gentle, giant creature that had injured itself so badly to save its friend, and used its pain and anguish to kill his enemies. It had known she and Tarke would survive, just as they had survived the battle with the Envoy. The lines of light it emitted seemed to be growing brighter. She pressed up against the screen to keep the ship in sight as the cruiser turned away, and Tarke said something to someone. A minute later he touched her arm, and she glanced around. A vidscreen had been set up on the crystal-topped table, showing an image of Scrysalza as it broke free of the planet. The Crystal Ship had freed its wings, which swept through the atmosphere as the Ship drifted away. Due to its size, the bulk of it remained in space, and the upper atmosphere flamed around the junction. Rayne wondered if that hurt, hoping it did not.

  The cruiser ascended into space, and Rayne gasped in awe as a further five crystal ships became visible on the vidscreen, rotating with majestic torpor, slashing space with lances of brilliance. They were quite close to the planet, in geosynchronous orbit. Each one emitted a wavering conduit of radiance that led to Scrysalza, and she understood how the Ship had survived its impact with the planet. The other ships supported its vast array of crystal filigree wings with their luminous power, and drew it back into space. Endrix was right after all. The Ship had required the aid of its kin to do what it had. The fact that six ships had answered her call for help made Rayne’s heart swell with gratitude and awe. Then again, if Tarke’s men had not freed the ships, they would not have been able to help Scrysalza save him.

  The Crystal Ship had almost cleared the planet’s atmosphere, the tips of its wings afire as it moved away, shining like a colossal star. A flotilla of black ships orbited Atlan, and the burnt out shells of Atlantean warships adrift amongst them. More ink-black ships still arrived, emerging from golden Net shells with their weapons deployed. None fired, however. The battle was won. Scimarin drew alongside the cruiser that carried them, and Shadowen followed him. Her heart seemed in danger of bursting. She glanced at Scrysalza, relieved to find that the Ship had left Atlan’s atmosphere completely, and flew free once more. The conduits of shimmering radiance that linked it to the other crystal ships faded, becoming ghostly afterimages.

  Rayne dragged her attention from the screen to take in her surroundings. She sat beside Tarke on a pale grey sofa in a plain, grey carpeted cabin with white walls. The door buzzed, and Tarke raised a hand to shield his face as it slid opened and an officer filled it. He placed a mask, skullcap, throat guard and an armload of clothes on the chair by the door, then retreated. Tarke rose, picked them up and went into an adjoining room, which she assumed was a bathroom. He emerged five minutes later, once again her faceless husband clad in black and grey. He held out his gloved hand and, with a last quick glance at the vidscreen, she rose and took it.

  Outside, crewmen clustered in whispering groups, and turned to salute the Shrike when he emerged. They parted to grant him access to a transfer plate in a sizeable lounge, and when he and Rayne stood upon it, Tarke turned to them, gripped his right wrist and held it out. A shout went up from the men, and then a Net shell engulfed Rayne and the Shrike. It dispersed in a cavernous hold, where rows of uniformed men stood waiting. An officer stepped forward to salute Tarke. Judging by the smoke in the air and the buckled hull in places, this ship had been in the thick of the battle. Only when they arrived in a familiar lounge did she realise that they were aboard Empire. Vidan trotted towards them, his eyes shimmering with tears. She thought he was going to try to hug Tarke, but he stopped a pace away and beamed instead.

  “God, Tarke; it’s bloody good to see you in one piece.”

  “It’s good to be in one piece.” Tarke’s voice was husky and raw.

  Vidan nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Rayne went over to the screen to gaze out at Scrysalza, which had joined its kin, the six ships rotating in unison just beyond Atlan’s larger moon. The Crystal Ship was easy to spot, being significantly dimmer than its kin, its wings truncated and ragged. Faint lines of light still linked the other five to it, as if they fed and healed it. She longed to thank the crystalline entity, but no alien thoughts brushed her mind. Perhaps it was still recovering. She faced the Shrike, who sat on a settee, his head turned towards her. She went over and sat beside him. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back.

  “Tarke… I’m so sorry.”

  The Shrike sighed and shook his head, pulling off his gloves. He tossed them on the table and removed his mask, skullcap and throat guard, dropping them beside his gloves. His face was tense and drawn; his eyes, which avoided hers, were haunted.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just glad we made it.”

  “I never thought they would -”

  “Hey.” He sat forward and took her hand, rubbing it. “Don’t… blame yourself. They set a trap for you. You shouldn’t have come here, but I understand why you did. But then, you saved me, too.”

  “Scrysalza saved us.”

  “Yes, because you called it… somehow.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll never -”

  “Hush. Enough now.”

  “What happened? One minute I was visiting Rawn in the hospital, and the next I woke up and you were lying beside me, drugged.”

  He nodded. “An Atlantean councillor told me you’d be their prisoner for the rest of your life.” A slight smile tugged at his mouth. “I told him to keep you. So then I called Shadowen and got his story. I came to get you, of course.”

  “Just you? Are you nuts?”

  “Many think so. I’m one of them. Yes, just me. I came in Shadowen, undetected, but they caught me. I guess you confirmed my identity when they put me with you. I woke up on the slab.”

  “You’re hurt. You should go to the hospital.”

  “The Atlanteans seemed to have patched me up okay.”

  “You should still go.”

  He inclined his head. “Later.”

  “At least… I think all the Atlanteans who saw you are now dead.”

  “I hope so, yeah. They might have taken holographs, though. And a lot of my people will need to be mind-wiped. I must go and talk to the men.” He picked up his mask and donned it, pulling on his gloves as he rose to his feet.

  “Can I come?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  On the way to the bridge, she noticed that he was limping. When he entered the dim, quiet control room, which bore battle scars in the form of blackened consoles and dead screens, Empire’s commander, a large Shirran woman wit
h fierce eyes and a scarred cheek, stood up and saluted.

  “Commander Jargan,” Tarke greeted her.

  “Dalreen.”

  “Report.”

  “Sir. We lost eighty-five ships in the battle; one battleship: Dreadnaught, three battle cruisers, one of which was Star Blade, nine destroyers, including Fire Blade and Fearsome, fourteen frigates and fifty-eight civilian craft. Seventeen more were damaged. Empire has sustained major damage, but she destroyed Orion and Repulse. There were a hundred and fifteen Atlantean warships in orbit when we arrived. Now there are two scout ships and four frigates.”

  “Civilian craft?” Tarke asked. “What the hell were civilian craft doing here?”

  “They came to help, Dalreen. They intended to land and invade. Some rammed Atlantean warships.” She raised her chin proudly. “Dalreen, when we received your distress call, every single ship responded. Over three thousand vessels answered your call.”

  Tarke shook his head. “I didn’t send a distress call.”

  “Then it was your ship, Shadowen.”

  “How many died?”

  She hesitated. “Seven thousand, eight hundred and ninety-two gladly laid down their lives, Dalreen.”

  “Which ship picked me up?”

  “The battle cruiser Invincible had the honour, sir.”

  “Put me on the space line to all ships, Commander.”

  Jargan signalled to one of the crewmen, who tapped the keys on a pad in front of him, and a sweet single tone came from the coms console. Rayne guessed that it was also broadcast ship- and fleet-wide, to alert everyone to Tarke’s transmission.