"Who were you talking to on the bridge?" she asked.
"The ship."
"This ship talks? What, did you use some poor man's brain instead of a neural net?"
"It has a highly advanced bio-crystalline brain, and is capable of thinking for itself. It's what I call a companion ship, which I can talk to when I'm alone." He leant against the doorframe. "I'm currently building a second one, since this one is a little old now. A companion ship flies itself. I don't have to link into a neural net and run the risk of having my brains fried."
She stared at him, astounded, then forced herself to look away, resisting the urge to ask him more questions. "I see. Thank you."
Tarke left, and the door slid shut behind him, sealing her in the quiet room.
Tallyn glared at the holograms scrolling up from Marcon's console, his eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Vengeance had dropped out of the Net only to find the slaver station abandoned and no ships in sight. They had been forced to wait for a signal to reach them from Rayne's beacon, a tense few minutes during which many feared the worst. Then the welcome flash of the signal appeared on Marcon's console, and a new course was set. The destination puzzled Tallyn, and he tried to discern the Shrike's actions.
"Perhaps only a crew and Rayne are on the ship," he mused. "We don't know if that bastard is on it. I don't see him putting himself in such danger. For what?"
"Maybe he still doesn't know about the beacon," Rawn suggested. "He might be simply fleeing."
"Towards an Atlantean outpost?"
"An unguarded outpost. Perhaps he thinks it's the last place you'd look for him."
"No, I doubt that. He could have gone in any number of directions and ended up deeper inside his territory, with his ships to protect him. Instead he's heading away from it. I might be tempted to think it's a decoy, except she's on that ship." Tallyn made a tired gesture. "And he can't know about the beacon, or he'd have jettisoned her already."
"How can it be detected?"
"With a body scan. Any medical scanner that registers metal or microwaves will pick it up, but he won't know it's a beacon unless he detects its pulses, which he can't unless he knows the frequency. Since most of the advanced races use cyber implants, there's nothing unusual about it."
Rawn gave a soft snort. "He might think it strange that she doesn't know she has it, and therefore can't possibly use it. You don't think that might make him a little bit suspicious?"
"Why would he discuss it with her? I don't think he talks to her at all. She's just a commodity to him."
"I hope you're right, but it'll be hard to keep Rayne quiet."
Tallyn frowned at him. "Let's hope she doesn't annoy him too much. He's a killer."
Rayne stared at the door, her thoughts and emotions in turmoil. Part of her longed to join him on the bridge and ask him the many questions that bred in her mind, another part knew the answers would probably be lies, if she got any at all. A voice in the back of her mind shouted that she should stay out of his way and hope he really meant to release her, while the young, naive part of her insisted that he would make a powerful friend, and should be cultivated.
In her confused state of indecision, she was unaware of how swiftly time passed until the door opened again, revealing the empty corridor. At this invitation she rose and went to the bridge, where the Shrike sat in the pilot's chair, staring out at the stars. A blue planet, mottled with white clouds and green land masses, shone like a jewel in the blackness.
The Shrike turned his head. "We're here. Octovar One."
"So," she murmured, her voice quivering a little, "You really mean to release me."
"I'm not that much of a liar."
"But you are one."
He shrugged. "I have to spin the occasional yarn. Now, I don't have much time. Are you ready?"
Rayne experienced a strange pang of sadness, and wondered at it. In all likelihood, she would never meet him again, which was a good thing, yet she regretted it. She longed to ask him what would have happened if she had not been the Golden Child. What he would have done with her if she had just been another slave? The possible answers made her shudder, but she had no time to ponder the question further. He stood up, facing her.
"Are you ready?" he repeated.
"Yes. I – I'm grateful to you."
"Don't be. I'm not your friend, nor am I some sort of romantic figure out of one of your cheap novels or fairy tales. Reality is harsh, so forget about me and get on with your life."
As she cursed her unguarded musings, he turned away and addressed the ship. "Activate the transfer Net, and place our guest on the surface, in the principal city."
Rayne raised a hand in a belated gesture of farewell as the golden shimmer engulfed her, then the energy shell dispersed, and she stood on a bright, clean street beneath a clear blue sky. Atlanteans, dressed in their preferred loose, colourful garments, wandered past, some glancing at her. Gravcars swept by above and beside her, skywalks arched overhead, linking towering buildings. She made her way to a public bench in a patch of red and green flora and sank onto it, her legs shaking. Fortunately, the air was warm and calm, for she still wore the dress he had given her, which offered little protection from the elements.
An hour later, Tallyn and Rawn transferred in, and she ran into her brother's arms. Even as they embraced, the energy shell engulfed them once more, and she was back aboard Vengeance.
The Shrike gazed at the stars, his chin resting on his hand. He had removed the mask to rub his face, relieving a persistent itch on his cheek. Stripping off his gloves as well, he tossed them onto a console, where the mask stared accusingly at him. He studied his hands, remembering how she had scrutinised one so closely, and the touch of her fingers. No one had touched his skin for fifty years. Not while he was conscious, at any rate. Doctors had tended him after the many attempts on his life, but he had been unaware at the time. She was so young, and so innocent. Her touch had been like fire. He rubbed his wrist, pushing up his sleeve to gaze at the scars around it as he remembered what had made them so long ago.
Octovar One was two light years behind him, and he had dropped out of the Net to relax and ponder his hasty decisions. Releasing the human girl had been the right thing to do. He had no problem with that, whether or not she was the Golden Child. The Draycon Empire, however, would find out about her continued existence, and Drevina would seek to kill her again unless someone stopped her. The Atlanteans' laws forbade them from using violence except in self-defence, a fatal flaw in their culture, in his opinion. He ran a hand through his hair and stretched.
"Shadowen, what's the probability that this Atlantean legend is true, and Rayne is the Golden Child?"
"The human female who accompanied you earlier?" At Tarke's nod, the ship went on, "I would say slim, if not for some recent data collected from the Atlantean space net. Apparently, on a trip to her former home world, Vengeance encountered a mysterious ship that claimed to be the Golden Child's guide. The ship was huge, and immune to the Atlanteans' weapons. It also used the transfer Net to leave the area instantaneously."
"It used the Net to make a complete transfer?"
"Correct."
Tarke frowned at the winking crystals before him. "Are you sure?"
"I am sure that is what the Atlantean space net’s information said, yes."
"You know the legend of the Golden Child, don't you?"