Prophecy

that they did not know who she was. Surprisingly, no guards or overseers were in evidence; the slaves seemed to go about their business without supervision.

Halfway along the corridor, they entered a lift and shot up several floors. The girl used the time to scrutinise Rayne, as if trying to discern her particular brand of madness. When the lift doors opened, they stepped out into a brightly lighted area populated by scores of men and women moving purposefully about. Rayne followed her guide across a vast hangar where several gleaming black shuttles were berthed, attracting only a few incurious looks.

Glancing into a clear-walled office as they hurried past, she stumbled, shocked. The Shrike stood talking to a man who bobbed his head in a subservient manner. As she watched, the Shrike settled into a form-fitting chair and glanced around at the people outside. Rayne quickened her pace, turning her head away. The acres of open floor seemed to take hours to cross, and she almost trampled on the girl's heels in her eagerness to reach the other side, as far away from the Shrike as she could. They passed through a door at the far end, entering a larger hangar, which also bustled with activity.

A sleek black space ship sat on its belly in the middle of it, and Rayne was unable to resist stopping to study it. At first the ship's streamlining puzzled her, then she realised that it was small enough to be an atmosphere craft as well. A needle nose swelled into a graceful body, the bulk of which comprised two enormous energy conduits for the dimension drive. It hovered on its anti-gravity coils, mere centimetres above the ground. Deactivated repellers made spiral indentations on its flanks, top and tail. A scanner ring circled the sharp nose, held in place by invisible attractor fields.

Silver hawk emblems gleamed on its sides, and its familiarity struck Rayne. Every ship she had studied on Atlan had some bizarre shape, either boxy, saucer, spherical, pyramidal or beyond description, but this was the first ship that looked like something she could relate to, a jet fighter without wings. It also lacked the delicate antenna arrays that sprouted from star ships, which atmospheric travel would destroy. She became aware of the slave girl beside her, gazing at the ship with a soft smile.

'It's Tarke's special ship. The neural net was damaged in a battle. It's being fixed.'

Rayne glanced around, wondering if they had any security at all in this place. Evidently not, for no one seemed concerned by their presence. She followed the girl through a door at the far end of the hangar, which led into yet another vast area, where Rayne stopped in surprise. Hundreds of people sat at one end of the room, a soft murmur issuing from their ranks.

Three long lines shuffled towards the far wall, where three shuttles were parked. The people vanished into the vessels, and several black-clad men watched them, at times stepping forward to answer a question. Others walked amongst the seated people, occasionally bending to speak to them before they moved on. Rayne stepped back at the sight of the uniformed guards, and the girl turned to eye her scornfully.

'There's nothing to be afraid of. Go and join them. They're being taken to a ship that leaves tomorrow. Tell them where you want to go, and they'll take you there.'

'Atlan?'

'All who wish to go to Atlan are taken to Adrivia, a nearby world. There you can call your friends to pick you up.'

'Just like that?' Rayne could not believe it. It was too simple, too easy.

The girl snorted. 'Why not? The Shrike's not a slaver, stupid girl. He rescues slaves and gives them back their freedom. There are no prisons or guards on Ironia, none to keep you here, at any rate.'

'He bought me at an auction. He told me he was going to…' Remembering her resolve not to end the poor girl's fantasy, she trailed off. 'It doesn't matter. This will suit me fine.'

Rayne studied the crowd with a pang of pity, finding some poor thin wretches amongst them, and their placid, contented expressions surprised her. These unfortunates were probably being transported to auction, but mingling with them still offered a chance of escape. Once away from the planet, she could make her offer to the ship's captain, and the chances were good that he would find it tempting. A valuable ransom had to be better than a lesser amount from the auction block, and would save him the expense of a collar. She turned to thank the girl, who pulled a face and flounced off the way they had come.

Rayne joined a queue, hoping she would be off the planet before the Shrike realised she was gone. Her hopes were dashed when a guard announced that the shuttles were full, and those in front of her went to sit by the wall. She checked that her collar still hid her bare neck, which, along with her clothes and well fed appearance, set her apart from the other slaves. Most of them wore plain grey coveralls, and only the guards wore black suits like hers. She realised that she would be mistaken for a guard, not a slave. Heartened, she walked over to a wall and leant against it, like the other guards.

Over an hour passed before the shuttles returned, and the slaves rose to reform the queues. Rayne got some odd looks from the other slaves when she joined the line, but ignored them. After half an hour of waiting, the shuttles were full again, and the slaves returned to sit at the back of the room once more. She wandered over to lean against a wall, affecting a bland expression to hide her growing nervousness. The shuttles returned and the queues reformed once more, and this time she got a place much further up the line, not far from the nearest shuttle. Her spirits lifted as she shuffled forward, prodding the man in front of her to try to speed things up, and he glanced back irritably a couple of times.

The slaves' murmur hushed, and an eerie silence fell on the crowd as the people in front of Rayne glanced around. They fell to their knees with a great sigh, and she stood rooted to the spot, unable to look around at her approaching doom. An insane urge to run for the shuttle made her want to giggle as hysteria swelled inside her like a giant bubble.

A soft, beautiful, and all too familiar voice spoke beside her. 'Going somewhere?'

She swung to face him, her brows knotting as she was forced to look up at the ugly mask. 'Trying to.'

'Well done. You got quite far. But surely you didn't think you'd escape this easily. Who helped you?'

'No one.' She couldn't bring herself to betray the girl.

The Shrike took hold of her arm and led her towards the distant door through which she had entered. The slaves watched him pass, their expressions adoring, or perhaps merely terrified, she mused. Why would slaves adore a slaver? In the next hangar, he released her, apparently once again secure in the knowledge that she would walk meekly beside him. His arrogant assurance made her seethe with futile fury, wishing she could prove him wrong. He stopped before the sleek black ship and gestured to it.

'What do you think of my ship?'

'It's a bit small,' she said, hiding her admiration.

'It's meant to be. Size isn't everything. I have huge battle cruisers too, of course, some even larger than Atlan's finest, but they require big crews, and I prefer solitude.'

'You like to brag, too, don't you?'

He took her arm again, his touch impersonal, and steered her away from the ship. 'You're in a bad mood today, aren't you?'

Rayne longed to jerk free, for his touch made her shiver. 'So would you be, if you'd almost managed to get free of a damned slaver, then been caught.'

'Well, almost isn't good enough, is it? Anyway, it was a pretty dumb plan in the first place. Whose was it?'

'The – mine. And it wasn't so dumb. The captain of that ship would have jumped at a huge reward from Atlan for my return.'

He shook his head. 'No he wouldn't. My crews are all loyal to me. He would have brought you back.'

Rayne fumed as he escorted her back towards the office where she had seen him earlier. The short, stocky man to whom he had been speaking, an Atlantean with pudgy features, narrow brown eyes and high class two-tone hair of ash blond and dark brown, came at his signal and bowed. The Shrike stopped and released her arm, facing his subordinate.

'Find Layalia and bring her to my quarters.'

The man nodded and left.

Rayne looked at the Shrike. 'Who's Layalia?'

'The one who helped you, I'm sure.'

She shivered as he took her arm again and led her towards the corridor. 'Please don't punish her.'

He glanced at her, and she sensed a rare unguarded emotion from him. Surprise. 'Why not?'