Free Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship by T C Southwell Page A

sacrifice, which Tallyn did not doubt, he had
still taken a huge risk.
    The Shrike’s
ships turned golden and vanished into the void. Last to leave were
the three damaged cruisers, and he had to admire their captains’
courage. They deserved medals, and he wondered why they worked for
a slaver. The only black ship left was Rayne’s, which waited
alongside Vengeance. Now that the battle was over, it all seemed
peaceful, a collection of ships gathered in a remote area of space.
Only the knowledge of the hostility between them caused tension on
the bridge as the officers watched their holograms intently, ready
for the first warning of attack.
    The Draycons,
however, seemed to have had enough. Norvar’s loss was a grave blow
to the Gorder Bonn Priesthood, weakening their standing. Now they
would have to sort out their pecking order all over again. One
thing was certain, neither he, nor the Draycons would ever
underestimate the Shrike again. His suicidal tactics, although
successful, could never be emulated by captains who cherished their
lives, and to admit that the Shrike’s men had more courage than his
was galling. At least the man was finally dead.
    Normally a
space battle remained a stalemate for hours, sometimes days, during
which time reinforcements were called and the whole thing got
bigger and messier. Ships were too well protected by their stress
shields, and could hurl laser and energy bolts at each other
endlessly with no effect. There were chinks in the armour, however.
A stress shield had weak points that could be penetrated with a
well-aimed shot. Only by hitting either the Net link hook or a
stress shield generator could a ship gain the upper hand.
    The way the
Shrike’s cruisers had overcome Norvar so quickly and efficiently
had been a revelation, but they had done it at great cost to
themselves. So the tactic, while useful, was not without its
drawbacks. He wondered if Rayne had calmed down yet. He had a lot
of questions for her. Mostly, he was exceeding curious about the
yellow liquid she had been drenched in when he found her.
    Marcon
straightened, his hand pressed to the sensor pad in front of him.
His skin paled to a sickly grey, his eyes wide. Tallyn had never
seen the unflappable lieutenant look so alarmed.
    “ What is it?”
    “ Sir.” Marcon blinked and turned to his commander. “A report
from Atlan, sir. They detected a spacial anomaly, and sent a ship
to investigate it. They report... a vast ship has appeared, larger
than anything we know of. It’s made of crystal.”
    Tallyn’s blood
turned cold. “The Envoy?”
    “ Yes, sir. They think so. It’s heading for Atlan, moving
slowly, and they’re mobilising a strike force to intercept it. They
request our return urgently, with the Golden Child.”
    Tallyn gripped
the edge of the console to steady himself, fighting an urge to run
to the hospital and find Rayne. The Golden Child. Her importance
loomed enormously, and he longed to have her by his side, where he
could bask in the assurance of her presence. The prophecy was about
to come true, and the magnitude of the moment stunned him. He
gathered his scattered wits.
    “ Set course for Atlan. Tell the others to follow. I’ll go and
tell Rayne.”
    In the
hospital, doctors tended to the men who had returned from Norvar.
Rows of beds were occupied by injured men in an artificial sleep,
their wounds, visible through the clear regeneration jelly, already
showing pink areas of regrown skin. The redolence of jelly and
antiseptic permeated the huge room. Nurses trotted past on errands
and doctors stalked by with the injured air of a healer on a
battlefront.
    Rayne sat on a
bed, staring into space, clad in a clean pale grey suit. Her hair
was damp from a shower, and she sipped from a half-empty bottle of
water.
    “ Rayne?”
    Her eyes
flicked up to him, filled with anger.
    “ Are you all right?” he asked.
    “ No.”
    Tallyn sat
beside her. “We’re on our way back to Atlan.” He hesitated,