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 to 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?” 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 Rayne’s 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 forward console’s twinkling crystals. “Are you sure?”
“I am sure that’s what the Atlantean space net’s information said, yes.”
“You know the legend of the Golden Child, don’t you?”
“Just as you do.”
“Refresh my memory.” Tarke laced his fingers and settled back.
“Translated into simple language, the legend says that at a certain time, the Atlanteans must save a golden girl child from a dying planet. She will, apparently, be able to avert a terrible catastrophe that will otherwise befall the Empire, and save it. This is not only an Atlantean legend, however, the Draycons have it too, but in their version, they must kill the Golden Child in order to bring down the Atlantean Empire.”
“But there’s no mention of this strange ship in either of them?”
“No.”
“So, the Draycons will soon find out she’s still alive, and Atlan’s protection is pretty shoddy,” Tarke said. “If Atlan falls, I’ll be next on Drevina’s extermination list. Perhaps it would be worthwhile to take out some insurance. What would happen if Drevina and her brother were to die suddenly?”
“They have no true heirs. According to Drayconar tradition, she must bear her brother’s twins. Drevina has a child by another male, but he’s not considered a true heir. Draycon would be plunged into chaos, even civil war.”
“That might be a good thing.” Tarke sighed. “I want the Drayconar battle cruiser, Norron, destroyed. Send out the order.”
“This will focus Atlan’s attention even more on you.”
He shrugged. “So be it.”
“You have no idea what monster might emerge at the head of the Drayconar Empire. You might make it worse. And if the Draycons find out who killed their empress, there would be reprisals.”
“Then there must be no survivors. I have a feeling that by the time the Draycons sort themselves out and kill off all but one potential leader, whatever catastrophe is coming to Atlan will have run its course. It will prevent the Draycons from interfering any further in the prophecy. I have no love for Atlanteans, but at least they keep the Draycons quiet. Send the order.”