Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship (24 page)

“
Really?” Her brows rose. “How?”

“
The same way you heal people, damn it. If you can heal my
flesh, you can make the ship’s form a tunnel.”

“
That’s crazy. You don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

“
Don’t I?” He gripped her shoulders and gave her a little
shake. “You can do it. All you have to do is believe in yourself.
That’s half the battle.”

“
Do you have any idea how much power it would take to command
the flesh of a creature this size? Need I remind you that the
Crystal Ship is almost as big as a small moon? What do you think I
am, a miracle worker?”

“
You don’t have to take control of all of it. Just a small
area, to form a tunnel.”

She shook her
head. “It’s not so simple. In order to take control of that small
area, I still have to send my mind into its flesh, and that
disperses my power. The larger the patient, the more difficult it
is to heal.”

“
Just try. It can’t hurt to do that, can it?”

“
I’m so tired,” she groaned, rubbing her temple.

“
I thought you cared about Scrysalza?”

“
I do. I want to help it, more than anything. I just don’t
think I can.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Let’s look
for a tunnel.”

“
That will take too long, unless we’re really lucky and find
the right one first time. What do you think the chances of that
are?”

“
Probably better than my being able to form a tunnel in the
ship’s flesh.”

He snorted and
turned away, then swung back. “The ship’s dying. Doesn’t that make
it easier? It has no more influence over its body.”

She frowned.
“Well, it does, I suppose.”

“
Then try. Just do that, and if you can’t, we’ll look for a
tunnel. It won’t take long, will it?”

“
It shouldn’t.” She sighed and looked down at the floor. “But
I have no idea how far it is. What if I go in the wrong
direction?”

“
Follow the blue ganglion.” He gestured to the Envoy’s body.
“Once you’re inside the Ship’s flesh, you’ll be able to see it,
won’t you?”

Rayne nodded
and trudged up the shore, pondering. He was right in many ways, and
she was surprised by how much he knew about healing powers,
considering he did not have them himself. His determination to save
the Ship also surprised her; she had not thought he would care
about an alien entity like Scrysalza. He had touched its mind too,
however, and she knew the beauty he had encountered there. Also, it
was a slave, recently freed from its master, and she wondered if
that was why he wanted to save it so much. The thought of Scrysalza
dying brought her great sorrow; she just doubted her ability to
save it.

Stopping close
to the Envoy’s beached forepart, she gazed up at its vast, hated
bulk. Killing him had saved Atlan, but the Ship had been sacrificed
in the process. In a way, that meant he had still won. She knelt,
wincing at her aches and pains, aware of Tarke beside her, watching
her. Placing her hands on the Ship’s cold flesh, she closed her
eyes and let her consciousness trickle into the vast crystalline
entity. The strangeness of it blocked her, forming a barrier of
mystery she had to plumb. She allowed it to permeate her, sensing
the gradual flow of information settling into her mind. It was a
kind of balm to the aching emptiness there, filling it with a
pinkish-grey mass that seemed opaque and strangely translucent.

Time ceased to
have meaning as she unravelled the data stored in the alien flesh,
a fascinating combination of crystal and weird, isolated cells.
That baffled her until she adjusted to the vast difference in size.
Perspective formed a key, and with it she unlocked the mystery,
knowledge flowing into the gaps. Like a picture forming on a
canvas, she decoded Scrysalza’s flesh, and received a pleasant
surprise. Unlike hers, the Ship’s mind had commanded its inner
workings much like a person would his arms and legs. The barrier of
reluctance she had always encountered in people did not exist in
the ship, whose flesh was ready to obey her. The floor beneath her
hands sagged, then opened. Tarke grabbed her before she fell
headlong into the tunnel, pulling her back.

She opened her
eyes and grinned at him. “I can do this.”

“
I knew you could.”

Rayne peered
into the dark tunnel before climbing into it, finding it only a few
feet deep. Tarke squeezed in beside her in its narrow confines. She
placed her hands on the floor and commanded it again, and it parted
beneath them. They slid down, following the opening flesh, and she
closed her eyes, found the glowing blue filament ahead and followed
it down. Twice she stopped to rest, the work arduous for a mind
still raw from the psychic battle. The second time she stopped, she
calculated that they had descended several hundred metres. Tarke
was pressed against her in the solid gloom, his presence
comforting. He occasionally placed a hand on her back to encourage
her. Once again she was aware of his acute discomfort at being in
such close quarters with her, but refused to dwell on it. She
forced herself not to think of his proximity and concentrated on
her task.

When the
Ship’s flesh opened into thin air, it took her by surprise, for it
seemed as if she had been tunnelling through it forever. Her tired
mind did not react in time, and she fell through the hole with a
startled yell. She landed on a hard floor, bruising her backside.
Tarke landed beside her, on his feet. She glared up at him when he
reached down to pull her to her feet, then forgot her pique as she
became aware of their astonishing surroundings. They stood in a
chamber almost as large as the one in which the Envoy had dwelt,
but it was filled with scintillating light.

The walls
reflected the brilliance like crushed diamonds sheathed in clear
crystal that appeared to be several metres thick. She looked up to
find that the hole she had made was closing, sheets of crystal
sliding back to cover it. No other tunnels led into this chamber,
nor did slime cover the floor. The rosy light of blood beasts shone
through the walls, adding a pink tinge to the amazing surfeit of
white light. Its source was the tips of several massive crystal
spears that protruded through the walls, each glowing with pale
brilliance. The gravity made her knees sag, draining what little
strength she possessed. The vast chamber was spectacularly
beautiful, but empty. She sank down on the hard floor and allowed
tears of sadness and defeat to overflow.

“
It’s useless,” she muttered. “It’s too late.”

Tarke turned
his head as he gazed around the chamber. “Not necessarily.”

“
I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that.”

“
I’m not the one who said it before. You did. The Ship’s still
here. It’s not dead yet.”

“
I can’t sense it.”

“
You’re tired.” He took a few cautious steps, for the crystal
floor was as slippery as ice. “We’re inside its brain. When it’s
awake, this chamber is filled with energy, a massive soup of
charged particles that functions just like a biological brain, only
it doesn’t need grey matter. If it was awake now, we’d never
survive in here.” He indicated the crystal spears. “Those are its
eyes, sort of. They bring it images of the outside
world.”

“
That’s very interesting, but where’s Scrysalza?”

“
Here.” He pointed at the floor, then the walls. “All around
us. It’s so weak now it’s almost invisible. But look
closely.”

Rayne peered
at the walls, and after a moment caught a faint flash of something
running along them like quicksilver; a shimmer of sparkles, a
remnant of thought or memory vanishing into the pale crannies of
its vast mind. The silvery stream sank into the crystal and
disappeared.

“
Scrysalza!” She tried to run to the wall, but slipped and
sprawled, banging her elbows. Pain and weakness mixed with sorrow
and tiredness, and she bowed her head, letting her tears
flow.

Tarke knelt
beside her and lifted her, cradling her against him. His soft voice
soothed her wounded mind and raw emotions. “It’s okay. You can
still save it. I know you’re tired and dirty, thirsty and hungry.
You feel like you’ve been beaten and kicked in the guts, but you’re
not defeated yet. You can do this. I know you can. I’ve never met
anyone as strong as you. You have a will of iron and a heart as big
as a world. Don’t give up. I’ll help you; just tell me what to
do.”

“
Hold me,” she whispered, sensing his slight start at her
strange request. He obeyed, and she revelled in the comfort of his
arms around her. She sighed, and he chuckled.

“
Does this have anything to do with saving the
Ship?”

“
Yes, of course it does. I need your strength and comfort.
Such things are very important to a healer. Did you think it was
some bloody stupid romantic idea?”

He chuckled
again. “No, I wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“
Good.”

He released
her when she pulled away, sitting back.

She reached
for his mask, hooking her fingers around its edge. “What about your
promise?”

“
Not here, and not now.”

She tugged at
the mask, then turned to the shimmering walls. “Scrysalza, what
have you done?”

Wary of the
ice-smooth floor, she crawled to the wall and laid her hands on it,
caressing the flawless surface. Within it, the facets reflected
light into a million colours, shining like a billion stars trapped
in glass. She rested her cheek against its coldness and closed her
eyes, yearning for the touch of the gentle alien mind.

Tarke mourned
the crystal beast. He had known grief in all its forms during his
long life, for his family, his friends, himself, even strangers,
and for dumb creatures that could not even protest their fate.
Perhaps theirs was the most poignant, being wordless, and therefore
so much acuter.

As he gazed at
Rayne in the light of the beauty around her, he knew that as soon
as this was over he must put light years between them, and fast. He
could not keep his promise. It was impossible, and it had served
its purpose. She would never find him to rebuke him for lying to
her, and he would never see her again. He hoped in time she would
understand, and forgive him. His thoughts were jerked back to
reality as he noticed that the wall around Rayne was alive with
glowing sparkles, gathering to her like a swarm of multi-coloured
fireflies. She smiled, her expression peaceful. A twinge of unease
made him frown. A little too peaceful.

Tarke gripped
her arm and pulled her away. She was limp, and, after checking that
she still breathed, he laid her on the floor and faced the wall,
where the sparkles faded.

Raising his
fists, he pounded the crystal, shouting, “No! Live, Scrysalza! Damn
you! If you die, so will we! She doesn’t see it, but I know! We’ll
be trapped! She can’t command dead flesh!”

The Ship’s
mind brushed his, so faint that he hardly sensed its concern and
sadness. Rayne was happy for it to leave, it whispered; she
understood that it made no difference now. Scrysalza was so close
to crossing into the peaceful zone that to come back was more
painful than to carry on.

He thumped the
crystal. “Scrysalza! You know where we are. We’ll die too if you
leave us here. You must live, so we can. We tried to save you from
the parasite. Help us now.”

The Ship’s
distress touched him with a gossamer thought of sorrow for its
friends, not wanting to cause harm to others. If he wanted its
help, it could not deny him; he was its friend. The Ship’s
sentience vanished, and he wondered if its sentiments were only
regrets. He patted Rayne’s cheek until she brushed at his hand and
frowned, opening her eyes.

“
How could you?” he demanded.

“
How could I what?”

“
The Ship! You let it go.”

“
Oh, yes.” She sighed. “It wanted to. It had almost crossed
over into the peaceful zone. It seemed such a nice place. I almost
wanted to go with it. It’s more dead than alive, so I told it to
go. It seemed cruel to make it come back from so far.”

“
You bloody idiot! You might have got us killed.”

“
What do you mean?”

He gestured to
the walls. “Do you see any tunnels leading out of here? Once it’s
dead, you can’t get us out.”

“
Who needs tunnels? We can use the transfer Net.”

“
The transfer Net!” He laughed. “Brilliant!”

She looked
confused, clearly unsure of whether he was serious or being
sarcastic. “What’s wrong with the transfer Net?”

“
Nothing, if it would work in here.”

“
Why won’t it?”

“
Who taught you about the transfer Net?”

She shrugged.
“I taught myself a little, from the Atlantean library.”

“
A little is right; just enough to make bad mistakes.
Sometimes a little knowledge is more dangerous than none. What do
you know about locator beams?”

“
They’re particle beams. They pass through anything, and
they’re used to map unknown destinations.”

“
They pass through anything except facetted diamonds.” He
indicated the walls again. “That’s not crystal; it’s solid diamond;
compressed carbon, actually, and several metres thick. The vast
majority of this ship is crystal, but this is the real thing.
Particle beams are split and bent by facetted diamond. There’s no
way this room can be mapped, and if a locator beam can’t find us,
we can’t transfer out.”