Warden's Fury

by Tony James Slater

  Kreon was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said at last. “And I’m sorry that you don’t trust me. If you had the strength of character to undertake what I am about to, Sera would not be able to threaten you. Her rebellion is only made possible because the Order is weak — and because the one who leads it is weakest of all. Farewell, Lord Oktavius, and good luck — I believe you’ll need it.”

  He cut the signal, then used his implanted transceiver to block further calls from Atalia.

  And then he breathed, heavily, sinking down onto the bed as he processed what had just happened.

  He’d been out in the cold for most of his career, operating alone for years at a time… But he’d always come home eventually. The ability to do so, the certain knowledge that his actions were backed by the full weight of his Order, was a large part of his confidence. He’d made questionable decisions in the past, but like it or not Erekasten had always supported him…

  Suddenly, all that was gone.

  Oktavius held power now, and if he meant what he’d said, Kreon would be cut off from Atalia…

  A Warden no longer.

  All his career… all his life. He’d rightfully achieved his place in the First Circle, had spent centuries defending humanity against things most of them could’t even imagine. To have it all snatched away, simply because one feeble individual found himself with supreme power and yet lacked the maturity to wield it…

  Then again, the way things were headed the Wardens were in for a rough ride. Perhaps he was better off on the outside. One thing he did know — he couldn’t allow their political squabbles to endanger his mission. The Black Ships were a far greater threat than any bunch of rogue Wardens; the fate of the entire galaxy could very well hang on what he discovered.

  More sleep would be impossible. He collected the battered trench coat from the foot of the bed and shrugged it on. There were plenty of things he could be doing.

  Research to conduct.

  Records to examine.

  And a course to plot, to the one place he swore he’d never go back.

  Lemuria.

  * * *

  Kyra stared up at the dimly-lit ceiling and wondered why she couldn’t sleep.

  She wasn’t sure what had awakened her, but now she lay there, her mind churning with thoughts of the day ahead. Her injuries from the fighter battle were relatively minor, and the Folly’s medical talos had fixed her up pretty good. She’d be sore for a few days, but when wasn’t she? Mostly, she was grateful that the older wounds were finally staying closed. Recovering from that ordeal had taken much longer and been far more difficult than she’d expected. Maybe she was getting old?

  Sharki was stretched out on the bed next to her, snoring gently. With Kyra in no condition to do anything but talk, he’d gone to sleep with his boots on. His fancy shirt lay strewn on the floor though, and the body it had revealed was hard-packed and criss-crossed with scars.

  She reached out and brushed a chestnut curl from his forehead. She knew his hair was steel-grey beneath the dye, the byproduct of a lifetime of hard choices. We’re both getting old. She’d known Sharki for decades, and had seen his manner change in that time — partially her fault, of course. First she’d stolen his heart, then she’d taken it with her when she left. The result was a man with more bitterness and hostility than she’d known before, but also more vulnerability. Sharki’s armour had been pierced, and only she knew the way in. It made her love him even more — that he’d held a candle for her all this time, in spite of what she’d done to him…

  And she was about to do it again.

  “I’m sorry,” she breathed.

  Sharki stirred, then sat bolt upright as old combat reflexes kicked in. “Kyra! What…?”

  “Shhh… it’s nothing,” she whispered, reaching out to trace his bicep with a fingertip.

  “We’re okay?”

  “We’re okay,” she confirmed.

  Sharki slid back down into the bed, yawning. “Din’t know where I was for a few secs.”

  “Mm-hm. Occupational hazard.”

  “Yeah…” he yawned again. “It’s been a while, to be honest. I’m mostly a homebody these days, sending the boys out to do my dirty work.”

  “I don’t believe it for a minute.”

  “Oh yeah? You should try it sometime. I’ve finally got my place just how I want it. And now Outcrop is mobile, we’ll get to go places without even leaving home.”

  Kyra snorted. She’d always considered Sharki’s asteroid base so damn ugly that she went on extra missions just to get away from the place. “Sounds idyllic.”

  “It is, as it happens. Matter of fact, I was hoping you’d come back there with me. Once we haul that wreck of a battleship back there we’re gonna need all hands on deck. Expand operations, like. I could sure use my lieutenant.”

  Kyra sighed. She’d hoped to delay this conversation for at least a day. She never seemed to catch a break, least of all where Sharki was concerned. “No,” she said softly. “Kreon’s going into Lemurian space. And I’m going with him.”

  “What?” Sharki was fully awake now, rolling over to face her. “You gotta be shitting me! You’ve literally just got back on your feet, and he’s already got another suicide mission lined up for you?”

  “Hey!” she protested. “It’s not like that. I’ve got a job to do too, you know. I can’t just abandon Kreon any more than you could up sticks and leave your people on Outcrop.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I? Maybe that’s what we both need. A bit of time away. I’ve got people on Outcrop that can handle things for a while. You could tell Kreon that you’ll sit the next one out, and we…” he trailed off as Kyra shook her head.

  “That’s not going to work and you know it. Ten minutes in and you’d be calling your guys to micro-manage them. And I’d spend the entire time wondering whether Kreon was still alive or not. I know it’s going to be dangerous out there — that’s why I have to go.”

  “Because of Kreon?”

  “Because of Kreon,” she agreed. “I’ve kept that grumpy old bastard alive this long. Tristan too… someone’s got to watch out for him.”

  “But why does it always have to be you?” Sharki demanded. “When are you going to watch out for yourself? For us?”

  “Ha! For you, you mean. Hang the galaxy, let everyone else die, just so long as Sharki gets his happy times? When did you become so selfish?”

  She saw that barb hit home and his anger rush to the surface.

  “‘Course I’m selfish. I’m a mercenary! And so are you, remember? When did you become the galaxy’s bleeding heart?”

  She had no answer for that. Instead, she snatched up her jumpsuit and pulled it on. She’d kept her Arranozapar swords within arm’s reach ever since taking them back from Evelyn Fitzgerald; they went on next, coiling around her waist with a mental impulse.

  “So you’re really just going to storm out of here? On our first and last night together for Sydon knows how long? Kyra, this is your room.”

  “I’ve got plenty of other places to be,” she retorted. And left.

  * * *

  The morning meeting was a tense one.

  Tris was utterly crushed. He’d been up all night, unable to stop the despair swirling endlessly through his head. When Kreon had summoned him, he’d staggered down to the bridge without even checking a mirror. He didn’t give a shit what he looked like; his heart had been torn in two. He couldn’t face questions about it, so he kept his head down and stared hard at the floor.

  Even so, he could tell he wasn’t the only one with problems. Kyra was snippier than usual, her jibes more acidic. Tris stopped trying to talk to her after the first couple of exchanges, and merely waited for Kreon to get started. The Warden himself seemed wrapped up in some dark cloud of his own. He spoke to none of them, acknowledging their presence with a nod or a stare. Tris was starting to wonder what he was waiting for, and if it was all even remotely worth it, when Loader tru
ndled in. Obviously Kreon had summoned the talos as well, but Loader had spent most of the last week in space, making vital repairs to the battle station they were living in. Of all of them, only Loader seemed unchanged by recent events. He’d been working tirelessly to make the Folly capable of interstellar travel, and Tris felt a flash of guilt for not even trying to connect with the talos. Loader was as intelligent as anyone else on the crew, and he felt a certain obligation to keep up their developing friendship.

  Another failure.

  Kreon glanced around, taking note of Loader parked in place, and began his briefing without ceremony.

  “You all know our mission,” he started. “The Black Ships are striking with impunity, leaving devastation wherever they go. For reasons of their own, the rest of the galaxy seems to be looking the other way. We, however, cannot. Once we have identified a threat, it is our mandate to eradicate it. The Black Ships threaten every sentient race in the galaxy, though of course our experience is limited to their effect on worlds inhabited by humans. We know little about them — only that they strike without warning, absorb all organic matter from a world, and leave the place a lifeless husk. Whatever the politics of the galaxy, or our personal difficulties—” he shot Kyra a meaningful look at this, “—our mission is now clear. We will pursue the mystery of the Black Ships, and we will lay it bare. The Lemurian Empire holds some of the clues we need to unravel this mystery, so that will be our primary destination.”

  “Just us?” Tris asked. “Or can we get a bunch of Warden ships as back-up?”

  Kreon glowered. “High Warden Oktavius, in his infinite wisdom, has determined this mission of insufficient importance to warrant back-up.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, at least we have the Empress and her… whatever they are.”

  “Nope.” Kyra’s tone was flat. “She’s taken her brood to the far side of the solar system to watch for interlopers. She told me she daren’t go into Lemurian space; she’s afraid of being recognised.”

  Tris raised his eyebrows at this. “Because her people have that treaty with the Lemurians?”

  “Could be. I think she’s some kind of religious zealot back home. I didn’t ask for details.”

  “Oh.” Tris eyed Kyra warily. “Is it too much to hope that Sharki…?”

  “Not coming. And frankly, I don’t want him there.”

  “Fair enough. So it’s just the four of us again.” Tris forced a smile. “Like old times.”

  Kyra regarded him cooly. “I’m not going either.”

  “WHAT?” Tris spun to face her. “But… but—”

  “Relax Tris, I’m just messing with you. Where else am I gonna go?”

  The Warden followed all this, a strange look in his eyes. When they were all quiet again, he continued as though no-one else had spoken. “We have one stop-off to make. As you know, the Folly contains a rather sensitive cargo. I aim to deposit the items in our care on a world where they will remain undiscovered until we return for them. Entering enemy space is one thing; entering it with a hold full of forbidden weaponry is another entirely. We must be prepared for the Lemurians to treat us with hostility. They will examine us from every angle, question our intentions and debate our motives. But our mission is pure, and it is simple. If they also fear the Black Ships, then they will help us to discover their nature. I believe this enemy can be defeated, and I believe that we will find the way. Because we must, or countless billions of lives will be extinguished with every attack. We have never known a threat like this, but we will face it nonetheless.”

  Kreon ended his speech abruptly. Tris didn’t know if he was meant to applaud or cheer. He felt like doing neither. The Warden had put some effort into that presentation, and he was clearly expecting a more enthusiastic reception. All he got was a terse nod from Kyra and a flat stare from Tris. Loader’s top light lit briefly, at least showing that the talos had been listening. It was an awkward moment, which Kreon salvaged with a snap of his fingers.

  “Tris!” he called.

  “Yeah?”

  “Our journey into Lemurian space may provide some of the information your father warned us about. I need to know that you are prepared to deal with this eventuality — that you are committed to this team, and prepared to do what will be required of you.”

  Tris sighed. “Sacrifice again, Kreon? Like I haven’t done enough of that?”

  Kreon’s tone softened. “No, indeed. I am aware of the difficulties you face. But you should know that my promise to your father stands. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. It may be that this experience will teach us much about the man he was, and instil you with the same dedication that drove Mikelatz. You have the potential, Tris. You could be a greater Warden even than he was.”

  Tris made a face at Kreon. “It all comes back to that, eh? Being the most noble, the most dedicated, the most self-sacrificing Warden. You know, I never really had much choice in that, did I?”

  Kreon had the decency to look taken aback. He didn’t answer for a few seconds. “You’re right of course,” he said eventually. “But I stand by my decision. You have the chance to achieve so much more out here than you ever could have on Earth. Great people do not start out great, Tristan. Their greatness develops in response to the circumstances thrust upon them.” He turned to Kyra. “What about you? Any last-minute regrets you’d like to air?”

  Kyra eyed him warily. “If you want to call my dedication into question, be my guest. I think I can still cough up enough blood to sign a ‘fuck you’ agreement.”

  Kreon stared at her, a rare smile spreading across his face. “Thank-you Kyra. I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

  “So where are we headed, anyway?” Kyra asked. “I mean, you’re being all mysterious and shit, and I know that’s your bag, but I’m not really in the mood for it. So if you don’t mind spilling the data, I’ve got the squirt here to whip into shape.”

  Tris winced involuntarily as she mentioned him. Training with Kyra in a good mood was seriously tough. Training with her like this… Ouch.

  “Very well,” Kreon said, running both hands down his trench coat to smooth it. “I’ll get Loader to input the coordinates. If you wouldn’t mind?”

  The talos rumbled forward, heavy tracks clanking on the metal deck.

  Tris watched with building interest. It was clear from Kreon’s body language that something important had just happened. He’d been building up to this destination like some crazy uncle who’d bought his niece a pony. The delivery had fallen a little flat, what with Ella having destroyed Tristan’s whole world just a few hours earlier, but he owed Kreon a lot. The least he could do was appear to be interested.

  “So. Where are we going? Got some secret place we can stash all this shit?”

  Kreon fixed him with a steely glare. “Finally paying attention, are we? Yes, the planet we are heading for is precisely what you envisage. All that, and more.” He turned his attention to Kyra. “I would have let you in on this of course, but we’ve had so little time lately.” He turned, addressing the Folly’s computer. “Askarra, would you be kind enough to project an image of what we should find at those coordinates?”

  A small, rocky sphere sprung to life beside Kreon. The holo clearly represented a planetoid — perhaps a small moon, Tristan wasn’t clear on the terminology. It was round and grey, pock-marked with impact craters… and barren.

  “Okay…” Tris began. “So… what are we looking at here? You’ve bought a moon? Um, congratulations.”

  Kreon grinned back at him, a wolfish grin stealing over his features.

  “Indeed, Tristan. Kyra, take a look. I always planned to bring you here, one day. But time, alas, had been our enemy.”

  Kyra’s interest must have been piqued. “I don’t know that place,” she said flatly. “I don’t even know that sector.”

  Kreon’s eyes were alive as he responded. “Indeed, you would not. There is little there to remark upon; merely this tiny planet, which I have adopted. There is
however, considerably more to her than the holo conveys.”

  “Like what?” Kyra sounded intrigued. “You’ve given her a holo-dating profile?”

  Kreon ignored this, manipulating the holo to show the planet’s dark side. As far as Tris could tell, it was identical to the light one. “Uh, what’s it called?” he asked.

  The Warden looked a little chagrinned. “I haven’t entirely decided. For now I call it, Kreon’s World.”

  4

  The four-day journey to reach Kreon’s mystery planet was horrendous.

  Tris spent half his waking hours getting beaten up and down the training room by Kyra and the other half being drilled by her on the theory and mechanics of fighter piloting. Kreon stopped by occasionally to monitor his progress, and the whole bastard bunch of them had refused to communicate with him in any other way than by using the Gift.

  It was exhausting.

  It occurred to Tris that perhaps they were doing it on purpose — trying to keep him mentally and physically occupied so he couldn’t dwell on the painful absence of Ella. Then again, there had been plenty of heartbreak to go around lately; Sharki had stormed off in a huff just before they left Earth’s solar system, gone to contribute his expertise to the ongoing defence effort. The battleship he considered his prize was still being used as a base of operations for the remnants of Sera’s forces whilst the Wardens figured out a more permanent strategy. The loss of Homeguard had left them in a precarious position, and the attempted raids on Earth had sky-rocketed. Kreon had been offered the post of Earth Warden but had inexplicably refused it. Then again, it looked like a job doomed to failure, so perhaps he was being pragmatic. He certainly seemed more detached lately, not that he’d ever been the life and soul of the party.

  Tris missed Ella with every breath he took. More than anything he missed her slender arms around him in the middle of the night, when she’d made secret visits to his quarters. Askarra had to know about it — it was impossible to sneak around the gigantic battle station when the computer monitored every occupant’s vital signs in real-time. Still, they’d decided not to mention it, as the prospect of being spied on — by his mother, no less — had been more than a little uncomfortable for both of them.