Warden's Fury

by Tony James Slater

  Turning to Askarra for some comfort, Tris was surprised to learn of her growing admiration for the assassin. “It was the correct decision,” the hologram told him, in response to his anguished cries.

  “Eleanor is correct in her assumption that remaining with Kreon’s team would place both herself and you in greater jeopardy. Kreon is not known for subtlety, and would be an easy target for the Priesthood to pursue.”

  Tris stubbornly refused to see the logic in this, clinging to the unfairness of the situation like a blanket. It resulted in yet another uncomfortable revelation, and one which had cast a bucket of icy water over his burning teenage angst.

  “I am based on an engram of your mother’s memories, taken some years before her death,” Karra reminded him, “but I have access to many sources of information. Her decision to stay with you and your father is what led ultimately to her demise. Agents of the Priesthood located her on Earth, infiltrated the planet and executed her there. Had she fled into space alone, given her considerable skillset it is entirely possible that she would still be alive.”

  “But how is that fair? How do they get away with it? Can’t we find them and punish them? And stop the ones who are after Ella?”

  The computer adopted a gentler tone. “Tris, you have to understand the way the galaxy works. What the Priesthood did to your mother was completely legal. Their pursuit of Eleanor is likewise. Both individuals broke their contracts, in full knowledge of the consequences. The Priesthood has every right to find them and kill them — along with anyone they deem guilty of attempting to shelter their target.”

  “So they could have killed my dad, just for being with her?”

  A touch of wry humour coloured Askarra’s voice. “The famous war-hero? Even the Priesthood would not have dared.”

  “Ah. That’s why Ella went to Sera for protection.”

  “Correct. Seeking refuge on Homeguard was an ideal solution — or it must have appeared that way at the time.”

  “So where will she go now? Ella, I mean?”

  Again, Tris noted the telltale hesitation before the computer replied. “I’m not sure I should answer that.”

  “What? Mum, come on! If you know, you have to tell me!”

  There was another brief pause. “I am unsure of Eleanor’s intended destination, but I can recognise a pattern in her behaviour. If she obeys her training she will already be a long way from here. However, my prediction based on the available evidence is that she will remain close. To keep an eye on you.”

  “What evidence? I thought she was good at… her job.”

  “You should be quite proud, Tristan. By all accounts, Eleanor is an excellent assassin. The one flaw that compromises her professionalism is the same reason she decided to leave you. It is also the reason why I have offered her limited access to the Folly’s control functions.”

  “And that is?”

  “She is in love with you.”

  Tris just stared at the hologram, his mind whirling.

  As morsels of hope go it wasn’t much — but it was the best he’d had all week.

  * * *

  Kreon’s World, seen from orbit, was anything but the rocky asteroid from its official record.

  A green and blue marble of a planet, streaked white with clouds, to Tristan’s eyes it looked very much like a miniature version of Earth.

  Kyra took them in, piloting one of the Folly’s few remaining shuttlecraft. Loader had spent most of the last four days cramming the shuttle’s hold full of Kreon’s treasures; he informed them it would take three more runs to transfer everything to the planet’s surface.

  Kyra spent most of the trip down riveted to the viewscreen, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “There’s something here that doesn’t add up,” she said, not taking her eyes off the lush green landscape they were flying over. “Spill it, Kreon! How the hell did you stumble on this place? And how in Sydon’s Name have you managed to keep it a secret?”

  Kreon frowned at his nav display, but overall his humour seemed to have improved since they’d arrived in orbit. “When I first visited this place, it was the same barren planetoid you observed in the holo. Its official designation was a string of digits too long to remember. I chose it for precisely this reason — it was sufficiently remote and unremarkable for me to conduct my test.”

  “Test?” Tris chimed in. “Test of what?”

  Kreon glanced around at him. “Use your deductive prowess, Tristan! What forces have you encountered that could produce such a transformation?”

  Tris felt his jaw drop as understanding dawned on him. “You mean… you actually used one?”

  “Indeed. This is where I activated the first Planet Forge I discovered. How else could I determine the device’s function? I had deciphered enough of the Kharash language to make an educated guess at its intended use, but there was a substantial possibility that I was wrong. My previous experiments with Kharash technology proved I had the ability to control it, but always there is the margin for error. Triggering the device could have produced a titanic explosion — or nothing. I am extremely fortunate that neither of those scenarios ensued. Instead, this barren and lifeless world was reborn as a rich and vibrant land; it was the best result I could have hoped for.”

  “And… it’s yours?”

  A rare grin stole across Kreon’s features. “Indeed. As an empty, airless rock devoid of any notable assets, the price was remarkably reasonable.”

  As they drew closer to the surface Kyra killed their speed, allowing them all to absorb the scene for a few moments. A veritable Garden of Eden presented itself; rivers and streams criss-crossed the land below, which seemed largely dominated by forest. In the distance, snow-capped mountains loomed majestically.

  Tris found his bleak mood lifting as he gazed out at the unspoiled paradise. If Kreon really did own this world, the possibilities were endless.

  Ella could live here someday… with me. And they would never find us.

  He shook his head. “Kreon, this place is amazing!”

  The Warden spared him a glance. “I believe it is unique in our galaxy; an entirely uninhabited, yet perfectly habitable world — ideal in every way for supporting human life, yet completely unscarred by such. For over a hundred years this has been my private retreat.”

  “Like a holiday home?”

  “That is an appropriate comparison,” the Warden replied. “Though as you may have intuited, holidays are relatively infrequent in our line of work.”

  “How often have you been here?”

  “Twice.”

  A sudden chime from the nav console drew everyone’s attention.

  “What the—?” Kyra reached across in front of Kreon to tap the board. “Is that another ship?”

  “Impossible!” Kreon hissed. “Unless they’ve been following the Folly since we left Saturn.”

  “Or someone discovered this place by accident?” Tris offered. He thought Kreon would tell him the odds were literally astronomical, but the Warden was more concerned with the approaching signal.

  “The other craft is closing with us,” he reported. “And they are not alone; I’m reading a single fighter escort.”

  “Shit! We’re unarmed, and this tub is slower than hell.” Kyra hauled on the control stems, swinging their shuttle around to put more distance between them and their pursuers.

  “Stay on target,” Kreon advised her. “It is imperative that we reach those co-ordinates.”

  “Tell that to the assholes behind us,” Kyra bit back. A warble from the nav console had her reaching across to slap some switches. “That’s a missile lock! These guys aren’t taking any chances. We got any counter-measures?”

  Kreon threw his hands up in uncertainty.

  “Tris! I’m asking you!”

  Tris’ mind froze for a second— then he dug out the picture of his mother he kept in a pocket of his jumpsuit. As soon as his fingers touched the frame the picture vanished, replaced by lines of scrolling code. “Mum!”
he called. “We’re being shot at! Does this shuttle have any countermeasures?”

  Askarra’s response held a shade of anxiety. “Unfortunately not. None of the vessels in my inventory are armed, but I can send another shuttle to your location?”

  “No time,” Kyra said, hunching over her console. “That fighter’s burning straight for us. She’ll be on us in a minute.” She was jinking the controls back and forth in an effort to lose their pursuer, but Tris could tell from her expression that it wasn’t working.

  “I can’t shake ‘em!”

  “Mum, help!” Tris yelled at the picture frame.

  “They’re launching missiles!”

  Askarra’s electronic reply sounded close to panic. “The Folly will be destroyed if it enters the atmosphere in its current condition. I have launched a spread of missiles—”

  “Too late!” Kyra yelled. “Brace!”

  And the ship slammed forward as a massive explosion enveloped the viewscreens.

  Their seat restraints kept them safe, but the shuttle’s nose pitched down, the drone of its engines replaced by pops and bangs of secondary explosions.

  “Shit! We’re going down. That blast took out the main drive.” Kyra wrestled with the controls, toggling her stick to control the retro thrusters. “Going in on landing jets only,” she said, “this may not be my smoothest touchdown.”

  “Can we make the co-ordinates I gave you?” Kreon asked her.

  “Not a chance. If we survive this, we can take a hike.”

  “Where did they come from?” the Warden was indignant.

  “Not from orbit,” Askarra responded. “Neither enemy vessel has an ident. Sensor silhouette suggests a small cargo hauler, though its weaponry suggests otherwise, and a late-model Angellus starfighter.”

  The ground raced towards them, a leafy green canopy filling the viewscreens. Kyra timed blasts of the retro thrusters to pop the nose up every few seconds as they fell ever closer to the trees below.

  “Smugglers?” Kreon suggested. “Or pirates? But how? Only one person could possibly…” The Warden lapsed into silence.

  “What?” Tris demanded. “What is it?”

  “We may have a problem.”

  “No shit!” Kyra said. “Grab hold of something. This is it!” She wrenched her control stems back, and the shuttle ploughed into the forest at terminal velocity.

  * * *

  As crash landings went, Kyra reflected, it could have been worse.

  She was becoming an expert.

  It was lucky that transport shuttles had a degree of aerodynamics designed into them for efficiency in atmosphere, although they still had all the glide characteristics of a combat boot.

  The bow thrusters had pushed the nose up at the last second, transforming their head-on collision into more of a belly-flop. The stubby wings had sheared off immediately, and lights flashed all over her console reporting the damage. They’d skipped across the ground, leaving bits and pieces of the shuttle in their wake, bouncing several more times before coming to rest in a small clearing.

  The good news was, they were all alive. At least for now.

  The bad news was, the shuttle was wrecked. And from the looks of things, their cargo was strewn back across the last half-mile.

  The really bad news was that the violence of their passage would be clearly visible from the air.

  “Out,” Kreon said, his mechanical hand tearing the bulkhead door open in spite of its deformity.

  Tris was unbuckling, apparently unhurt. That was good; Kyra hated to cause the kid more pain than was strictly necessary. There would be plenty more in store for him if Kreon’s vision of the future panned out.

  She gritted her teeth as she eased her legs out from under the console. Her recent injuries weren’t severe, but they were still healing. Looking back, she honestly couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt whole.

  She heard a screech, presumably that of Kreon forcing the main hatch open against its will. Tris had followed him, leaving her alone in the battered cockpit.

  She ran her hands through her hair, sending an impulse to pep up its rainbow with some brighter hues. To celebrate being alive.

  She’d change it back to black with red streaks before she killed anyone.

  As she made her way out through the remains of the cargo bay, she shuddered. The damage was far worse than she’d imagined. The entire back of the ship was missing, leaving a twisted mess of torn and melted metal. Some of the crates still remained, the ones that had been loaded first; the heavy chest containing the Planet Forge was there, though the thing was practically indestructible anyway.

  Her stomach gave a lurch.

  Loader had been in here too.

  His docking station had been at the rear of the cargo bay, close to the reactor that powered it.

  Now it was… just gone.

  And Loader was gone with it.

  The rush of concern lent fresh strength to her limbs. She jumped over the buckled deck plates and made for the hatch.

  The others were waiting for her outside, standing knee-deep in the blueish green undergrowth. Tristan’s stricken face told her they’d already noticed Loader’s absence, so she looked to Kreon. “Any sign?”

  The Warden shook his head. “If he is intact, he is beyond the range of my transceiver. We have no way of knowing if he was ejected during the initial blast, or lost during the crash.”

  “We have to go look for him,” Tris said.

  “Indeed. However, our first move should be to seek cover.”

  Kyra flicked her eyes up to the top of the trees around them. She could hear the whine of atmosphere jets, growing steadily. “They’ll be here any second,” she said. “Defend the wreck, or scramble?”

  Kreon wrapped his trench coat tighter around him, oblivious to the new holes it had picked up. “The forest,” he said, leading the way.

  Kyra looked around, appraising the terrain as she sprinted through it.

  The trees reminded her of the ones her people had brought with them on their exodus from Earth, save for a blueish tinge to the bark. Humans had carried pieces of their home planet to every corner of the galaxy, contaminating every ecosystem they came across. Kyra had long since grown out of caring about it; she’d had more important things to focus on during her adolescence.

  They reached the edge of the clearing and ducked into the trees.

  Kyra spun straight away, pulling her pistol from its holster. She cursed herself for not stopping to find something heavier. The Arranozapar rode her waist as always, but it would have been nice to pack a little more long-ranged punch.

  The whine of engines became louder, the enemy ship coming to a hover directly above them. Kyra squinted up through the canopy, wondering who the hell had shot them down. Pirates? Or smugglers? But they fired without so much as a threatening comm call…

  Then she remembered something, and snaked a hand out to grab Kreon’s arm. “Hey. You know who this is.” She didn’t make it a question.

  Kreon met her gaze, his expression grave. “I am the only living person to set foot on this planet. I left safeguards in space to prevent unwelcome intrusion. No-one in the galaxy could both find the place, and defeat my security measures… except one.” He ran a hand over his studded scalp. “You have to understand; we were still married when I told her.”

  “Sera,” Tris breathed, his eyes going wide.

  Kreon’s face fell. “Indeed.”

  Kyra took a deep, calming breath. “She knew it was us. She must have seen the Folly make orbit. One of these days we’re going to need a less distinctive ride.”

  Kreon looked up again, some of the steel returning to his expression. “That is precisely why I brought us here. We must reach those coordinates before Sera’s troops locate us.”

  “What? You mean you’ve got a ship stashed here?”

  Before Kreon could answer, she felt a surge of intent from within the trees. Reacting on instinct she threw herself forwards, crashing
into Tristan and bringing him to the ground in a heap.

  Just as something tiny whipped through the space his head had occupied and smacked into the tree behind him.

  The boy didn’t complain, just scrambled to his feet and crouched behind the next tree over. Kyra felt for the direction of the enemy’s mind and sent a volley of laser fire in that direction. Kreon had also pulled a pistol from his trench coat, but was saving his shots until he had a target.

  “He’s on his own,” Kyra reported, “a single sniper. I didn’t hear the ship land. He must have dropped in.” She risked a look at the damaged tree, and swore. “Bullets! He’s firing actual bullets at us?”

  Kreon cursed too. “He is hunting me. Sera knows the Aegis is proof against energy weapons, but it offers no defence against solid projectiles.”

  “And bullets are no good against armour,” she said for Tristan’s benefit. “Only we’ve just decorated the local landscape with our armour.”

  “So we run?” Tris didn’t sound scared, only determined. Perhaps a little pissed, too. Good for him.

  “We run,” she agreed. “But only because he’ll expect us to.”

  They ran.

  Kyra led them directly away from their attacker at first, not trying to be quiet, hoping their assailant would be taking more care with his approach. The density of trees kept the undergrowth to a minimum, and the rise and fall of the land would make it hard for him to pick them off from a distance. Iridescent insects winged away as they sprinted past, proof that Kreon’s World was not entirely devoid of life.

  She stopped them after a couple of minutes, pleased to see Tristan was fit enough to recover his breath straight away.