Tris followed her gaze to Tarri’s limp form. “Is she okay?” He moved over to stand between the front seats, reaching up to grab her wrist.
“I need to check her. Tris, catch me.”
“Wha—?” He looked up, just as Kyra pulled her quick-releases all at once. He barely had time to get his hands up before she crashed down on top of him, flattening him against what had once been the shuttle’s overhead console.
“Owww! He complained, struggling to disentangle himself. “You’re like a wrecking ball!”
She got to her feet and dusted herself down. “It’s my specialty.”
A deafening clang announced that Lukas was free; the big man had simply curled up and allowed his armour to take the brunt of his fall. Servos whined as stood up, the bulk of him dominating the available space.
Kyra uncoiled one of the swords from around her waist, and delicately slashed at Tarri’s restraints. Tris was better prepared this time, and managed to catch the girl without ending up sprawled beneath her. Her body was floppy, and she still wasn’t responding.
“Bring her outside,” Lukas said, all trace of humour gone. He pulled a miniature plasma torch from a compartment built into his thigh armour and cut the pressure doors open. It took him a lot of persuasion to force them wide enough, but once he could squeeze through sideways, the rest of them had no trouble.
The crew lounge, immediately behind the cockpit, had been shredded. Only a few long structural members had survived, sticking out at odd angles like the bones of some huge metal monster. Jagged bits of hull-plating still clung to them; Lukas climbed past it all, jumping down to the leaf-strewn ground. He reached back up for Tarri, and Tris lowered the girl gently into his arms. Kyra dropped down next, as Lukas carried the unconscious girl a short distance away from the wreckage and laid her out on the ground. By the time Tris reached them, the former combat medic had already finished his examination.
“Here.” He pointed to a substantial egg at her temple. It was purple and swollen. “A bulkhead beside her got pushed in during the crash. It’s a nasty hit; she could be bleeding internally. We need to get her to a med-scanner now.”
Kyra straightened, looking back at the trail of debris left by their unconventional landing. “Shit. We had a portable one…”
Lukas joined her, staring along the path of devastation. “I’m glad you brought so many rifles,” he said.
Tris winced. He knew Kyra much better than Lukas did; it was one thing to joke around in times of high-stress, but this was different. Her niece was badly injured; there was a good chance she was taking it personally.
“Can we call for help?” he suggested, hoping to diffuse an ugly situation.
Kyra’s withering stare dialled down a notch when she looked at him, and she shook her head. “Comms on Esper go via the Ring, or not at all. We’re offline until we can lay our hands on some registered comm devices.”
That was news to Tris, and not the good kind. “You’re telling me that we’ve got Ella and the Folly sitting up there in orbit, and we can’t even call them for help?”
“It wouldn’t make a difference. Neither of them can get through the Ring’s defences.” Kyra stalked back to gaze down at her niece, as though willing her to wake up.
Feeling useless, Tris took the girl’s hand and felt for a pulse. It was there, but even he could tell that it was weak. “Should we strap her to something? You know, in case she’s hurt her back?”
Lukas had been studying their surroundings, perhaps giving Kyra a moment to cool off. Now he rejoined them, his shadow swallowing the prone girl. “Sorry, mate.” He raised an armour-clad hand to indicate the forest around them. “She hasn’t got time. If we’re carrying her through this crap, a spine-board would slow us down too much. I hate to say it, but… if her neck’s broken, we’re already too late.”
“GODDAMNIT!” Kyra yelled, storming away and giving vent to her rage by kicking a piece of wreckage. She stood silently for a few seconds, visibly trembling, while she got a grip on herself.
Tris’ heart went out to her. He’d never had a little sister, but he could imagine how protective he’d feel if he did. Kyra generally avoided getting close to people, because she hated feeling responsible for them; Tarri had short-circuited that mechanism, leaving her vulnerable.
He opened the Gift, wondering if it could give him any insights into the girl’s condition. Sleeping minds seemed to sink to lower frequencies than that of waking ones, but they could be found if you knew what to look for. Unfortunately, all he could find when he quested towards Tarri was a hazy fog of mental static. If he had to guess, he’d say that didn’t bode well…
And there was worse news. At the very limit of his Gift-range, he sensed several perfectly-healthy minds… and they were coming this way.
“Guys,” he said, causing them both to turn toward him. “We’ve got incoming. Soldiers heading right for us, and they’re moving fast.”
“Laugarrens,” Kyra snarled. “How many? How close?”
“A lot. They’ll be here any minute… if we’re going to get out of here, we’ve got to do it now.”
Kyra and Lukas traded glances, then both looked down at Tarri.
The big man shook his head. “We can’t move her. Not fast enough to run.”
Kyra remained frozen for a few seconds, processing the options. Then she closed her eyes, seeming to come to a decision. “Ah, screw it. I need to have words with these fuckers anyway.”
“They’re the ones that shot us down?” Tris hazarded.
“Yes. And you know how I feel about that.” She uncoiled the swords from her belt and swished them around to loosen her arms. “You guys get out of here,” she said, flicking a glance at the surrounding trees. “This one’s on me.”
“Like hell!” Tris pulled the two halves of his main weapon from their attachment points on his thighs. His dad’s impossibly-sharp knife locked into one end of the short handle, which extended to staff-length when he squeezed the centre.
With a whine of servos, Lukas turned his back to Tarri’s body and adopted a combat stance. Blades extended from his armoured gauntlets, though like the rest of them he had no ranged weaponry. “Have they got tanks?” he asked. “We can take ‘em, so long as they don’t have tanks.” A distant rumble of engines rose to drown out the buzzing insects, and he made a face. “Might only be one,” he said.
The noise quickly grew to a roar, spreading out to come from both sides at once. Tris touched the approaching minds, confirming that they were split between two vehicles.
“One coming here, and one over there,” he pointed off into the trees. “They’re not in a friendly mood.”
“Neither am I,” said Kyra.
It didn’t matter how much warning they had. Nothing could have stopped the small army that poured from the surrounding trees. The crash had created a long, narrow clearing, with the wrecked shuttle at its far end. That left a stretch of open ground, strewn with toppled trees and chunks of spaceship, into which the grey-clad soldiers streamed. Wearing ash-coloured combat suits that bulged with built-in body armour, and matching helmets with mirrored visors, they moved through the rough terrain with practiced ease.
The two vehicles which swung in after them were open-topped APCs. They floated above the forest floor on hover jets, moving up in support of the squads they’d ferried here. Mounted atop each vehicle, a multi-barrelled laser cannon tracked towards Tris, Kyra and Lukas, as the soldiers advanced in two lines.
Tris took this all in, and rapidly made his assessment: we’re screwed.
A loudspeaker on one of the transports blared. “Drop your weapons!”
“You want them?” Kyra gave her swords a twirl. “Come and get ‘em.”
The barrel of a laser cannon swivelled slightly, and a brilliant bolt of energy lashed out from it. It slammed into the ground right in front of Kyra, showering her with leaves and soil. As the dust settled, she turned her head to the side and spat out a mouthful of dirt. �
��You missed.”
It was an impressive display of arrogance, but Tris knew it couldn’t go much further. The soldiers had surrounded them now, at least twenty of them, all training their rifles with deadly intent. He was well aware of the Arranozapar’s capabilities; under the right circumstances, Kyra could decapitate half this crowd with a single stroke. The vehicles, too, would be easy prey for her blades… but not before they’d turned everyone in the clearing into smoking piles of meat.
We can’t win this, he sent to her. Not now.
I can see that. Her response was laced with sarcasm. But I’m not just going to bend over.
A door opened in the side of the nearest APC, and a uniformed officer leapt out. Tall and whip-thin, he wore the same dust-grey fatigues as his men, but flashes of silver on his sleeves and at his collar denoted some kind of rank. He trudged over to where Kyra was still facing off against the soldiers, and planted himself behind their line with his hands behind his back. A wolfish smile spread across his face as he studied his captives.
“Come now,” he said, addressing all of them. “You are to be honoured guests! The Lord High Commander of Laugarren himself has requested your company.”
Kyra’s eyes narrowed. “Lord High, eh? He’s moving up in the world. Would you mind telling His Lordship that we’re a tad busy right now?”
The man’s smile faded. “When the Lord High Commander asks for something, it’s my job to deliver it.” He looked to the side, where one of his men was standing over Tarri’s body. “Shoot the girl,” he said.
“Wait!” Kyra stepped forward and threw her swords to the ground. All her bluster vanished in an instant. She raised her hands, opening them to prove they were empty. “She’s my niece. Don’t hurt her.”
The line of soldiers kept their weapons trained, as one of them ducked down to scoop up the swords. Tris shrunk his staff and dropped it into the dirt. He hated being parted from it, but at least it was going to be collected. Hopefully none of these guys would realise how powerful it was.
The officer took the swords, admiring them, then handed them off to another of his men. Two soldiers from the line slung their rifles and grabbed Kyra’s arms, forcing them into a pair of high-tech wrist restraints. Two more did the same to Tris, fastening his hands in front of him; a mournful squeak came from Lukas’ armour as he powered it down.
A chime drew their attention to the man standing by Tarri. “It’s her,” he said, holding up a wand-like device.
The officer turned a mock-surprised expression on Kyra. “Well now, that is a coincidence. Your niece just happens to be a runaway princess! What are the chances?”
* * *
They made the trip to Laugarren in the back of the APC. Thick cables were attached to their restraints, and threaded through a bar built into the vehicle’s floor. Tris and Kyra were shoved into seats opposite Lukas, who pretty much needed two seats to himself. Soldiers filled the rest of the vehicle, with a few displaced souls clipping themselves to the sides and standing on running boards. Their weapons, and Lukas’ power armour, went into the other APC. Tarri was lifted into that one, too — strapped to a board, thankfully, which at least meant they weren’t planning on killing her straight away.
As they set off through the forest, Tris cleared his throat. No-one had forbidden them from talking, but there was a pretty good chance he was about to earn a smack in the mouth. So,” he said, “What’s Laugarren like this time of year?”
“It’s a shit-hole,” Kyra said, her words filled with venom. That did earn her a whack; the soldier next to her backhanded her across the face. She saw it coming of course, but she didn’t flinch. Tris squeezed his eyes shut in sympathy. There couldn’t have been much force in the blow, with them all strapped into the same row of seats, but it didn’t take much to split a lip or break a nose.
Kyra merely spat blood onto the floor between her feet, and carried on. “Laugarren is a bombed-out ruin. My ancestors reduced the whole city to rubble, using the guns up on the Ring.” She turned to look at the soldier beside her, as though inviting him to strike her again. He raised his hand threateningly, but didn’t deliver.
Lukas made pleading eyes at her from across the aisle, but being captured had got Kyra all riled up; Tris could tell she was past caring what they did to her.
“These fine gentlemen live underground,” she continued, “in a squalid little bunker. They eat the same god-awful gruel every day, crammed together in the same dingy mess hall. I used to feel sorry for them, but I’m starting to wish I’d burned the whole goddamn place to the ground.” She gazed defiantly at the soldiers seated opposite, daring them to punish her.
The mirrored visors made their expressions impossible to read, but Tris could hear their thoughts loud and clear. They think she’s gone nuts, he realised. And to be honest, I’m starting to agree with them.
THIRTEEN
The hovering vehicles slid smoothly between the trees for a way, before veering out onto a man-made track. Thick undergrowth still covered the ground beneath them, but blackened stumps showed where trees had been felled to facilitate this kind of traffic. With low sides and no roof above him, Tris was free to gaze out at the forest as it whipped by. It was beautiful; a world of glistening greens and rusty browns, with shafts of sunlight filtering down to illuminate the gnarly, moss-draped trunks. The sharp smell of ferns took him straight back to England; little patches of woodland dotted the outskirts of Bristol, and he’d made a habit of seeking them out.
From what he’d seen on the way in, there was a lot of this landscape on Esper.
Must be what Earth looked like, before we spent the last two-hundred years logging the crap out of it. Under other circumstances, it would probably have been quite relaxing.
A few minutes later the trees began to thin, and they broke out into open ground. A sudden flash of shock from Kyra snapped him back to the present, and he twisted in his seat to follow her gaze. Lukas was staring too, his eyes wide and his jaw loose.
“You’re joking, right? Is that… Laugarren?”
The structure that rose in front of them was immense.
A sloping steel wall that had to be twenty-stories high stretched off into the distance in both directions. The late afternoon sun turned the polished metal to gold, glinting off dozens of weapons batteries mounted at regular intervals around the top. More turrets protruded from the facade, spaced to cover the gaps between the upper guns, and the whole gigantic edifice bristled with sensor masts, antennas and dishes. A lone tower loomed beyond it, rising like an outstretched finger thrust into the deep blue sky.
Tris tore his eyes away long enough to check on Kyra. She was still staring upwards, her face gone slack.
“Ruined, eh? How long is it since you’ve been here?”
She licked her broken lips, but said nothing.
Laugarren seemed to grow as they approached, swelling to fill the sky. When they passed into the shadow of that enormous wall, the temperature dropped ten degrees. They were slowing now, heading for a fortified entrance that looked tiny until they reached it. The wall bulged out at this point, forming columns either side of vast steel doors. A pair of turbolasers jutted from each column, tracking their vehicles as a squad of soldiers barred the way.
The hover jets quietened, and the APC sank to just a foot off the ground. An official-looking guard beckoned them on, and the huge doors ground open. They cruised slowly through, into a tunnel beneath the wall. Every surface was studded with nozzles, which Tris had to guess were yet more weapons. Jeez, these guys take their security seriously! He couldn’t help wondering what kind of enemies warranted such over-the-top defences.
After passing through a series of gates, pausing at each one for various checks and scans, they finally drifted out beneath the inner edge of the wall. The sky became visible once again. The orderly streets and buildings of a regular city spread out before them — albeit rather drab and unadorned.
That huge central tower dominated the skyline
, dwarfing every other structure. From here, Tris could see that it was actually a cluster of three cylindrical skyscrapers, two of which ended halfway up. The last one rose another twenty floors at least, sunlight winking off it like the blade of a sword. Back on Earth this might have been the headquarters of an investment bank or a tech giant, but little details made all the difference; specifically the turbolaser turrets poking out every few floors. It looked like it had been designed to repel a serious assault, whilst still providing all the swanky office space that the leaders of Laugarren could ever want.
Their pace increased as they swung onto a paved road. As far as Tris could tell, the whole place seemed to be modelled after some kind of army base. Not only were the buildings evenly-spaced and identical, so were the boxy hover cars that swung past now and then. All was measured and orderly; almost everything was grey, with just the occasional silver accent here and there, and bold red numbers identifying each block. It was eerily quiet, too. The handful of pedestrians he saw were dressed identically to the soldiers, and stood to attention with their fists over their hearts as the hover-convoy passed. The skinny officer, who was sitting in the front seat of the vehicle, returned their salutes with a nod.
Tris raised an eyebrow at Lukas; the big man was also gazing around, but with a grim look on his face.
Probably calculating the odds of fighting our way out of here… Ho-lee crap.
He had to admit, it didn’t look good.
Not what you were expecting? he asked Kyra. She’d been quiet for the last leg of the journey, both externally and internally, and he was starting to worry about her. She seemed on edge, as though something about this situation — or possibly Esper itself — was deeply unsettling.
It’s uglier, she replied. A hint of her typical mischief coloured the thought, and Tris felt himself relax a bit. He’d rather have Kyra by his side than almost anyone else in the galaxy; only Kreon had given him the same sense of invulnerability.
Embers of Esper: A Sci Fi Adventure (Warden's Legacy Book 1) Page 10
