Embers of Esper: A Sci Fi Adventure (Warden's Legacy Book 1)

by Tony James Slater

  These had to be some of Issi’s soldiers. They pushed forward, and the crowd parted to let them through. Alek greeted them, and convinced the few that began to kneel not to bother.

  “At least some got out,” Tris said — and regretted it immediately. Celebrating the survivors probably wasn’t where Kyra’s head was at right now, but luckily she wasn’t listening to him.

  “The girl,” she said, tapping Alek on the shoulder. “We need to leave her here.”

  Alek’s face clouded over, but he turned back to the men and began issuing orders. Lukas vanished up the ramp and returned with the crown princess of Esper, cradled in his arms like a child. She had to be older than Tarri, but the nightdress hung off her emaciated frame. She looked dead, and Tris didn’t want to think about what losing her would do to Kyra.

  An agreement was struck, and the camouflaged soldiers bore Jenna off between them. Lukas stared after her, clearly torn; letting a patient out of his sight had to be eating away at the doctor part of his soul. He’d have to get over it, Tris thought. If they were going to try storming Laugarren, they couldn’t afford to leave him here. Alek was a different story; he’d proven his resilience, but he was still the weakest link on their team. Leaving him here to care for his daughter would mean one less civilian to worry about. His knowledge of local tech was handy, though. If anyone could help them sneak around Laugarren under the Lord High Commander’s nose, it was a former resident.

  Tris’ mind was wandering. He hadn’t really been following the conversation. He was gazing up at the underside of the platforms above, wondering why these people felt the need to build their dwellings so high. Were there monsters in these woods? Big ones? Or did they just enjoy the view?

  He was startled from his reverie by the arrival of more young men, this time wearing only partial camo. It looked like they’d been roused by their mates and sent down here double-time, pulling on bits of their uniforms as they went. One of them bore a cushion on a metal frame, which he unfolded to form a stretcher, and Tris noticed that Kyra was conspicuously absent. He didn’t want to touch her mind right now, so he studied his boots and waited for her to return.

  When she did, it was with Issi’s body clutched tightly against her.

  A gasp came from the crowd, and this time they did drop to their knees — every single one of them. Tris’ time with Issi hadn’t really reinforced the notion that she was royalty, but it was evident here — these people not only knew her, but respected her. Grief and anguish rolled off the crowd, and Tris squelched his Gift again. He’d felt enough of those emotions already today, and really didn’t need to experience them vicariously through forty or fifty stunned civilians. He stood back, allowing Kyra to place her sister on the stretcher. There were no words that could encompass such an occasion; dead silence accompanied the stretcher bearers, as they set off back the way they’d come.

  Kyra watched her sister leave for the last time, then bowed her head. The crowd began to break up, shuffling away with shell-shocked murmurs. What they’d just witnessed was a story they’d be telling their grandchildren, no doubt. Kyra paid them no heed, standing in solemn contemplation until the last of them had disappeared. Eventually she seemed to snap out of it, and came over to join the rest of the team by the knackered hover car.

  Lukas gave her a look brimming with compassion. He stopped short of touching her, but his need to offer comfort was as clear as day. “So.” He let out a long, slow breath, and ran a hand through his hair. “What next?”

  Kyra glanced up at him, then at Tris. There was no compassion in her face; her eyes were smouldering embers of malice. “That’s easy,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Now, we kill some people.”

  THIRTY

  The atmosphere inside the hover car was subdued as they headed back along the trail.

  Their destination was the ruined base, where they’d emerged following their escape from the Laugarren Underground. With the odds of successfully mounting a frontal assault on the city quite obviously zero, they had just one chance to make this work; a sneak attack, going in the same way they’d come out. It was a big risk. The commander’s troops may well have compromised the tunnel, though it seemed unlikely they’d have used it to attack the Harrespil. The super-tight, single-file nature of that route meant that it would takes ages to get a sizeable force through. Issi’s scouts had been keeping a careful watch on the entrance; surely, if Laugarren troops had started pouring out of it and assembling into battle order, there’d have been time to evacuate.

  Tris kept his mind roaming the area as they closed in, finding no sign of enemies. He couldn’t let his guard down, though; the first robot they’d encountered had been at the other end of that tunnel, and the Gift wouldn’t warn him even if they were stacked fifty-deep in there.

  The moss-covered metal and overgrown wreckage came into sight, and Kyra slackened their speed. Tris felt her straining out in search of threats, and redoubled his own efforts. As far as he could tell, the ancient base was deserted.

  She set them down in the shelter of a jagged wall and popped the hatch.

  Alek was still with them; he’d refused any suggestion of staying in the Commune, even with his daughter there. He seemed to think that she’d be safer the further away he was, and there was an element of truth to that. Issi had been keeping his presence a secret because he was such a recognisable figure; spies in her camp might have reported his presence there. It may well have been Alek, rather than Kyra, who had inadvertently brought down the raid — not that Tris was going to mention that.

  They spread out as they moved through the undergrowth. It was getting darker by the minute, and soon they’d be forced to use flashlights to avoid hurting themselves. Lukas was sticking close to Alek, though he’d returned the Aegis on the journey over here. Tris hoped he would keep that in mind, and not try stopping laser blasts with his chest anytime soon.

  The entrance to the tunnel was exactly how they’d left it — a heavy steel door, warped so badly in its frame so that it looked like it would take a blowtorch to open it. Canted back at a forty-five degree angle, it appeared to lead nowhere — just a random piece of wreckage, flung into its current position by that long-ago explosion. Which Tris was fairly certain Kyra had caused, but again, this was hardly the time to quiz her about that.

  He reached for the door — but felt her hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  The others gathered around, and Kyra spoke to them in a low voice. “Once we open that door, we’re committed. We might walk right into a pack of Laugarren shock troops at the other end, so we need to have our shit in order.”

  Tris clipped his rifle to his back and freed his knife and staff, twisting them together. If it was more machines they encountered, he wanted to be ready.

  “We’ve got two priorities,” Kyra continued. “The first is Tarri. We find her, and we get her to safety.” Her gaze travelled around the group. “No matter what else happens, we get her out. Okay? I am not losing any more family members today.”

  Tris nodded gravely. “Priority two is killing the commander, right?”

  Kyra’s stare was penetrating. “No. That piece of shit can go screw himself. Priority two is finding the Master Key.”

  Tris’ eyes went wide. With so much going on, he’d completely forgotten there was a doomsday device mixed up in all of this. “Ah… didn’t Issi have it?”

  Lukas rubbed his face. He was starting to grow stubble. “You think they took it from her place?”

  Kyra took a deep breath before answering. “I know they did. When we left, she was wearing it. I made her promise to keep it on her. You might not have noticed, but when we found her she was missing a finger. The bastards who killed her cut it off.”

  The revelation that Laugarren’s unhinged commander now had possession of the most dangerous piece of tech on Esper turned the mood even darker.

  With weapons in hand, they entered the tunnel in singl
e file. Kyra took the lead, while Tris stayed at the back. He shut the door, plunging them into total darkness, which was only relieved when Lukas flicked on his rifle light. The temperature dropped five degrees just from being in there; it would get colder as they went deeper into the earth. With no enemies leaping out at them, they trudged back down the long, sloping tunnel. Bare rock crowded in on all sides, reducing Tris’ view to scattered glimpses between the arms and legs in front of him. His Gift took most of his concentration though, as he stretched out to the limits of his range. For now, he found no-one; just his three weary companions, each nursing thoughts with varying degrees of bleakness.

  They hit the lit section, and Tris was immeasurably grateful; the same fear of entombment he’d experienced on their last trip through the tunnel had come back in force. He’d almost rather have been fighting their way along, just to take his mind off it. When they passed the last of the lights, he felt the weight of earth above him bearing down, and his breath came faster. Chill out, he told himself. This is meant to be the easy part!

  And then a human mind flickered onto his mental radar, and he hissed at the others to wait. They came to a halt, Kyra sensing the connection he’d made. Rather than try to include her, he focussed instead on his target — the mindset of this person would give them a much greater understanding of what they were walking into. He was reading a strong sense of determination and purpose, along with a good deal of anger. Some grief, too; whoever this was, it seemed like they’d had a worse day than Tris had. And that’s when he twigged. “It’s all good,” he said, relief flooding out with the words. “He’s a Resistance fighter. I guess there’s at least one of them left alive. But he doesn’t feel like he’s being hunted, so that’s also a good sign.”

  Lukas twisted around to give him a thumbs-up, then set off walking after Kyra. She quickened the pace, and every few footsteps Tris found another mind to examine. The news wasn’t great; judging by the amount of pain and anguish he was getting, there were a lot of dead and dying people in the Underground. But the simple fact that the survivors had regrouped in the same facility suggested they’d driven the commander’s troops off — either that, or they’d hidden long enough for the enemy to lose interest.

  They were reaching the end of the tunnel when Kyra broke the best news of all. “Alek! Your sister’s alive! Jen’s inside the complex, tending the wounded.”

  Alek laughed — a short, nervous sound — and made no further comment.

  Tris was stunned. He hadn’t realised Alek and Jen were related. For starters, there was an age gap of at least fifty years… but of course, that was part of the commander’s cruelty. Jen had grown old, when Kyra hadn’t — that was going to be a shock for Alek, if he hadn’t seen her in a while.

  That’s why Aldur is so good with his tablet, he realised. He must be Alek’s nephew. Wow, he won the genetic lottery — he got the mad hacking skills, without the borderline personality disorder.

  They reached the end of the tunnel and Kyra pushed on the wall. It popped free, falling into the corridor beyond with a clatter. She stepped through, putting her hands up as Tris sensed one of the Resistance fighters nearby reacting to her arrival.

  “It’s okay,” she said, “We’re from the Harrespil.”

  “We?” The soldier registered more surprise, as Lukas squeezed out into the corridor. Then he caught sight of Alek, and his brain kind of froze. “But— It’s—? Y— Your… Royal Highness?”

  Alek was startled too, then suddenly dusted himself down and made an effort to stand taller. “Yup, that’s me,” he said, utterly ruining his effort to appear regal. “Is my sister around?”

  “Y—yes,” the man stammered, lowering his rifle as he realised he was pointing it at the second-most powerful person on the planet. “She’s… um… in the hospital.”

  Alek raised his chin, and adopted a more haughty tone. “Very well, my good man. If it pleases you, kindly transport us into her presence.”

  The soldier blinked at him, confused.

  Tris leaned through the hole. “Take us to your leader,” he paraphrased.

  The ‘hospital’ the man referred to was the same room where Tris and Lukas had spent a chunk of the previous night — an old lecture theatre or briefing room, with dozens of seats arranged in long rows facing a viewscreen. The screen had been smashed during that night’s excitement, and a further reminder greeted them as they entered; the headless body of the girl-robot lay propped up in the far corner, wires trailing from its neck. Presumably, it was too heavy to carry out.

  Injured men and women filled the room, stretched out on the chairs where Tris had been sleeping less than twenty-four hours ago. More had been laid out on the floor, and a handful of grey-clad figures moved between their patients with portable medi-kits and arms full of bandages.

  Jenofa was bent over a young woman on the first row of chairs. Her silver hair was tied back out of the way, and her wizened hands moved up and down the girl’s body, probing for injuries.

  The soldier cleared his throat. “Uh, ma’am… we’ve got some visitors to see you.”

  “Later,” Jen growled, without straightening. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Let’s come back later,” Alek suggested.

  It was like an electric shock went through the old lady. She stiffened, and didn’t move for a pair of heartbeats. When she did, it was like all the hurt and years of struggle fell away from her. There was wonder in her eyes as she sauntered over to them, barely glancing at Tris and Kyra. Her gaze was fixed on her brother, as she came to stand in front of him.

  “Alek! Gods and stars! It is you. What on Esper are you doing here?”

  He gave an awkward flap of his hands. “I dunno. You said I should visit, so…”

  “Alek… that was thirty years ago!”

  He scuffed the floor with one foot. “You never said I had to visit right now.”

  They waited while Jen washed a substantial amount of blood off her hands — and then immediately started dressing Kyra’s wounds. No amount of protesting persuaded her to stop, and Kyra soon became the proud bearer of a snow-white bandage wrapped around her upper arm.

  Tris considered asking if they had something for the pain, but to be honest it was the only thing keeping him awake. He’d been running on adrenaline ever since Tarri’s shuttle had been shot down, and he was starting to doubt the wisdom of launching an all-out assault on Laugarren when he could barely string a sentence together.

  Alek, amazingly, had survived the barge ordeal without so much as a scratch. And Lukas explained that, whilst only slightly injured, his muscles were extremely tight from overuse. Kyra narrowed her eyes at him, but he was to be disappointed — Jen informed him that the only qualified masseuse in her army had been killed in the previous night’s fighting.

  They retreated from the chaos of the hospital, and took seats around the conference table in the room that resembled Mission Control. They had a lot to talk about.

  “I can’t believe Viktor’s really back,” Jen said. “There were rumours that the commander had been looking for allies off-world, but…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Treachery. We can’t sit still for this.”

  “Robots, too,” Lukas added. He span his grotesque new paperweight on the table. He’d acquired it from the floor of the hospital — the severed head of the girl that had attacked them, neatly lopped off by Tris. The skin, whilst incredibly realistic at first glance, had proved to be a painted, rubbery substance that could be peeled away to reveal the smooth metal face underneath. It was one of the most disturbing things Tris had seen, and he’d been through a lot over the last few months. “We even saw another one like this. It was designed to look like the princess. We couldn’t decide if it was a trap, or a way to help him take over.”

  “More talos?” Jen scowled at the trophy. “That ties them both together, in a crime far worse than just invading Lehen. We need to show the people.”

  Kyra put her head in her hands,
letting multi-coloured strands of hair hang over her face before tucking them behind her ears. “Viktor is a talos,” she said. “Or he was. He didn’t survive that last battle, when you took us up there and we…” She closed her eyes, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  Jen exchanged a glance with her, and it was full of sadness. “So we did right?”

  “We did,” Kyra confirmed. “We couldn’t know that he had a memory engram installed, and that his people would manage to pry it from the wreckage.”

  “An engram!” Jen’s eyes went wide. “So that’s how! And he’s in a robot body now?”

  “Was,” Kyra corrected her. “I chopped it to bits. Chopped up a few of them, actually. But memory engrams are insanely expensive. Even Viktor can’t have more than a couple. He had a ton of robots with him, but most of them were pretty dumb. I smashed all the ones with faces, so hopefully that’s the end of it.”

  “Pfft! No,” Alek said, with far more sarcasm than was necessary. “A robot can’t run a memory engram. You need a hundred times more processing power. An order of magnitude.” He spoke like he was explaining the alphabet to a toddler. “He was just controlling them. That’s why he could counter my hacking. Viktor wasn’t a talos. Viktor was the barge.”

  Kyra glared daggers at him. “We blew the barge to bits, too. I don’t care what bit he was hiding in. It’s scrap.”

  Alek gave an elaborate shrug. “Unless he’s in the other one.”

  The air in the room went very still. “Other one?” Kyra’s tone was poisonous.

  Alek seemed not to notice. “The other barge. The Liberty. You said he’s got a couple of memory engrams, right? It stands to reason that he’s inhabited that one, too.”

  Tris felt the world tilt beneath him. “Wait a minute… you’re saying that we’ve got to go through all that again?”

  “Not exactly the same,” Alek said, and he at least had the decency to look concerned. “He’ll know who you are now, and be expecting all of us.”