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

by Tony James Slater

Now that really was a ridiculous idea.

  The lobby had several exits, so she picked the one direction from which she sensed the most turmoil, and went that way. Aldur clomped along behind her as she led the way down a corridor identical to all the others in this place. It was clearly designed to disorientate, with lobby after lobby and passageways radiating off each of them like the fingers of a hand.

  Luckily, Kyra had plenty of landmarks. The first was a bloody knot of prisoners who must have overcome the guards in their section. Armed with captured knives and stun-rifles, they stalked warily towards her.

  “It’s all good,” she said, making her swords blunt so she could rest them on her shoulders. “We’re the ones that set you free.”

  “Killed us, you mean,” one of the prisoners growled. “You know what they’ll do to us, right? When the shock troops arrive? Mattias there only had a month left on his sentence.”

  She waved his concerns away. “Mattias is going home early. We all are. What I need you to do is gather everyone else you can find, and take them to the security lobby below the main entrance. We’ll do the same. I’m sure we can gather enough warm bodies to handle a few shock troops.”

  The man recoiled from that suggestion. His crew-cut was growing out, as was a scraggly, matted beard; he’d been in here for some time then. “Are you mad? They’ll tear us apart! These crappy shockers won’t even penetrate their armour.”

  Kyra dropped her bag to the floor with a thump, and crouched down to open it. “A nice old lady told me that all Laugarrens are soldiers,” she said, pulling out a rifle and tossing it to the bearded man. “So I’m guessing you know how to use this?”

  His eyes had gone wide; now they quickly took stock of the weapon’s condition, turning it this way and that before powering it on.

  “There’s powerpacks in the bag, too,” Kyra nudged it towards him with her foot. “Take some spares and dish them out. If we arm everyone in here, we’ll outnumber whatever forces they send to clean up.”

  With a real weapon in his hand, the scruffy prisoner stood a little taller. He gestured to his fellows. “She’s right. Grab that gear.”

  They obeyed him without question, leading Kyra to suspect that he’d been an officer before his incarceration.

  “What’s your plan?” he asked her, as his impromptu squad armed themselves.

  “There’s no way we can sneak out of here with the entire inmate population,” she admitted. “Not when those sirens have been blaring all this time. It’s going to come down to a fight, and it won’t be pretty. If you get the urge to go back to your cell, I won’t hold it against you. Though I can’t promise it’ll go much better in there.”

  The prisoner chuckled. “Nah, I was getting sick of that cell.” He scratched himself, releasing a pungent whiff of body odour. “I only had one month left on my sentence too. But I was going to be shot at the end of it.”

  Kyra progressed through several more sections of the prison, encountering stiff resistance in some and finding nothing but escaped convicts in others. The pact she’d made with herself was quite liberating, allowing her swords to take lives and limbs with fresh abandon. The mounting guilt was easily assuaged by reminding herself that once this was all over, she’d experiment with only killing people who deserved it. Or who really pissed her off.

  And anyone who’s rude has to go. There’s just no need for that shit.

  They came across so many freed prisoners that she quickly ran out of weapons to offer, and began describing the route back to the armoury. It was the same place she was hoping to assemble them anyway, and the promise of real weapons worked wonders on people in various stages of panic.

  Finally, she realised that she couldn’t sense anyone else in front of her. Since they’d been following a systematic pattern that Aldur had come up with, she figured they’d visited the furthest reaches of the underground warren. It was a simple thing to find her way back; the crowd of people massing below the entrance burned like a beacon in her mind. “Looks like we’re done with stage one,” she said to Aldur, as they retraced their steps.

  He looked worried. “I have a nasty feeling that we’ve just condemned a lot of people to their deaths.”

  She frowned at him. “That is the definition of a revolution, right? I’m not getting the word wrong?”

  “I guess… I just… we weren’t ready for this.”

  “If not now, when? How long has your mother been skulking down there, planning her revenge? How long have you been looking for a chance to change things? You can only wait so long before people start to lose hope.”

  “So you think it’s better to just throw them all headlong into a battle they can’t hope to win?”

  “Oh, they’ll win,” she grinned at him. “Trust me — this is what I do best.”

  They jogged back through the corridors, passing the occasional corpse. She scanned the area with the Gift as she went, making sure they weren’t leaving anyone behind. Plenty of Laugarrens had chosen to remain in their cells, and she left them to it; so long as they didn’t interfere with her little uprising, they could do whatever they wanted. She hadn’t encountered any robots though, and she was starting to wonder if the commander had only had that one. A gift from Viktor, maybe, to help root out his enemies? As well as a subtle threat; it can’t have escaped the commander’s notice that his ‘ally’ was building a force which could tear Laugarren apart from the ground up.

  When they reached the main security lobby, it was rammed. The armoury was all but empty, the only things left being the kind of heavy ordinance that needed someone in powered armour to carry them.

  That reminded her of Lukas, and she dug the transmitter out of her pocket. “Hey, are you up there? Have we got company yet?”

  “Yeah, they’re outside,” he came back. Static crackled around his voice. “I’ve been calling with reports, but I don’t think the range on these things is very good. I’m two floors up, in the building above the prison entrance. They don’t know I’m here yet, but they’ll find out soon enough if they scan the place.”

  “They won’t,” Kyra assured him. “They’re under pressure too, remember? The commander will be expecting results. I’ll bet he’s given orders to get in here and start shooting as soon as possible.”

  “I dunno… it looks an awful lot like they’re waiting for something.”

  “We’re nearly ready,” she told him. “Keep me informed.” Then she clipped the transmitter to her belt and shoved her way through to a bit of open space around the foot of the stairs. This was the closest to freedom these people had been for some time, and it was to their credit that they hadn’t all just legged it out of the entrance and tried to vanish into the city.

  Maybe that’s not an option. If the commander found them once, he can always do so again… I guess that’s the next problem that needs solving.

  But there was no point getting ahead of herself.

  Wrapping her swords around her waist, she put two fingers in her mouth and gave a whistle that cut through the commotion like a buzz-saw.

  All eyes turned towards her, and most of the group came to something approximating a parade-rest. They were already formed up into ranks, she noticed, as though that was perfectly natural behaviour for a crowd. Perhaps one in three of them carried a firearm, and those individuals had spread themselves out amongst the rest in a most satisfying manner.

  That’s going to make this a lot easier, Kyra thought. Damn, I wish all my prison breaks were military ones.

  Facing the assembled troops — because that’s what they were, of course — she struck a defiant pose, and pitched her voice to reach them all. “Some of you might know who I am,” she began.

  “The rainbow-haired temptress?” someone at the back called out.

  “My kid’s school books call her The Deceiver,” another muttered.

  Kyra rolled her eyes. She probably should have seen that coming. “Yeah, well… don’t believe everything you read. Look, I think you al
l know who the real deceiver is. The Lord High Commander has built his whole power base on lies, and he’s slowly squeezing every trace of hope out of you. He’s paranoid, unhinged, and a sadistic bastard to boot. He’s turned the whole of Laugarren into a prison.” She pointed up the stairs. “The people out there are no more free than you are in here. That’s what I’ve come to change. It’s time to take back this city. I’m going to liberate these people from fear and oppression — whether they like it or not.”

  A tall, wiry man in the front row grunted. “Oh yeah? You and whose army?”

  Kyra blinked. That wasn’t quite the reaction she’d been hoping for. She flapped a hand at the surrounding prisoners. “I’m sorry, does this not qualify?”

  “Relax,” the man said, “I’m joking.”

  Kyra narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t think that was allowed in Laugarren.”

  He gave her a grin. “Why do you think I’m in here?”

  She’d just finished dispersing her soldiers when the transmitter at her belt crackled. She snatched it up, indicating with one sword where the last few men and woman should position themselves.

  “There’s another vehicle arriving now,” Lukas’ voice came from the device. “They must have been waiting for reinforcements. I count twenty in the squad outside, all clustered around their APC. Assuming the second one’s the same, that’ll give you forty targets in total. Plus the guns on the carriers.”

  Kyra surveyed her set-up. It was everything she could have hoped for; staggered lines of defenders stretching across the lobby, occupying every scrap of cover (including the ruined bathroom, which she’d opened up again). Long lines of unarmed fighters straggled down several of the corridors, awaiting their turn to rush forward and plug any gaps. In a war of attrition, they held a lot of advantages; if the commander wanted to scour them out of this hole, he’d have to commit a lot more resources.

  He might even take some away from the hospital…

  But that wouldn’t help her. There was no point mounting an attack on what was probably the best place for Tarri. No, she had other plans — and they didn’t include getting stuck down here for a protracted firefight.

  “Lukas, you ready with that distraction?”

  There was a burst of static. “Thought you’d never ask! Let me see what’s in this tube…”

  She heard the tinkle of shattering glass — then a split second later, a massive explosion made the ground quake. Shock and pain washed over her — not her own, she was quick to recognise, but the projections of the shock troops outside. She’d been keeping a weather-eye on them, not wanting to be surprised, and now she was paying the price. Closing out their wave of suffering, she reached instead for Lukas — and found him both appalled and impressed at his handiwork.

  And about to do the same again.

  She watched through his eyes as he sent a second missile streaking towards its target — the approaching APC, this one presumably fully-manned. It veered off to the side, screeching to a halt. The destruction of the first vehicle must have alerted them to the danger, but there wasn’t a lot they could do about it. At this range, they were impossible to miss — even without the sophisticated guidance systems built into the warhead.

  The second detonation seemed louder than the first, perhaps because she was watching it live. As soon as the fireball erupted from the vehicle, she pulled her attention back inside. “Hear that?” she shouted over the din from upstairs. “That sounds to me like the start of a revolution.” She freed her other sword and gave it a twirl. “Whaddaya say we get the hell out of here?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Kyra charged up the stairs with an army at her back.

  Security doors flew by to either side; Aldur must have opened them without asking. The ground-level entrance to the prison was a wide open hallway, scattered with rubble and draped with bodies. A whole chunk of the shock troops’ vehicle had smashed in through the front doors, bringing at least two of its former occupants with it. The reception staff had been sheltering on the far side of their desk, preparing to fight Kyra. Unfortunately for them, death had struck from the opposite side of the room, in the form of shrapnel chunks the size of serving trays.

  Ignoring it all, Kyra led her ragtag force up to where the heavy doors lay, torn violently from their hinges and warped by the blast.

  She reconnected to the minds outside, making sure she wasn’t running out into a crossfire. They had regrouped, which spoke of impressive discipline under fire, and she slowed her pace. The prisoners milled around her, and she waved at them to stop. They automatically split into two groups, moving into cover either side of the entrance. They were good, she’d give them that; she’d always scoffed at the Laugarrens obsession with military service, but it came in handy at times like these.

  They were inches from freedom. The first grey light of dawn filtered down through a cloud of dust, which was just now starting to settle. A disturbing smell of charred meat drifted in from outside, mingling with the fear-soaked sweat surrounding her.

  Carefully, she approached the opening. The surviving shock troops were crouched beside the largest chunk of wreckage; six of them in all, two of whom had sustained injuries. All of them were thinking the same thing, though — they were all focussed on their next move.

  Which was to storm the prison.

  Are they nuts? It was one thing for her to rush into a death-trap like this, but a decimated, unsupported squad who’d probably never seen real combat? Man, the commander really has them terrified if they’d rather face us than face him.

  Still, it was a testament to their courage that they were even considering it.

  Kind of a pity that it would mean the end of them.

  “Heavy weapons,” Kyra hissed. “Hose their position while I slip out. Then keep them pinned down until I give the all-clear.”

  The man with the scraggly beard, who was toting one of the more impressive guns from the arsenal, gave her a funny look. “You’re going out there alone?”

  “I came in that way.” She glanced at Aldur. “Well, mostly.”

  Just then, she caught a spark of intent from the troops outside. She held a warning hand out to her men, as a torrent of laser fire stabbed deep into the room. Someone screamed, caught out of cover, and Kyra adjusted her strategy. If those guys were determined to charge in, it wasn’t worth meeting them head-on. Once they crossed the threshold, she could take them apart nice and easy; hopefully they wouldn’t get too many of the prisoners before they went down.

  The shock troops came at a rush, their boots crunching rubble. They poured a steady stream of fire in through the entrance, pinning Kyra’s men against the walls.

  Five seconds… her swords were ready, and she made sure she had the elbow room to use them. Four… three…

  Then glass shattered somewhere above them, raining musically into the street. There was a yell — the whistle of something heavy falling — and then a colossal crunch as it landed.

  Lukas. Picking up their connection again, she saw the carnage he’d caused first-hand. A smouldering crater scarred the street, filled with burning wreckage and body parts. Lukas had seen the shock troops make their move, and reacted accordingly. Leaping from a third-storey window, he’d let two things break his fall; the powerful shock absorbers built into his armour, and the six men he’d landed on. Needless to say, he recovered quicker than they did. Two staggered to their feet, as he dispatched the rest with quick blows from his hands and feet. One of the shock troops had held onto his rifle, and managed to get a shot off; Lukas twisted to take it on his shoulder, the heavy pauldron smoking with the impact, before lunging at the guy and punching his lights out. The last man standing was barely doing that — he weaved and wobbled for a few seconds, before collapsing next to his partner.

  Kyra was out of the building in a flash, scouring the area for any sign of reinforcements. So far, they were in the clear. “Nice move,” she said, as the prisoners flowed out of the building behind her.r />
  Lukas slapped his thighs, steel gauntlets ringing on the heavy armour. “Didn’t even need a grav-belt for that one!”

  “You can’t always land on pedestrians,” she pointed out.

  “That’s why I tried it. Don’t get the chance very often.”

  The prisoners were already spreading out, establishing a defensive perimeter. Fires crackled all over the area, their flickering light picking out hazardous wreckage and fallen weapons. Thick columns of smoke rose steadily into the silvering sky, signalling the start of a new day in no uncertain terms.

  The newly-liberated men and women moved like clockwork through their self-appointed tasks. Their emotional state varied from shock to elation, but they maintained their focus; after all, they’d been training for this their whole lives.

  Kyra reached out beyond them, seeking for minds in the surrounding buildings. She was surprised to find quite a lot of them, dotted around a row of residential structures further down the street. The prevailing mood amongst them was one of horrified fascination. Hardly surprising; this wasn’t the kind of thing they saw every day, and the shock troops were a lot less popular than the escaping prisoners. She smiled to herself. Turning the commander’s draconian tactics against him by freeing the people he’d unjustly imprisoned was a master-stoke. Winning their first engagement so dramatically was a bonus; she hoped the local residents would be frantically spreading the word, via whatever communications channels they had available. If Aldur’s men had done their job, a certain subset of the population would already be primed for an uprising. If the rest of the citizen-soldiers followed their lead and joined in, this could all end well. If not…

  It would be a bloodbath.

  Hundreds of innocent Esperians would lose their lives.

  And it’ll be all my fault… again.

  She felt a world-weary sigh welling up from within her.

  Why does it always have to be me? Just for once I’d like to watch someone else lead a coup. She thought about Tris, up there on the Ring; no chance. He’s too soft. Likewise, Lukas was far too honourable a man to throw lives away for a cause. As for the recently deceased Lord Kreon… sure, he’d have done it, without a shadow of a doubt. His morals had been as flexible as her swords; Sydon only knew how many people he’d sacrificed in pursuit of his aims. Holy crap! Is that who I’m turning into?