Warden: A Novel

by Gregg Vann

  “Have you captured the Collective leaders? What about Minister Golen?”

  “They are no longer our priority, Sergeant Dura. General Malves is. I believe that he is the key to stopping this war. If the Collective troops are as spread out as you say, removing the general will cause confusion in the chain of command. That lack of direction might give us the edge we need to get on top of this.”

  But there was even more to Barent’s reasoning, something he’d decided to keep to himself. Barent secretly wondered if he could convince General Malves to give this all up—to put an end to the war, and stop the bloodshed. He knew that Minister Golen would never concede defeat, or agree to any form of compromise. It would cost him his power, and quite possibly his life. But during their conversation at the Ministry building, General Malves had expressed regrets about the past; he even held reservations about the current situation in the city. And Barent was willing to bet that those feelings were only intensifying as the fighting progressed—as more and more people died, and the damage to Le’sant grew.

  But Barent didn’t share any of those suspicions with Sergeant Dura because he wanted to keep the man sharp—lethal and focused. And also because Barent understood that killing Malves was a far safer approach than trying to convince him of anything. His death provided them with nearly the same results, so that remained the plan.

  “I’ll see if I can locate General Malves, then,” Dura said. “And for what it’s worth, Sergeant Barent, I think you’re right. The Collective army has never faced anything like this before. If they lose Malves, there will be chaos.”

  “Then let me know when you find him,” Barent replied. “We’ll continue making our way toward your position.”

  “Yes, si— Hold, please.”

  Barent heard Sergeant Dura speaking with someone else in the background. And even though their voices were excited, almost to the point of shouting, he couldn’t make out any of the actual conversation. When Sergeant Dura returned to the line, he was all business.

  “Sergeant Barent. We have troops pinned down near your location. They’re trapped in a building in the second block of the markets. Can you assist?”

  “On our way now, Sergeant Dura. Keep your head down.”

  “You too, sir.”

  Barent bent down from the platform and instructed Corporal Ennis where to go, and then he turned to Tana. “How long will it take us to get to them from here?”

  “Not even five minutes, unless we run into trouble.”

  “Yeah, well trouble seems to be everywhere right now.”

  “Yes it does,” Tana agreed. Something caught her attention and she leaned out over the side of the APC, peering past the turret. “What’s going on over there?” Tana said.

  Barent looked in the direction she indicated and saw a group of men dragging a woman down the street. He recognized at once that they were Exiles.

  “Stop!” he yelled down to Ennis. “Hold position!”

  As the APC jerked to a halt, Barent hopped off the vehicle and into the street, running toward the group of Exiles. Tana leapt out to follow him but couldn’t match his speed.

  The woman saw Barent approaching and began to scream. “Help! Help me! Please!”

  Barent counted only four Exiles, and knew he could easily take them down with his pistols. But from what he’d just learned from Sergeant Dura, Barent also knew that he needed to send a message. He drew the knife from his waist and stormed straight at the group. And before they could react, one of the Exiles fell to the ground, clutching his neck where Barent had sliced it open.

  “Do you know who I am?” he thundered.

  Barent saw the recognition dawn on their faces, and the Exiles’ anger quickly turned to fear. They dropped their captive to the street just as Tana ran up to Barent’s side, and she reached over to help the woman stand up. Tana watched as the girl sprinted off into the distance without saying a word.

  “It’s the Alpha,” one of the Exiles said.

  All three of them glanced down at their comrade, still choking to death on his own blood, and then back up at Barent.

  “Go!” he yelled at them. “Make sure the other Exiles know that I’m here, and that I’ll gut anyone who hurts the people of this city.” Then Barent stepped up closer to the trio and leaned in. “And tell them to follow the Warden’s orders…to do as they’re fucking told.”

  “As you say, Alpha,” one of the Exiles replied in a broken voice.

  Barent held the bloody knife up to their faces. “If word doesn’t get out fast enough,” he said menacingly, “I will hold each one of you responsible.”

  Barent saw the terror in their eyes. All three understood him perfectly; they would spread the message.

  “Now go!” he yelled.

  The Exiles bolted away, sprinting off in three different directions just as quickly as they could run. Bad news travels fast, and Barent was confident that word of his arrival—and his threats—would soon reach the ears of every Exile in Le’sant.

  As he brought the blade back down to his side, Barent recalled another time he’d sliced a man’s throat to send a message. When he’d killed a fellow guard for shooting a defenseless child—a little girl whose only crimes were looking out of a window at the wrong time, and being the daughter of someone too powerless to protect her.

  Five hundred years later, Barent thought to himself, and remorseless killers are still stalking the streets of Le’sant.

  He wondered if thing would ever change.

  “Animals!” Tana spat. “You should have killed them, Barent. Every last one of them.”

  “I wanted to,” he replied, sheathing his knife. “But by letting them go I hope to save the people of Le’sant.”

  “I understand that, but still…”

  Barent noted the anger on her face, but he knew Tana agreed with his reasoning.

  “We’d better get moving,” he told her. “Dura’s men still need our help.”

  They ran back to the waiting APC and used the recessed foot placements to climb up the side of it. And once they were both safely standing on the turret platform again, Corporal Ennis threw the vehicle into gear, sending them on their way.

  They spotted the remains of several more skirmishes as they moved through the city—evidenced by the bodies of dozens of dead Exiles, numerous horse carcasses, and the corpses of Collective troops left behind when the fighting shifted to other areas. The fact that the Collective forces weren’t gathering up their dead spoke to the confusion and chaos this war had brought to Le’sant. And as they skirted around a horse and rider lying dead in the road, Barent’s senses alerted him to the sound of some of that fighting—just up ahead.

  “We’re nearing the outskirts of the markets,” Ennis yelled from below.

  The battle abruptly came into view, and Barent saw a Collective unit stationed just around the corner from a small building, viciously slicing through the structure with plasma beams and conventional weapons fire. Unfortunately, for the coalition troops trapped inside it, the Collective had placed themselves brilliantly. They enjoyed an excellent firing position, but barely presented any target at all for retaliation.

  The Collective troops heard the APC approaching from behind them and turned to look back, but they just assumed it was another vehicle bringing reinforcements and returned to the fight. They paid for that assumption with their lives as Barent caught the unit completely by surprise, frying the soldiers with the plasma turret before they understood what was happening.

  When the shooting stopped, the coalition forces cautiously stepped out of the building. Barent noticed that they were mostly Olin, but there were a few Exiles too—as well as a single Warden. When they saw who’d saved them, the soldiers all shouted Barent’s name loudly, and then went off to rejoin the battle at another hotspot.

  “Should we follow them?” Corporal Ennis asked.

  “No,” Barent replied. “Hold here for a moment.”

  He opened up a channel and calle
d Sergeant Dura. “We’ve handled the situation at the markets, Sergeant. How’s it going on that end?”

  “Not good, sir. We’re in full retreat. I didn’t have to go looking for General Malves, he found me. He arrived a few minutes ago with a large contingent of Collective commandos, and has already taken out most of my forward line. I have reinforcements coming in from other parts of the city, but I think we’ll have to abandon the progress we’ve made into the Middle District and retreat back to the Common Ring. We’re just too damned scattered around, Sergeant Barent. And I’ve lost a lot of troops.”

  Barent knew the main battle was still too far away to see from their position but he gazed off in that direction anyway, trying to catch a glimpse of the violent struggle unfolding over the open comm channel. As he’d suspected, he couldn’t make out anything more than smoke, or the occasional explosion, but Barent did notice something else—something he’d spotted earlier.

  And it gave him an idea.

  He toggled the comm. “Sergeant Dura. It looks like the entire Outland to the south of your position is a solid wall of flame. Is that an accurate assessment?”

  “Yes, sir; it is. Some of the fighting spilled back into the Outland earlier, triggering a few fires. And since the downtrodden’s shacks were mainly built out of scrap-wood and fabric, it didn’t take much for whole place to go up—and fast. Most of the inhabitants escaped to the Common Ring when the fires first broke out. Most of them… But I don’t know how safe they’re going to be, Sergeant Barent, because we have a lot of fires in that part of the city now as well. And they seem to be spreading.”

  Barent thought about all of the innocent people caught up in the war against the Collective and grimaced.

  “Do just as you planned, Sergeant Dura. Take the forces you have left back into the Common Ring, and pull General Malves and his commandos right along with you. But first, call everyone in the coalition back, and have some of those reinforcements attack Malves’ flanks as soon as they arrive—so they can draw the other Collective units away and isolate him. Let Malves chase you all the way down to the flames, Sergeant. And once you reach the Outland—up to the very edge of the fires—disperse your army through the alleyways in the Common Ring and escape. Then you can meet up with the bulk of your reinforcements and close in on General Malves from behind, trapping him between your troops and the flames. The fire will make one less side you have to secure, Sergeant Dura. And it might leave you with a large enough force to move in and take Malves out.”

  “As much as I like the plan, sir, I don’t think I can collect enough coalition troops together to both isolate and trap General Malves.”

  “Send some Wardens out on horseback to make contact with the rogue Exiles. I think you’ll find them much more amenable to your orders now. And if not, they soon will be.”

  “Sir?” Dura remarked, confused by Barent’s assurances.

  “Just trust me on this, Sergeant Dura. You’ll get them back. And keep me informed of your progress, I have another mission in mind for my own team before I can join you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There was an audible click as the connection was severed, and then Barent yelled down inside the APC. “How far are we from Le’sant’s data hub, Corporal Ennis?”

  The Warden glanced at the multi-colored display in front of him before replying. “About ten minutes, sir…unless we run into trouble.”

  “Normally in situations like this I go looking for trouble, Corporal. But in this case, I need to get there quickly. So as fast as you can, please, and try to avoid any engagement with the enemy.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “What’s your plan?” Tana asked him.

  Barent leaned back against the turret and crossed his arms. “Ever since I woke up, everyone’s been telling me how influential my memory is, and how important my writings and speeches are. I intend to test that notion right now, Tana, by speaking directly to the people of the city. I’m going to use the datanet to rally the citizens of Le’sant to our side.”

  Tana frowned. Her lips parted to respond, but she seemed unable to find the right words, clearly struggling to explain the thoughts racing through her mind.

  Barent noticed her difficulty.

  “Can I take it from your expression that you’ve been exaggerating the value of my legacy?” he said.

  “No!” Tana exclaimed. “No. It’s not that. You have to speak to the people. That’s exactly what we wanted from you…what we need. But they’ve seen savage, fur-covered invaders fighting their own army now. And they probably believe that we’re the ones setting fire to the city; it’s an easy assumption to make. At this point, Barent, I think it’ll be difficult for you to convince the people that it’s all been done for their benefit. That we are somehow the good guys in all of this.”

  Barent gazed out at the immense destruction left behind by the fighting, watching as the glow from dozens of fires lit up the night sky. In some areas, the light from the infernos was so bright that it even eclipsed the illumination spilling out from the nearby buildings.

  He took a deep breath in through his nose and smelled the soot and ash polluting the air—tasted it in the back of his throat. And then Barent heard gunfire in the distance as the struggle for the city continued on, unabated. It was as if all of his senses had conspired to sober his enthusiasm.

  “You’re absolutely right,” Barent said, the resignation in his voice almost palpable. “I agree with everything you said. But if we do somehow win this war, Tana, it will be a useless victory without the backing of the people. We might, against all odds, be able to conquer them. But if they come to our side willingly, it will be an enduring peace.”

  “I know that,” Tana said softly. “And if anyone can reach them, Barent, it’s you. But you need to understand…to prepare yourself. Because no matter how much you want this, it may never happen. It’s easy for the poor to follow you because they have nothing to lose. But the wealthy in the central rings have no reason to trust you, and everything to lose if you’re lying to them. Revolutions are seldom kind to the rich.”

  “Then I’ll just have to convince them that I’m telling the truth,” Barent said. “And that this really is for the good of everyone.”

  He gave Tana a confident grin, but she knew Barent well enough now to see the depth of worry hidden behind it. Tana shared those concerns—and more—but one source of her apprehension faded away as they pulled up to the data hub, pleasantly surprised to find the building unguarded. The side of the APC swung open, and despite the apparent lack of danger, they all filed out with their weapons at the ready.

  The rest of the group stood guard as Tana easily picked the lock on the front door and pulled it open. Then she tossed her comm unit to one of the Olin, and the pair positioned themselves on either side of the door to stand watch. Barent, Tana, and Ennis, bolted straight inside, swinging their guns around the open atrium in every direction, looking for hidden Collective troops. But the building was clear. In fact, it looked like the entire hub was deserted.

  “Apparently,” Barent whispered, “they didn’t expect anyone to attack their communications center. Sloppy and short-sighted.”

  He jerked two fingers down sharply, pointing straight ahead, and the three of them moved up an open stairway to the second floor. The trio methodically crisscrossed the plant-filled antechamber, and the hallway just beyond it, examining each of the small signs above the doors until they located the broadcast center.

  Tana yanked the door open, and then ducked aside as Barent and Ennis swept into the room. But other than an impressive collection of equipment, the studio was just as empty as the rest of the building. The lighting system detected their presence and automatically flashed on, sending the blinking displays of the electronics fading into the background. And then the soft and peaceful hum of the machinery also vanished, as Corporal Ennis slid a heavy chair away from the main control panel and plopped himself down into it. He scanned the layout for a
moment and then looked up at Barent.

  “Seems simple enough, sir. There’s an active emergency channel telling everyone to stay inside their buildings. All I have to do is exchange a live broadcast for that, and we can reach the entire city.”

  “Then let’s do it,” Barent told him.

  On the other side of the room, Barent spotted a dais with cameras positioned all around it. He strode over to the platform with Tana at his side. Barent placed his pistols back into their respective holsters, and then Tana straightened his rig, pulling his combat jacket down tight as well. She licked her hand and used it to wipe away some black soot from Barent’s forehead, and he looked at her strangely.

  “Appearances, Sergeant Barent. You’re not a prison guard now, or even a soldier. You are the Great Betrayer. Remember that.”

  “Understood,” he replied.

  Barent gently grabbed Tana’s arm as she began to move out of camera range. “And Tana,” he said in a sincere voice, “thank you.”

  “We’re a team,” she replied, placing her hand over his. “Remember?” Then Tana smiled at him before stepping away.

  They watched Corporal Ennis go over the controls one more time, making doubly certain he knew what to do, and then he announced, “Ready.”

  Barent nodded and the feed went live, sending his image throughout the city. He knew the message would be broadcast to every stationary and hand-held device connected to the datanet, and be seen by the people implanted with datalinks as well.

  “People of Le’sant,” he began, his voice calm and authoritative. “My name is Sergeant Barent. But I assume that most of you know that already. Five hundred years ago, I began a war to free this city from oppression. And now, after lifetimes spent in cryo-suspension, I’ve returned to finish what I started. I know there have been rumors that I’m not real—just a clever fabrication created by the Wardens. But that is a lie. And it’s not the first one the Collective told you. They’ve been lying to you for centuries, deftly using my name and memory to prop up their illegitimate government. The Collective has betrayed you, twisting and tainting what your ancestors truly wanted for this colony into something unrecognizable. Corrupting what they…my friends, fought and died for. And I don’t care how long it’s been, or how many centuries have passed. Those deaths meant something. They certainly meant something to me. I refuse to let those sacrifices be in vain, and I intend to make things right.