Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  Àurea readjusted Miren’s weight and reached out for the door release.

  Her mother nodded — and pressed her fingers together.

  The blast was instantaneous. The floor shook, the furniture quivered, and a few of Gerian’s choice display pieces fell off the walls.

  Àurea hauled the door open and her mother leapt through, firing rapidly. Àurea followed, turning towards the docking bay as a second shock rocked the building. The two guards ahead of her had been unprepared for this; both had been thrown from their feet, their weapons bouncing uselessly off the floor. She knew her mother was keeping pace when a pair of laser bolts burned out from beside her, striking both guards before they could recover their footing. The men fell, clutching at smouldering holes in their chest armour, as Àurea sprinted towards them.

  If that’s it… if there are no more…

  For once, it seemed the old Gods were with them. Àurea pounded past the security post and out into the docking bay, where their ostentatious silver shuttle sat unmolested.

  She had to manoeuvre Miren into a position for her to operate the door controls, then she was up the ramp before it had finished extending. She made straight for the cockpit, careful not to bounce Miren’s head off any hard surfaces, and deposited the girl in the co-pilot’s chair. Pre-flight had been done as soon as they landed; the shuttle was ready to go by the time she’d strapped them both in.

  Sera came in behind her, bracing herself against the seats rather than taking one herself. “Can she fly?”

  Miren responded. Her fingers were already on the controls, moving steadily. “It’s done,” she said. “Control is all yours. Now I… I think I need a nap.”

  Àurea threw her a worried look, but didn’t have time for anything more. She throttled the engines up to full power and lifted off, spinning the ship to point out. The docking bay doors were still open, with only the magnetic shield to pass through; another stroke of luck, as the shuttle had no weapons at all.

  She threw the control stem forward and blasted out at top speed.

  The transition back into open air was so welcome she could have shrieked. But with Miren dying in the chair next to her and security forces sure to pursue, she was a long way off celebrating.

  To say nothing of my father…

  She closed her eyes for a second, driving those thoughts back beneath the surface.

  Right now, she needed to focus.

  Sera was easing Miren’s unconscious form out of the co-pilot’s seat as Àurea flipped the sensors to their maximum range. Sure enough, there were already ships in the air — and the kind of military-spec craft the Church employed to protect its hierarchy would overhaul their shuttle in less time than it took to worry about.

  “Company,” she said, not bothering to elaborate.

  Her mother dropped into the chair beside her and took over the sensor displays. “Patrol craft, medium sized,” she reported. “Three coming so far. Intercept in less than a minute.”

  “What?” Àurea blanched. “Do we even have engines in this thing? We should just get out and walk.”

  Sera ignored the outburst. “Co-ordinates for Wayfinder’s location are in the nav,” she said, her voice glacially smooth under pressure. It was one of the qualities Àurea had always admired in the woman; tried to emulate even, as a young apprentice striving toward her Investment. Only now did it occur to her that perhaps her dear mother was a little bit unhinged.

  The location pinged up on Àurea’s tactical display as a point of light joined to them by a line of green dashes. She frowned at the image. She didn’t need the computer to do the calculation. “No weapons… no chance at all of us making the entire distance.”

  An alarm trilled beside her and she reached out to tap her display. “Weapons lock? Already! What kind of range do they—”

  And the ship shook in answer to her question.

  “Dive,” Sera instructed. “We need more cover. Up here they can pick us off without trying.”

  Àurea wasn’t sure going back towards the planet’s surface would prevent that, but it was the least obvious course of action. She pushed the yokes forward, pitching the shuttle steeply down as another volley of long-range fire strobed past above them. The move would throw off their enemies’ targeting for a handful of seconds, but not longer.

  Cover… there has to be something down there…

  The cityscape below came screaming up at them. The spires of tall buildings rose here and there, all of them bristling with sensor masts. Were they armed? If so, this would prove a spectacularly unsuccessful tactic.

  The ship rocked again, another blast from behind clipping their starboard side. A warning icon flickered to life on Àurea’s display; the main engine on that side clearly wasn’t robust enough for combat operations. It was already starting to shut down.

  She cursed under her breath. “What did they build this thing from, foil?”

  “Pleasure craft.” Sera’s tone oozed contempt. “Things built for pleasure rarely last.” Her eyes flicked to where Miren’s blood stained the console.

  Àurea squelched any further commentary on her mother’s mental state. They’d all be dead soon if she couldn’t keep the patrol ships from frying them.

  She swung around the nearest tower close enough to make its masts tremble. Any security that’s not already after us will be soon, she noted. Keeping the throttles wide open she wove between the spires, hopefully dissuading their pursuers from firing. But the alert on the starboard engine was flashing brighter as the thrust output decreased. She had to throttle back just to keep flying straight, and in a few moments she’d have to do so again. The pot-shots from behind had ceased, but it was a safe bet the security force was flanking them. Pretty soon they’d be everywhere.

  Her mother proved the truth of that. “Three marks ahead, inbound at high velocity.”

  Àurea gritted her teeth. “Ships or missiles?” Not that it matters much.

  “Two small gunships and a large freighter bringing up the rear.”

  “Should I try to land?” These towers have roof-docks. We could fight our way inside and—”

  She was looking right at her tac display when one of the ships in front of them exploded.

  “Wha—?”

  At the same time another pair of patrol ships veered in from above to open fire on the approaching freighter.

  “Is that—?”

  And in perfect unison, every comm unit in the cockpit crackled to life. “My apologies for acting without permission,” ALI’s melodic speech cut in. “I calculated the odds of success diminishing exponentially the longer I waited.”

  ALI destroyed the second ship in front of her without ceremony and turned Wayfinder’s powerful pulse cannons on the ones firing on her. “If you transmit the command codes I will handle the docking procedure.”

  Àurea glanced behind herself and winced. “I’m afraid our command codes are bleeding to death.”

  “I will initiate manual docking procedures in bay four.”

  The oncoming freighter turned abruptly, rotating about its axis to present its port side to them. The manoeuvre alone would have stressed the ship beyond its design tolerance. At that speed, inside the atmosphere, any humans aboard would have been picking up their eyeballs.

  Àurea devoted herself to her instruments, keeping their flight path as stable as possible. If ALI could hold off their pursuers for a few more seconds…

  The bright square of Wayfinder’s docking bay grew to fill the canopy, and Àurea threw power to the retros. This finally proved too much for the shuttle; it barely made it over the threshold, skidding across the docking bay, shedding components the whole way. They bounced three times, each accompanied by the sound of something tearing loose, and came to rest tilted to one side, facing back in the direction they’d come. The docking bays doors were closing already, and the pit of her stomach told her ALI was still pushing Wayfinder’s structural integrity to the limit. Hopefully she was now doing it to get
them out of here.

  “Were you successful in retrieving Loader?” the computer chirped up.

  “We came close,” Àurea admitted, sagging against her restraints. The welter of emotions she’d been suppressing began to bubble up out of control.

  “That is not acceptable,” ALI chimed. “We must re-attempt—”

  “We have a lead on his location,” Sera interjected.

  “Explain.”

  “I planted a tracking device.” Àurea heard the weariness in her mother’s tone, and knew that she too was feeling the emotional upheaval of their mission.

  “Where?” ALI insisted.

  “On my husband.”

  The AI seemed to consider this for a moment. “Is Loader contained within the structure you escaped from?”

  “Gerian’s house? No. He’s not even on Obsidia.”

  “Very well.” The docking bay shuddered, causing something else to fall off the shuttle and hit the deck with a clang.

  “Are we still under attack?” Àurea asked, fumbling for her harness release.

  “Negative,” ALI responded cheerfully. “I have fired the railguns at Gerian’s residence. Its destruction should force the reallocation of resources currently pursuing us. Now if you would be kind enough to provide me with the signature of your tracking device, I will set a course for its location at best possible speed.”

  Àurea stared at her mother, struggling with a new emotion surging up inside her.

  Hope.

  “We can go back for him?”

  “We can,” Sera said, reaching out to take her hand. “And this time, we won’t be alone.”

  14

  Tris stared back at Evelyn Fitzgerald, feeling her hatred of him radiating out like the heat from her blades.

  The light from his homemade torch flickered and writhed, giving a hellish tinge to her angular features. With nothing more potent than a lump of metal in his hands, still he stood his ground. Running was out of the question; the assassin would cut him down before he got ten paces.

  Only Kyra was keeping her at bay. The firelight picked out Evie’s crimson curls and reflected in flashes from Kyra’s weaving blades. Set against each other like this, with equal visibility, Tris’ money would have been on Kyra any day. But the assassin had worked hard to attain an advantage, and she wasn’t likely to make any foolish mistakes. Kyra was badly injured, he knew; he was only grateful that Evie, her mind thoroughly closed to the Gift, could not tell how badly.

  It was a standoff.

  If I can get into the armoury… he started.

  No, Kyra ordered. Let her make the first move.

  And after giving Tris a look of pure venom, she did. One minute Evie was there, her face a mask of rage; then she took two steps back and seemed to vanish into the shadows.

  Tris squinted, struggling to make out anything further than a few metres away. Either something moved at the edge of his vision, or it didn’t — the treacherous light from the torch made it impossible to tell. Great. She can turn invisible now?

  Not invisible, but some form of distortion tech. Did you see where she went?

  I think there’s another hole in the wall back there. She might have slipped through it.

  Do you know where it leads?

  Tris took a hand off his weapon and wiped the palm-sweat on his pants. Nope. I never saw a schematic.

  Me neither. I’ve got a feeling Evie has, though.

  Damnit? So where to?

  She’ll find us anywhere we go. We need a place that gives us the advantage.

  Earth? Tris hazarded. If we can reach the Portal, I can get us back to Bristol. At least the lights will turn on.

  He felt Kyra’s hesitation. Taking trouble to Earth was the single biggest taboo of Lantian society. But if what he’d heard was true then she wasn’t really one of them anyway. And not getting murdered outweighed any other rule in his book.

  Okay. We make for the Portal room. Keep your eyes peeled!

  Tris reclaimed his torch and they moved off. He didn’t think his Survivor-inspired light source would last much longer, and he hated using stairwells at the best of times. In the dark, with a trained killer stalking him…

  Shall we just leg it?

  NO! She wants us to panic, Tris. It’s the only way she can beat us. So stay sharp!

  As they passed the armoury he ducked inside and swapped his ruined rifle for a fresh one. Kyra picked up the pulse rifle she’d dropped, and he suddenly felt like they had a fighting chance. They’d made it this far, despite Evie’s best efforts. If they could reach Earth, she’d be forced to fight them in the open. She didn’t seem to have any ranged weapons with her… Hell, he could always pass it off as street theatre.

  They made it two levels down before she struck.

  The stairs they were on suddenly collapsed, whatever was supporting them cut from above.

  Tris was already pumped full of adrenaline; at the first lurch of the stairs, instinct took over. He grabbed Kyra and leapt, hitting the landing below them hard enough to see stars. His flaming torch wasn’t so lucky, careening over the edge and plummeting to the floor below in a tangle of wreckage. He scrambled onto his back and got his rifle pointing back up the stairwell, but there was nothing to see — just the red outline of cut metalwork, fading as it cooled.

  She’d been right above them, but hadn’t attacked them in person. Did she fear Kyra’s swords?

  Tris snorted. Sure as hell it wasn’t him she was afraid of.

  Kyra had already opened the door to this level. Obviously their minds were in accord; no more bloody stairwells!

  It did raise the question of how they were going to reach the docking bay with the Portal in though.

  Getting to his feet, Tris followed Kyra out into a ring-corridor almost identical to the last — only significantly darker without his torch. Kyra did something to the powerpack on her pulse rifle and a lamp on the front of it flicked on, sending a more powerful spotlight beam stabbing into the shadows.

  She glanced back at him, so he gave her a shaky thumbs-up.

  Glad you’re still with me, kid.

  How are you feeling? he asked her.

  Fried.

  He wasn’t sure, but she might have been making a joke.

  Please tell me you’re not looking for another stairwell?

  No. She’d paused a short distance along the same corridor. Her light played back and forth across a set of double doors… the elevator? Still got that knife?

  He realised what she was planning and was quietly appalled at it. Nevertheless, he went to work with the combat knife, prying open the lift shaft doors.

  You really think that climbing down here will be safer than the stairs?

  There’s nothing in here she can drop on us.

  Tris looked up the shaft, seeing nothing but blackness. Apart from an elevator.

  Might want to get a move on, then.

  She reached across to the rungs built into the wall of the lift shaft and began climbing down.

  Tris waited until her dishevelled rainbow was below floor-level, casting a last look up and down the corridor, before following her.

  The climb was less taxing than he expected. Every few seconds he caught a flash of pain from Kyra, leaking out beyond her ability to hide it. That was a worry, but like everything right now it was out of his control. All he could do was help her get to the Portal, and hope to God they could think of a way to fight Evie back on Earth.

  Because if not, they were both going to die.

  They reached the right level without incident. Tris felt his breathing come easier once they were safely out of the lift shaft. He’d seen too many movies where bad things happened during stunts like that.

  Kyra panned her rifle-light around, revealing an unremarkable section of corridor almost identical to the one they’d just left. This level seemed colder though — or was that something to do with the lack of functioning life-support? Flashbacks to Gerian’s fighter, dead in space, sent a
shiver down his spine. There was also a faint tang on the air; the Folly normally had a slight chemical aroma he always equated with ’new car’ smell. But this was different. It was… smoke?

  Smoke, Kyra confirmed. Evie probably shorted out a bunch of stuff when she first got here.

  That woman is single-handedly wrecking this place!

  The Priesthood normally prefers more subtlety, but I get the feeling this is personal. She gave him a lopsided grin, but he could tell it cost her.

  Hang in there, he told her. We can get help at the base.

  Ugh! That frigging babysitter fawning all over me? That’s the last thing I need.

  If that’s the worst thing we have to worry about, I’ll snog him myself.

  Tris led the way now, sensitive to Kyra’s worsening condition. He’d been to this part of the Folly dozens of times, so he was sure they were in the right place. Sure enough, when they reached the doors to the docking bay that housed the Portal, the doors had been carved off with what looked like a plasma torch.

  Definitely Evie’s work, he commented, playing his light over the melted metal.

  Let’s hope she’s not inside already.

  If she is, we’ll blast her. It’s a big open space, nothing to hide behind except the Portal.

  Good point — Kyra paused to give him a stern look. Don’t shoot the Portal. It’s a long walk to Earth.

  Taking that on board, he pulled his rifle tight into his shoulder and advanced into the docking bay. The smell of smoke was stronger in here, with wisps of it curling through the beam of his barrel-mounted lamp. It made the space feel smaller somehow, more claustrophobic. He kept the light moving, covering the entire room one section at a time. He was right — there weren’t many places to hide.

  He felt Kyra behind him, doing the same, so he turned his attention to the Portal.

  It had turned itself off at some point, returning to the ominous mirror-looking object he’d first seen. He had no idea how vulnerable it was to blaster-fire, but hopefully Evie wouldn’t want it damaged either. Not unless she had another way off the Folly planned.