Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  He moved towards the Portal, the smell getting stronger in his nostrils as he did.

  Smoke grenades, Kyra explained. She must have popped a bunch through the Portal before she went in. Makes sense.

  Makes me want to gag.

  Yeah. I hate smoke grenades.

  Worse than the kind that blow you to bits?

  Yeah. You never know what else is in ‘em.

  The clang of metal-on-metal caused them both to turn, looking back at the entrance. Another clang came from above them, and Tris trained his rifle on the ceiling. Is that her?

  What do you think I am, psychic?

  The sounds were coming from all around now, the pair of them spinning on the spot trying to pinpoint the source.

  And then two small tubes rolled to a stop by Tristan’s boot. He glanced down, wondering where the hell they’d come from — only to have it dawn on him just in time. Grenades!

  He threw himself away from the tubes at the same time they detonated — a small puff of deep-blue brilliance rather than a cloud of limb-shearing shrapnel. But as he toppled away, he caught sight of something altogether more alarming; Evie had appeared from behind the Portal, where she must have been standing the entire time.

  Shit! Tris thrust the message out as he connected with the floor. She’s here!

  I know! Kyra replied from somewhere behind him. Don’t breathe!

  What? He already taken a few rapid breaths from the shock and the fall. A cloud of bluish smoke was billowing up from the tubes, engulfing everything in sight.

  What is it? He scrabbled onto all fours, letting his rifle dangle. The light attached to its barrel was strobing through the clouds like a laser in a disco. Tris turned to the left, looking for a gap, then to the right — and just like that, he was lost.

  Kyra? He reached out for her, hoping she hadn’t moved too far. If he could use their positions to guess the direction of the Portal they could still make it…

  Not on one breath though.

  His lungs were already burning, his reflexes fighting him. He had no choice; it was breathe, or explode. Pulling his shirt up over his mouth he gulped down air. It had a dry, powdery taste, like chalk. His chest heaving, he pulled in lungful after lungful, trying to calm himself. He’d managed to get his rifle up again, and was playing the beam around himself in a circle. What little vision he had was swimming with multi-coloured points of light — either from trying to hold his breath, or from the consequences of not doing so. Kyra? I had to breathe…

  She’s here!

  And something metallic swished past inches from his face. He flinched back, noticing it wasn’t red hot — either Evie had switched weapons, or this was something else.

  Where is she?

  Don’t know. She keeps ducking out of the smoke then vanishing again. I’d say she was tiring us out, but why… There!

  Tris yelped and sprang back as the blade flashed past him again. Kyra! That’s me!

  Crouching, rifle at the ready, he edged in the direction the swords had come.

  Only to find Evie. She was waiting for him, poised to attack.

  With a yell he brought the rifle up, pumping shot after shot through the blue haze. Evie threw herself flat to avoid his blasts, then rolled to her feet. Her blades reached out, stretching and arcing to slice his rifle in two.

  I got her blaster! Kyra told him. Get behind her and—

  KYRA! Tris had frozen in place. It’s ME. You’re fighting ME!

  What? Tris, where are you?

  It’s the smoke. Did you breathe any? We’re hallucinating.

  You sure?

  Someone who looks like Evie just used your swords to cut my rifle in half!

  Shit! Then where is she?

  Tris turned away from the Evie in front of him, letting the smoke take her. There was another one out there, a real one, and he was betting she could see better than he could. Strange orbs roiled in the smoke now, casting great ghostly images all around him. He’d never tried LSD, but he’d heard it was like this.

  Just find the Portal, he told Kyra. That’s all that matters.

  Yeah. I— Then she shrieked, and he caught a flash of pain at the same time.

  Kyra! I’m coming! He heard the unmistakable ring of blade on blade and rushed towards it. The sound came again, closer and then further away again, as he blundered through the smoke with his useless weapon.

  But there was nothing. He’d missed them somewhere. Kyra was hurt again, he knew, but he felt anger from her too. The clash of blades came again, from behind him. He spun around, still brandishing half a rifle, and a storm of coloured lights swirled in to surround him. What the hell is this stuff?

  Tris! Watch out!

  And he felt a dark surge of hatred directly in front of him, moving fast.

  With no other options he flung his rifle stock hard at the approaching figure, watching in horror as one glowing blade swept up to bat it away.

  He knew Kyra was seeing it all through his eyes when her desperation washed over him. Run Tris, RUN!

  He ran. Shamelessly. Streamers of fog swirled around him, flaring bright wherever he looked. Kyra was coming to help, but he didn’t want that. He was meant to be saving her; the princess in the tower, the damsel in distress. Only the knight in armour was a bully, and her sword burned like the sun.

  A shriek came from behind him. He turned to look while running, but his foot caught something and he sprawled flat on the deck. In blind panic he scrabbled against the smooth metal, getting to his hands and knees and scuttling on before daring to stand—

  Only to run full-tilt into a wall.

  He bounced off, cursing, then turned to face his pursuer.

  Nothing.

  No-one.

  Had she even been there at all?

  Was it a trick?

  Was he just dreaming this?

  He wanted to slide down the wall, to curl up at its base and put his thumb in his mouth. This wasn’t a good place to be. Not a good place…

  The smoke was choking him. Drowning him. He was on fire.

  He wanted out.

  Needed to get out.

  The door…

  Putting one hand against the wall, he shuffled along it. An old memory of fire drills had surfaced and he remembered doing this, eyes squeezed shut, in a long line of other children. Feeling our way out.

  Walls lead to doors, if you follow them for long enough.

  He picked up speed, keeping his eyes down, trying to ignore the visions the fog was throwing at him. But then something solid came hurtling out of it, something bright and sharp-edged, with a wave of heat accompanying it.

  The blade buried itself in the wall in front of him, its owner materialising on the other end of it.

  “Where are you going, little boy?” Evie mocked. “Are you lost without your mummy?”

  She swung a fist and Tris felt his arm float up to meet it, turning the blow aside as if by magic.

  She grunted and kicked out, but Tris stepped aside from it and chopped the side of his hand towards her neck. She dodged effortlessly, but stepped back out of reach. The smoke and the darkness threatened to take her.

  “You’re pathetic,” she hissed, and this time her hand came from nowhere, slamming into the side of his face. “Feeble.” Another blow; this one made his head bounce off the wall he’d been following. His limbs seemed to have forgotten how to move at normal speed.

  “Useless.” This one hit in front, making his nose explode in a burst of pain. Blood dripped from his mouth as he reeled back, still trying to rally his body to help him.

  “You were never worthy of my sister. The thought of you together… ugh!”

  The words buzzed past Tris like angry insects, while his injures stung in time to his pulse.

  “Eleanor was mine, and you took her from me!”

  His mind, scrabbling around for anything to hold onto, caught a sudden edge. A familiar image: glinting green eyes, in a pale face lightly dusted with freckles. A tangle
of crimson curls framing a smile so mischievous….

  The image came from the woman in front of him.

  It was an image of something she thought she owned.

  But she was wrong.

  MINE! he yelled, thrusting the thought at her with all his strength.

  The woman screamed, staggering back with her hands clamped to her head. The sound nearly deafened him. He managed to haul his hand up, anticipating retaliation — but got nothing. He glanced around groggily, but she was gone; the world was in total darkness. His heart was pounding, pumping the blood which ran warm down his chin and pattered to the deck. Need to get out. With nothing else to see he let his head dangle, and slapping one hand against the wall he shuffled on.

  Time passed without any reference. The wall was smooth and cold beneath his hand, the deck smooth and invisible beneath his feet.

  Then he stumbled into something warm, and knew instantly it was Kyra.

  Tris…

  Her head was down and she was hunched over, letting the wall take her weight as she slid along it. He ran his hands over her back and felt sticky patches.

  I’m here, Kyra.

  The door…? Even her mind felt exhausted. She was fading fast.

  A new wave of purpose rose unbidden, gripping Tris in a fist of iron. It’s near, he promised, feeling for her hand. He took point, moving slowly, pulling her along behind him. She came without question, giving herself over to him. It was so unlike Kyra that a fresh sense of urgency blossomed, bringing a wave of clarity to his brain. Drugged?

  Drugged… Kyra agreed weakly.

  Suddenly, his groping fingers closed on nothing. We’re here! Putting his spare arm straight out ahead of him, he pulled her through the opening. The smoke hadn’t made it this far, he noticed; the faint light from the wall markings leapt out at him after so long in total darkness. This way.

  Still leading Kyra by the hand, he set off down the corridor. He didn’t have a destination in mind — just anywhere that wasn’t here. But his legs felt like rubber, obeying him sluggishly. He urged Kyra on, could feel her urging herself on, but she was also wrapped in a layer of lethargy so deep it penetrated the soul. Her pain gnawed at him, too, and he knew that fighting the desire to succumb to it was taking every scrap of energy she had left.

  We’ll never make it like this!

  Leave me, Kyra sighed back. Faster… without me…

  No fucking way! You’re coming with me. She’s gonna kill me anyway!

  Huh. Can’t… choose your… in-laws.

  Tris would have laughed if he’d had the strength. Instead he pressed on, limping through the gloom with Kyra clutching his shoulder.

  Then from behind them came a clatter.

  He turned to look, but the violent motion was too much for his feet. He stumbled, tripping over himself, and then fell flat on the floor. Kyra went down too, collapsing on his legs.

  Tris twisted to look back and saw a nightmarish figure advancing. Evie’s eyes shone with malice in the glare of her twin blades going nova.

  Reaching back for Kyra, Tris focussed all his might, dragging her bodily up beside him. GO! He urged her. The strength to stand was no longer in him; on elbows and knees, he crawled. Kyra fared even worse; digging her bloody fingertips into the deck plates, she barely managed to raise her head.

  Ella! Kreon! he called out silently, but all his saviours were gone.

  Evie stalked towards them, taking her time, her face a mask of sadistic glee.

  Ah, fuck this. Pushing himself back to Kyra, Tris flopped over onto his side. He pulled her body against his, cradling it protectively — for all the good it would do.

  Ella was right. They always get you in the end.

  Evie paused a few feet away and stuck a thoughtful pose, wagging a finger. “How quaint! So which first?” She levelled the finger at Kyra. “Business?” The finger swung to point at Tris. “Or pleasure?”

  Tris had no words left so he spat, a great gobbet of blood that speckled her boots.

  Evie didn’t seem to notice. “I know they say not to, but I was always fond of mixing the two.”

  And raising those terrible blades, she stepped forward.

  Tris stared up at her determined not to flinch.

  And his world erupted in searing white light.

  15

  When Tris came to his senses, the right side of his face burned with pain.

  He was flat on his back, and the world was even darker than he remembered it.

  Because his eyes were closed, he realised.

  He tried to open them, only to meet with resistance — a sticky crust had set across his eyelashes, welding them together. A moan of dismay escaped him at the disgusting discovery.

  “Tristan?” A woman’s voice, but not a kind one. “Wake up!” And his face burned again with the sharp impact of a hand.

  She’s slapping me?

  “Ugh!” No!” he shouted. “I’m awake!” He tried his eyes again, and with a sickening sensation they tore open. Light flooded in, and he slammed them shut again — but his tormentor had noticed.

  “Tristan?” A shadow fell across his face, shielding him from the light. He cracked an eyelid. At first all was a blur, but then the face hanging above him drifted slowly into focus.

  “Sera?”

  “Yes. I’m back. Just in time, it seems.”

  That sent an electric shock down his spine. “Kyra?” he rasped, turning his head. He wasn’t on the floor anymore; he’d been moved to a couch somewhere. Kyra was no longer next to him. “Where is she?”

  “She’s alive. Àurea is taking her to the medical wing.”

  “When did you…? How?”

  Sera sat back, letting the full light flood his face. He flinched — but it was only light. Normal, blessed, internal light.

  The power is back on.

  He could have cried with relief. But he’d always been more of a bottler; right in front of Sera wasn’t the best place to start letting his emotions out.

  “We arrived back to find the Folly drifting dead in space. It took a lot of effort to find her with that sensor-stealth coating. ALI was able to extrapolate from her last position, and perform a remote reboot when we found her.”

  Tris closed his eyes again, letting a deep, shuddering breath fill his lungs. “Evie?”

  “Ms Fitzgerald was caught trespassing. Askarra trapped her in a security forcefield as she tried to flee.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Still there. I haven’t got time to deal with petty feuds.”

  Tris forced himself to sit up, feeling aches and pains up and down his body. “I need to see Kyra.”

  He half expected Sera to push him back down and insist he rest, but clearly she was made of sterner stuff. She stood, and taking his hands, pulled him up after her. He got his legs under himself just in time. They still felt rubbery with the aftereffect of the drug, but they were definitely stronger than before.

  “Kyra was unconscious when we found you. Her injuries are severe, which is why I need—”

  Tris locked eyes with Sera. “I need to see her!”

  “No!” There was ice in her tone. “You need to stop whimpering and do what I say. I don’t know how Kreon runs this team, but my soldiers take orders.”

  Tris forced himself to stand straighter, and for once he didn’t reply.

  Sera appraised him. “Better. Now, how did the assassin get on board?”

  “She followed us through the Portal from Earth,” Tris said, just stopping himself from adding ‘ma’am’ to the end. Sera didn’t seem in the mood for sass. “She must have been watching the house in Bristol in case we came back to it.”

  Sera nodded thoughtfully. “Then it’s possible the safety of the people there has been compromised. I need you to return there immediately and bring my granddaughter back here. The one called Lukas, too. But first I need your help with another problem.”

  Tris followed, slightly bewildered, as Sera led him out of the cre
w lounge. He must not have been out for long; he recognised the room as being only a short distance from the docking bay with the Portal.

  Which means that Evie is around here somewhere, too…

  His skin prickled at the thought. Hopefully Askarra’s forcefields were a bit stronger than her doors.

  Sera led him into an elevator, which was thankfully working again. Tris hadn’t realised until then just how much he took for granted on the battle station — everything from lights and lifts to the safety and security of having an all-powerful AI program monitoring his every movement.

  Even if it was downright unsettling when his girlfriend came to visit.

  Sera said little in the lift — merely remarked that she’d told Àurea to meet them on the bridge.

  When those doors swished open on the familiar scene, the command chair standing proud before the vast viewscreen and its bank of consoles, Tris finally felt the tension start to drain from his shoulders.

  We made it.

  Immediately he thought of Kyra, and hoped to God she was okay, too.

  Àurea would be the person to ask — she was waiting for them, as promised.

  “How is she?” Sera demanded as they entered.

  Àurea’s face was a study in trauma. Anger and despair warred across her features, which were dirt-stained and speckled with blood. “She’ll live, I think. But I need my doctor to know for sure. The medical talos is starting an assessment, but I’d trust Lukas over that thing any day.”

  Sera waved a hand at Tris, as though inviting him to comment. “Uh, Lukas is a doctor? The big guy we left on Earth?”

  Àurea nodded. “Yes. When you fetch my daughter, bring him along as well. Kyra’s chances will improve significantly with him on board.”

  Tris felt the last vestiges of fog beginning to clear from his head. He was getting used to rapid turnarounds. “Okay. I’ll go straight away.”

  “One thing first,” Sera reminded him. “We need you to negotiate on our behalf with a recalcitrant AI.”

  “With ALI? What’s she done now?”

  “No, not ALI.” Sera sounded weary. “I have brokered a deal with ALI. However, in order to keep our end of the bargain, I am required to set a new heading for the Folly. And your mother won’t let me do it.”