Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  Tris seethed inwardly, until they finally made it back up to ground level and out of the side door. “Okay, now can we get some speed up? We ran all the way over here, you know.”

  “Why?” The big man seemed honestly confused. “Trying to get some cardio in?”

  “No!” Tris practically shrieked. “Sera and Àurea are waiting for us back on the Folly. They’ve got an urgent mission.”

  “Oh, an urgent mission, is it?” He gave Tris a long-suffering look. “There’s never any other kind when you’re running a rebellion.” He bent down to talk to Ana. “Hey little soldier. You ready for a ride?”

  “Sure thing Lukas!”

  So he swept the child up onto his shoulders, where she sat like a queen on her throne. “Let’s go then.”

  And he set off at a jog. Tris caught up to him, but the big man was accelerating. Within seconds, Tris was sprinting to keep pace with him. Lukas ran smoothly and effortlessly, arms and legs pumping like pistons. A few minutes in Tris was panting, and already regretting being so pushy.

  He glanced back to see Ella bringing up the rear. She moved with fluid grace, and didn’t even seem to be breathing hard. She flashed him a grin and he put his eyes back front, lest he trip over a curb and make a complete ass of himself.

  Damn that man! he thought, swiping at the sweat pouring down his forehead. How am I meant to look strong and tough next to that?

  By the time they reached his house, Tris was knackered. His breath was ragged in his chest and his shirt clung to him, soaked. Ella had managed to maintain her poise, though there was a definite glow about her. Whereas Lukas lifted the eight-year-old down off his shoulders like she weighed nothing, and stood waiting patiently for Tris to open the front door.

  He did so, digging through his backpack for the keys. Leaving this bag with Mark had very nearly been the end of him — amongst other things, it contained the glaive he’d inherited from his dad. Not having the impossibly-sharp staff weapon during Evie’s attack could well have killed both himself and Kyra — to say nothing of Mark finding the thing and losing an arm whilst trying to open a beer with it.

  Of all of them, only Ella had never been through a Portal before. Tris took a few seconds to explain the experience, in as many words as he could come up with. She didn’t seem particularly concerned by his description, but she’d probably seen weirder things in her life than he could imagine. It still blew his mind that she was attracted to him. If it truly was love — and his mother, at least, was convinced of it — then he was the luckiest loser on the planet.

  On the far side, Àurea was waiting for them.

  Ana saw her and ran straight for her, throwing herself into her mother’s arms with a squeal of delight. Lukas followed more casually, offering her a mocking salute.

  Ella came through shivering, arms wrapped around herself, looking like she was about to vomit. “You weren’t wrong,” she said, when Tris tried to comfort her.

  “The cold?”

  “The… evil. Whatever that was in there, she wants us all to die horribly.”

  “She?”

  Ella smiled at him as he rubbed her arms. “For that much spite, only a woman fits the bill.”

  Àurea kept her arms wrapped around Ana, wearing the girl like a front-pack as she led them out of the docking bay.

  Tris felt supremely awkward as they approached the hole carved in the entrance; he hadn’t actually mentioned to Ella that her sister was trapped in a corridor, and that they’d be walking right past her. But he needn’t have worried; the forcefield was off, the corridor battle-scarred but empty. “Where is she?” he asked Àurea, feeling a bizarre flash of concern for the woman who’d come so close to killing him.

  “We got her down to the holding cells,” Àurea explained, relieving his fears.

  Whew! Imprisoning her sister is one thing — imagine if I had to tell Ella we’d executed her!

  “How the hell did you manage that?” he asked. “Dealing with that woman is like handling a Sharknado!”

  Àurea moved Ana to her hip without missing a stride. “She co-operated. When my mother is fully armed, there aren’t many people in the galaxy dumb enough to mess with her!”

  They joined Sera on the Bridge without delay, and Tris gave the order to set sail. The giant ship’s transition to grav-drive was marked only by the barest of tremors, and the viewscreens full of stars all faded to black. With that done, Ella excused herself to go and have a private word with her sister. Tris watched her go fondly, and hoped Evie wouldn’t lay the vitriol on too thick.

  “Okay,” said Lukas, not seeming remotely intimidated by being in the immense battle station’s control centre. “Where do you want me?”

  It was a short trip to the medical wing, and Tris had been there often enough to do it with his eyes closed. He was in the lead when they came into the ward, and the first thing he saw froze the breath inside his body.

  In the first room, a tarp was pulled up over the unmistakable form of a dead woman. Tris gasped, his eyes going wide, his legs weak. Àurea caught him just before he collapsed to the deck.

  “No!” she said, shaking him gently. “That’s not her!”

  “W— wha?” Tris pulled himself back upright. “Not Kyra?”

  “No,” Àurea said. “That’s Miren. She was our contact on the mission — one of Gerian’s concubines.” Her voice softened as she approached the bed, flapping back the plastic sheet to reveal the face of an attractive blonde woman in her late twenties. “She was one of his favourites, she told me, but he hadn’t called for her in months. In their world, that meant he’d grown tired of her — or she’d gotten too old. But when someone like Gerian tires of his playthings, he doesn’t leave them lying around for others to use. She knew her next job would have been the end of her. She could have tried to get out, to escape — but instead she chose to help us.” She sighed, and flapped the plastic back over the woman’s face. “Another innocent casualty of this repulsive faith.”

  Much to Tristan’s relief Kyra lay in the next room, still wearing the new jeans she’d bought on Earth. Her hair was a matted tangle of rainbow and blood; her injuries had been closed, but the medical talos had a number of alert icons that needed attention.

  From the moment he walked in the door, Lukas’ attitude changed. He became the soul of quiet efficiency, flipping through the talos’ menus with one hand while he pressed the corresponding parts of Kyra with the other. He flipped cupboards open, analysing their contents with a glance before moving on, and gave Kyra a complete check over from head to toes and back up again in the process.

  At one point Tris thought he was humming, but he realised the big man was talking rapidly to himself, reciting diagnoses and vital statistics. After figuring that out Tris stayed well clear, wanting to give the doctor space to work. His concern for Kyra deepened every time Lukas frowned, but the big man’s calm was all-encompassing.

  Tris actually startled when he finally spoke aloud. Sera and Àurea had gone by that point, returning to whatever preparations they were making for the upcoming mission. Tris was alone, loitering in a corner, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

  “Okay. We need these off,” he said, handing Tris a pair of shears.

  “Sorry?”

  Lukas waved at Kyra’s jeans. “Cut them off. I’ve got to re-open every one of her wounds. Whatever that weapon did to her, it’s still doing it — and this damn talos has closed them all up regardless!”

  Tris took the shears reluctantly. “Wow, she’s going to be pissed. She really liked those jeans.”

  “She probably won’t need them if she loses her legs,” Lukas mused.

  Tris went straight to work. He managed to save her boots, which he laid aside to cheer her up with afterwards. Lukas had been making adjustments to the medical talos, and as he moved in to start work, Tris retreated to the background again. He hated hospitals — hated anything to do with medical stuff, really. Better get used to it, he told himself. If I become a fully
-fledged Warden, I can’t imagine there’ll suddenly be less fighting.

  Lukas was intent on his work, so Tris found a chair outside Kyra’s room and dragged it in. The big man looked up, and nodded at him. “Good plan. Looks like we’ll be here a while. How long have we got, anyway? You said something about being in a rush?”

  “Oh, that was just while we got here. Our time to destination from when we set off is seventeen hours.”

  “Ah!” Lukas brightened. “It won’t take that long. We should have time for drinks and a nap.”

  Lukas wasn’t joking, it turned out. After digging through Kyra’s myriad injuries for close to eight hours, he pronounced himself satisfied, and instructed the talos to finish closing her up. Tris had been dozing by that point, with his head against a piece of medical machinery. He declined Lukas’ offer of a drink, though he did point out the way to the nearest mess hall, which would be stocked with enough bits and pieces to keep him happy.

  Then, yawning a goodbye, he left Kyra to sleep and Lukas to go in search of booze, and headed to his quarters for a lie down.

  The doors responded to him, swishing open on chaos. He slapped his forehead. Bugger! He’d completely forgotten, but in the first few minutes after the power went out he’d rifled through every nook and cupboard he could find by touch, looking for anything he could use to get him out of the room. His sheets were in a pile on the floor; the chair he’d eventually used to reach the ventilation system still balanced precariously on his bed. He really didn’t feel like cleaning it all up right now, so he removed the chair and lay down on the bed, shoes and all.

  His bag he kept next to him. Funny — after all those years of sleeping with his Dad’s knife under his pillow, the one time he actually needed it, it was literally on the other side of the galaxy.

  He slid the weapon from the backpack, admiring its unblemished elegance. I am never letting this thing out of my reach again.

  There were a few other items in the bag, but nothing of note — or so he thought. Then his fingers closed around a wadded-up napkin, and he remembered in a flash. The memory engram! He pulled the tiny chip out and studied it, holding it up to catch the overhead light.

  “Hey, Mum?” he said, as a thought occurred to him.

  “Yes, Tristan?” The hologram of Askarra materialised in the centre of the room, facing him. A slender young woman with copper skin and a jet black ponytail, she closely resembled the only photograph he’d ever seen of his mother.

  His own memory was kind of hazy — he’d been four when they’d lost her — and there was a good chance most of what he thought he recalled was actually based on that same photo.

  “Hi Mum!” he said. Dealing with her face-to-face felt so much more personal, so much more real. “I was wondering about this memory engram. It’s Dad’s as far as I can tell, and he probably made it not long before he left me all that money in the bank.”

  “Once we access the device, I will be able to tell you the precise date of its creation,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I was wondering… how hard is it to install this thing? You know, bring him up like you are now? It’d be a full-on family reunion!”

  The hologram’s normally inexpressive face turned sad. “If you request me to do this, I shall. But you should know that the Folly only has the processing power to sustain one memory engram at a time.”

  “Oh. So I’d have to turn you off for a bit if I wanted to talk to Dad?”

  “That is not how it works, unfortunately,” she said. Her voice had lost the warm tone it usually carried in private conversations like these; he recognised it as a warning sign. “The human brain is impossible to adequately replicate in a computer. The method it uses to handle information is too complex. A memory engram records the data points, but does not have the processing power required to access them in the visual, auditory, fully cross-indexed way you understand when discussing memories. When your father set my memory engram into place here, he used an experimental AI program to imitate those same processes, building a digital simulacrum of his dead wife. But it takes the entire computer core to maintain me in this state. If my memory engram were to be replaced with another, the AI program that you know of as Askarra will cease to function — reset to its default parameters in order to access the new engram.”

  Tris hadn’t followed all of the tech-speak, but he’d caught the gist. “So, you’re saying removing your memory engram will kill you?”

  A smile flickered across her lips for a split second. “Not kill. Reset. There is a chance that, upon a second attempted integration, the AI that constitutes my base program would return a more favourable composite.”

  “What? You think I’d like you better the second time around? Mum, don’t worry, please! This is totally off the table! I had no idea. I jut thought… maybe we could all be together again. Like before.”

  This time her smile came to stay. “Tristan, I wish that could be so! But we can explore the data set in this engram together. It will not bring your father back, but it may provide you with some insight into his motivations.”

  “Ahhhh, yeah. That’s… that’s just what I wanted.”

  Askarra responded to his mood with the same touch of compassion he knew his real mother would have had. “I’m so sorry, Tristan. If you’d like, for now I can show you how I remember him?”

  Tris nodded, finding himself on the verge of tears. What the hell? In all fairness, it had been a pretty tough day. Again.

  When they finally caught up with Kreon, he was definitely asking for a day off.

  Askarra’s hologram had faded out, to be replaced by an image he instantly recognised. His dad looked so much like him, he realised — in ten years or so, they’d have been identical. From the lighting he could tell it was recorded outside, on one of the rare sunny days that graced Bristol from time to time. His dad was laughing, pointing down at something. The camera angle changed, the point of view moving around the scene, until it came to rest on a chubby toddler wearing bright red shorts. The kid was lying on his belly, digging through the flowerbeds in search of bugs… and eating them? Ugh! Tris made a gagging sound. What on Earth made Mum think this is what I’d choose to watch?

  But the camera panned back to his Dad, and the laughing hero scooped up his infant son and pulled a wriggling worm right out of the kid’s mouth. “That one’s for me, I need the protein!” he said — then stuffed the worm in his own mouth and swallowed it whole.

  It was so unexpected that Tris burst out laughing, and tears of mirth streamed down his face. He dabbed at his eyes with the wad of napkins as the video flickered and reset to the start of the clip.

  He was asleep before it finished a second time.

  17

  For once, Tristan’s awakening was reasonably pleasant. A gentle chime grew in volume until he called out for the computer to turn it off. At which point Askarra’s hologram reappeared, in exactly the same location as last night. “Good morning Tristan,” she said. “Your presence has been requested on the bridge.”

  Tris found a napkin still clutched in his fingers, and used it to dig the sleep out of his eyes. He very nearly performed surgery on himself with the memory engram, which he’d forgotten was inside. Tutting at his own carelessness, he placed the chip on his bedside table and ran both hands through his hair. “How do I look?” he asked the hologram.

  “Like a healthy adult male human,” she replied.

  “Great. I guess you can’t grade me for smell. One of these days I’ll find time for a wash.”

  “Your presence in the shower has also been requested,” the hologram reported.

  You cheeky little… “Jokes like that are how memory engrams get accidentally removed,” he threatened.

  On his way to the bridge, he wondered why Ella hadn’t slipped by for a visit. She was always more circumspect when aboard the Folly, but she didn’t let the overprotective computer come between them. Then again, she had a lot to think about, what with her sister locked
up a few floors below. And judging by Askarra’s snide comments, it was probably for the best she hadn’t sneaked in to seduce him. The last thing he wanted was to knock her sick with the stink of his unwashed body. He’d been wearing the same clothes since before they’d burned that department store down…

  When he reached the bridge, the others were already there.

  Ella looked up as he entered, but then looked away quickly.

  Eh? Did I do something?

  Hopefully she wasn’t too pissed off at him for imprisoning her sister. After all, he’d had nothing to do with it. He’d barely managed to stay in one piece, and poor Kyra hadn’t even managed that much.

  “How’s Kyra?” he asked, picking the least contentious topic.

  “Stable and out of danger,” Sera said. “Lukas is monitoring her.”

  “Great,” Tris muttered. “She’ll love that.”

  “She won’t be awake in time to accompany us on this mission, however,” Àurea added. “If you don’t mind, we would appreciate your assistance in her stead.”

  Tris spread his hands. “Yeah, sure! Whatever you need. Although you’re going to have to tell me what the mission actually is, first.”

  The two women exchanged meaningful glances. “Very well,” Àurea said, stepping towards him. “While you were relocating my people, we attempted to infiltrate Gerian’s home on a planet called Obsidia.”

  Tris nodded grimly. He’d figured that much. “You could have told me, you know. I want to find Gerian as much as anyone.”

  “Yes, quite. Kreon chose not to include you due to your personal conflict concerning Gerian. Our mission was intended to be… violent.”

  Tris swallowed. He loathed Gerian for so many reasons, but he didn’t know if, given the chance, he’d be able to actually hurt the man. Aside from looking exactly like his father, Gerian had hinted several times that he knew more than he was letting on about Tris, about his father… everything. The loss of that information scared him more than the loss of the man. He didn’t want to think about it right now. “So what happened?”