Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  Tris snorted. There was just something about this idiot — this gentle giant — that he really liked. Whatever it was that rubbed Kyra up the wrong way he didn’t know, but Lukas was alright by him.

  “I’ve got to put you under for this.” The doc did something to his arm, and a warm feeling spread out across his whole body. It was like a hug in the sunshine, making him feel all happy and sleepy. “You’re a real nice guy Lukas,” he slurred.

  “Really?” Lukas seemed surprised. “I guess I am. Thanks.”

  Tris closed his eyes, the darkness that welled up one of comfort and warmth. His mind expanded like a balloon, drinking in the sensation of his body dropping off to sleep. Maybe Kyra didn’t like Lukas because he didn’t like her? She was used to guys foaming at the mouth when they looked at her, but he could probably get any woman he wanted. Maybe losing that leverage made her feel threatened?

  It was an odd thought to have as he fell asleep, but he resolved to ask her when he woke up.

  * * *

  When Tris came around, there was a cluster of people beside his bed.

  He blinked at them, groggily, willing his eyes to focus. His head felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool — but then some fool had accidentally stuffed it inside as well. His thoughts came sluggishly as they swam through all that extra padding.

  “K… Kreon?” The Warden was there, watching silently. Tris knew a moment of trepidation; there was something he was worried about here, some trouble he expected from the old man.

  “K… Kyra?” She was there too; as his eyes began to obey him, he managed to get a hazy read on her expression. It wasn’t quite right; for some reason, his brain was expecting her to be angry with him.

  “You okay?” she said, her voice betraying concern.

  “Y… yeah…” His throat was dry as a desert, and burned like he was breathing hot coals. “Got any… water?” he gasped.

  Lukas stepped forward with a tall glass — to Tris it looked like an oasis of liquid delight. He reached out for it, but it took him a few seconds to convince his arms to follow suit.

  “Careful,” Lukas said. “You’ll come out of this fast, but the disorientation is quite strong with this drug.” He grinned. “Your own fault for having surgery on a military vessel. They’re not fond of soldiers needing long convalescence.”

  Kyra scowled, though whether at Tris, or just because Lukas had spoken, he couldn’t tell.

  Already his mind felt clearer, as the last vestiges of sleep drained away. Feeling returned to his lower limbs in the form of a prickling all over his skin.

  Kreon bent closer to look in his eyes, then held up a finger, moving it back and forth. Tris gazed at it, his woozy head still telling him to brace for an explosion.

  Lukas also watched, with amusement. “Hey, Lord Anakreon, while you’re doing my job would you mind emptying the bedpan?”

  Kyra’s scowl deepened, but Kreon ignored him, speaking directly to Tris. “I want you to know that this was a mistake,” he said mildly. “I appreciate your eagerness to become a more productive member of the team, but you don’t need invasive brain surgery to impress me. Both Kyra and I are well aware of your value.”

  Tris was now awake enough to feel a bit embarrassed at that. He lifted his arms cautiously, and ran his fingers over his head. The stubble was unexpectedly soft. His fingertips found the cold metal stud sticking out of his scalp; it felt gigantic.

  “Careful,” Lukas cautioned. “That’s the cover protecting the implant. Tampering with it can result in permanent brain damage.”

  Tris froze, and moved his hands away slowly. “You’re telling me this now?” he croaked.

  “It’s not as bad as it feels. You want me to fetch a mirror?”

  “I just… forgot that you’d have to shave my head.”

  “I could have just done a patch around the incision, but the monk’s-tonsure look is rarely in fashion.”

  “Huh. No, this is better.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Kyra added, “is why he shaved your entire body.”

  “What—?” Tris flung back the blankets, the sudden movement bringing stars to his vision. Revealed were his legs — still safely clad in the jeans he’d put on that morning.

  He shot Kyra an accusing glance.

  “Made you look,” she smirked.

  Lukas stepped forward and presented Tris with a small hand mirror. He angled it to see the expanse of pale skin stretching up from his forehead; not smooth-bald, but fuzzy with a layer of patchy stubble.

  “I’m not a hairdresser,” Lukas apologised.

  “No, I like it.” Tris studied the mirror for a couple more seconds. He barely recognised himself without the unruly brown thatch of hair. As new looks go, this wasn’t bad. It made him seem… tougher, somehow. More dangerous.

  Reflecting the truth. Kyra’s mind radiated approval.

  Damn it Kyra! Thanks and everything, but stop listening to my thoughts.

  Sorry! Just checking everything is still alright up there. Because the doc had all these bits left over…

  Argh! I actually appreciated that joke. Which means he definitely left out my good taste.

  Tris handed the mirror back to Lukas, and refocused his attention on Kreon. “Okay, I’m awake. I’m ready for my ass-kicking.”

  The Warden straightened up, palms out. “No judgement, Tristan. As I said before, this decision was yours to make.

  Tris narrowed his eyes, looking back and forth between them. Something wasn’t adding up. He’d done this thing on a wild impulse, and fully expected to get a bollocking for it. Or at very least, a stern lecture about responsibility from Kreon.

  “Ah, guys? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you all furious with me?” He looked around, his vision tracking more slowly than his head, but catching up in the end. Kreon and Kyra were huddled close, with Lukas hanging back to give them a little breathing room. But no-one else was present. “Where’s…?” He closed his eyes, drawing the thoughts into a more logical order. “Where’s Ella?”

  Kreon and Kyra exchanged guarded glances, and the Warden’s face turned to stone. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I’m afraid there’s been an incident.”

  * * *

  Tris moved through the Folly’s corridors as fast as he could, shaking off the effects of the anaesthetic as he went. Kreon and Kyra accompanied him, keeping up with his shambolic pace easily.

  “Which way?” he snarled, reaching an intersection. The small prison area was close to the medical unit for obvious reasons. Tris had never been there before; it had been empty since he’d first come aboard. Even after Evie had been incarcerated, he’d had no desire to see her, much less speak with her.

  Kyra directed him with a thought and he turned left, heading deeper in towards the core of the battle station.

  His internal map placed him close to the centre of the giant sphere when he hobbled up to a heavy door that screamed Maximum Security. “Open it,” he snapped, not caring who obeyed the command. The door gave a loud snick! and swung open, his mother taking the initiative before the others had time to move. Tris stomped through the door into a small, nondescript lobby, and when a sliding door swished open on the far side, he went through it.

  And there, languishing on a narrow steel cot behind a row of energised bars, was Ella.

  Seeing her there smote his heart.

  She looked thoroughly, utterly, miserable.

  “Hey,” he said, the word coming out more softly than he’d intended.

  Ella looked up at him, those piercing green eyes rimmed with red. Tear-tracks dodged between the freckles on her cheeks. “Tris,” she breathed, the single word imbued with such a welter of conflicting emotions that he struggled to sort them out.

  He felt Kreon and Kyra coming up to stand behind him, like an angel and a demon on his shoulders. He just didn’t know which one was which. Certainly, they were both here on the side of the prosecution. He knew Kyra had always respected Ella; she’d made that clear on several o
ccasions. But he also knew that trust was big with Kyra, and that once broken, it was almost impossible to re-earn. He had no idea what Kreon thought about the assassin who’d been sharing his bed, but the Warden was nothing if not pragmatic. What Ella had done amounted to treason; Tris had seen him execute people for far, far less.

  This was going to be very tricky. All the more so because his head was still swimming with the after-effects of the surgery, and his judgement was sure to be called into question given that he’d spent the whole morning having his brain sliced open.

  Crossing his arms and trying to set a stern expression, he fixed his gaze on Ella. “Why did you do it?”

  She rose, moving towards the bars disconsolately. Even with her head hanging in shame, she moved with the supple grace of a tigress on the prowl.

  As beautiful as she is deadly. He’d had that thought on more than one occasion. Falling in love with an assassin could be the dictionary definition of playing with fire.

  Ella approached the bars, but stopped well out of reach of them. It was like she was reading his mind, and was making a conscious effort not to appear threatening.

  “Why, Ella?” he asked again, his traitorous voice going soft on him again.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Evie is my sister. I don’t think you understand how deep that bond goes. What we’ve been through together. If it weren’t for Evie, I never would have survived in the orphanage long enough for the Priesthood to abduct me. We came up together, endured the training together, survived the Ordination Ceremony together. Sure, we’ve got our differences; what sisters don’t? But seeing her here in fetters…” She shook her head. “It’s the worst thing for someone like us. We’re meant to reach our mark at all costs; either kill them, or die trying. Sticking around to be raked over the coals is an assassin’s worst nightmare.” Ella shuddered, and wrapped her arms around herself. “It happened to me, once. But Evie got me out… eventually. I’ll always carry those scars. So when I saw her in here, I had to help her. I knew she’d never leave this cell alive; Lord Anakreon and Lady Serafine have reputations for swift justice.”

  “I’d have stopped them,” Tris said. “You have to know that! Whatever she was trying to do to me, I wouldn’t let them kill your sister.”

  “I was counting on that.” Her voice faltered. “But then in the lab, when you slew Gerian… I wasn’t expecting that. Not that he didn’t have it coming, but then from your point of view, so does Evie. I… I wasn’t sure if I could trust you to save her when the time came to dispose of her.”

  “Oh, Ella.” Tris wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around her, but the bars wouldn’t let him. “You should have trusted me.”

  “I do,” she whispered. “Now, hearing you say it. But even with you on my side, I’m not sure I’d have been able to convince the Wardens to let her go. Assassins are dangerous and disposable; two points against us. The only way I could be sure was to act on my own — and hope I could make you understand.”

  She was nearing tears, and Tris again fought a powerful urge to scoop her up in his arms. He had the authority to release her, of course; Askarra would respond to him above any of the others. But what would Kreon think? And Kyra? Evie had been hunting her for the bounty on her head, and had come within nanoseconds of claiming it. What was to stop her trying again? That’s the thought that would be keeping him up nights. Ella might just have signed Kyra’s death warrant. If he did what his heart was telling him to do, and set her free without consequences…

  How would Kyra take that?

  Not well.

  “God, Ella.” Tris came close to leaning his head on the bars, remembering just in time that they would probably burn him. “I wish you’d just… waited.”

  “That’s not my nature,” she replied softly. “I take chances where I see them, I always have.” The ghost of a smile slipped across her face. “That’s what brought us here.”

  “And here we are,” he said, wishing he could grin back at her. But he couldn’t. Not with Kreon and Kyra stood behind him, glaring daggers.

  Turning, he beckoned to them. “Can we have a chat outside?”

  Kreon’s face was like thunder, but he proceeded Tris out of the cell block without comment. Kyra came too, after directing a frosty glare at Ella.

  As soon as they were back in the lobby, the door to the cells swished shut. Tris slumped back against it, feeling as though he’d just undergone brain surgery. Which of course he had… but there was no comparison. This was far, far worse.

  “What the hell?” he began. “How did this happen?”

  “We are uncertain of the facts,” Kreon admitted. “We were unaware completely, until the Folly dropped out of grav-drive unexpectedly. By then, Eleanor had already escorted Evelyn to a shuttle. As soon as it had departed, the grav-drive was re-engaged.”

  Tris scratched his head, remembering halfway through to be delicate. Brain damage would be just perfect about now. “But how did she do it?”

  “She’s got the command codes, remember?” Kyra said. “She was flying around in the Folly the whole time we were being tortured by Gerian. She’s had plenty of time to set up her own little back doors, her escape routes. I’m not surprised; assassins don’t survive as long as she has without planning their exit strategy. I just can’t believe we were all taken in by her.”

  “I was not ‘taken in’ by her,” Tris protested.

  “Oh please! You’ve been taken in, and out, and in again! That’s all it takes to wrap a guy around your finger. Trust me; I’ve been there.”

  Tris would have grabbed his hair, if he’d still had any. This was all going downhill rapidly. “I need to see her alone,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall their objections. “I just… I need to speak with her, okay?”

  Kreon turned pointedly away, and Kyra rolled her eyes.

  Tris took that as permission, and turned to face the door. It swished open without him having to ask — proof that Askarra was monitoring the situation closely.

  Back inside, Tris dropped all pretence of being angry. He knew he’d have let Evie go the minute Ella asked, the risks be damned. The others wouldn’t appreciate that, of course; to them, that would be the foolish actions of a young man blinded by love.

  Which is exactly what it would have been.

  “I’m sorry my love,” he said, approaching the cell. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I made her promise,” Ella said, coming closer to the bars. “It may not mean much to your friends, but our word to each other is sacred. She’s not following us. She won’t come after us. She won’t try to hurt you again.”

  Tris put his hands through the bars, being careful not to touch any of them. Ella took his hands in hers, and they stood there, gazing into each other’s eyes. Tris saw no duplicity there; only remorse. And unhappiness. A touch of self-loathing. And love.

  It was more than he could take.

  “Askarra, please release Ella for me.” He didn’t look up to send his words to the ceiling; he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the depths of her jade green eyes.

  “Certainly, Tristan,” the computer chimed.

  A hum he hadn’t even noticed suddenly vanished, leaving the room as quiet as a tomb. Then a click came from the bars’ locking mechanism, and they rolled back along a track built into the floor. Tris pulled his hands free just in time, then caught Ella as she stepped through.

  Wrapping his arms around her felt every bit as good as he remembered, and for a few short heartbeats all his problems seemed to melt away.

  When the lobby door slid back, Kreon and Kyra turned to look at him, matching scowls on their faces.

  “She’s coming with me,” he said, putting as much steel into his tone as he could muster. “My ship, my rules, remember? Look, she made Evie promise not to come after us, so as far as I’m concerned, we’re in the clear. And I’m not leaving my girlfriend locked up in the brig like a friggin’ criminal, alright? Have you forgotten how many ti
mes she’s saved all our lives?” He took a deep breath and led Ella by the hand, past Kreon and Kyra, and out into the corridor. He cast a glance over his shoulder, to see the pair of them stood there, fuming. “If either of you have anything to say to her, we’ll be in my quarters.”

  Ella was quiet, following him meekly all the way back to his room. As the door slid shut behind him he stared around at the place; he felt like he’d aged a decade since waking up there so happy this morning.

  Ella sat down on the bed and burst into tears.

  Tris pulled her head tight against his tummy as she wept, and when the shaking of her shoulders became less violent he sat down next to her. Seeing her so miserable made him feel awful too. His instinct was to wrap her in a hug and never let her go, but he suddenly wondered if that was all part of a carefully orchestrated act. He banished the thought as soon as it emerged, hating himself for even considering it. His insecurities, he guessed; part of him was suddenly convinced it had solved the mystery of why someone so talented was wasting herself on him.

  Ella’s sobs abated, leaving her sniffling while he patted her hand awkwardly. Comforting crying women was a situation he had very little experience with.

  “It’ll all blow over,” he said, picking the first thing that came to mind. “They might be mad for a few days, but they’ll get over it. I mean, Kreon’s been mad ever since I met him, and it’s not stopped us having fun together.” Even to his own ears, that sounded lame.