Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  Kyra moved to the top of the steps, Arranozapar materialising in her hands. “You’re welcome to try,” she said, flicking the swords so they rippled.

  Tris joined her, reaching back for his glaive. The staff wouldn’t lengthen, separated from his Kharash DNA by the heavy vac-suit, but he was certain it would cut through anything.

  - DIE FOR NOTHING - I CARE NOT -

  And it took a long stride upwards. Its glassy legs had an extra joint, and it stalked up the stairs with remarkable grace.

  Kyra didn’t give it chance to reach them. Letting fly with both swords, she swung hard for the creature’s limbs. But when her blades met the crystalline skin they skipped across its surface without leaving a mark. Again and again she flicked them out, as the creature stalked closer.

  Then one of Àurea’s captains let rip with his rifle, blazing away at the thing from behind. He’d advanced to almost point-blank range while it was talking, and now he poured fire into the creature’s slender legs. Tris caught a glimpse of his face as the laser-light reflected off his helmet; it was Captain Eudon, the silver-haired commander of the first ship they’d encountered.

  The Captain was yelling into his mic as he burned through his powerpack on full-auto.

  He was still firing when the thing reversed direction, its arms rotating around its core to lash out with bone-shattering force.

  Eudon fell back, his helmet crushed, dead before he hit the ground.

  The robot’s arms revolved again, reorientating itself back towards Kreon. Kyra’s swords flashed out again, striking glancing blows, but none gave it any pause. It advanced up the steps, gaining the top as Kyra retreated. Tris was in range now, but attacking was a terrible risk; the robot was much larger than him, with a far greater reach. His weapon was not much longer than a combat knife, and he had no idea what the machine’s most vital areas were. He gave ground, backing away in sync with Kyra, hoping a limb would come his way and present an easy target.

  But the robot was fixed on Kreon, striding towards him with arms outstretched.

  The Warden readied his grav-staff, as Tris moved in from the side.

  Oh shit, Tris thought. Here goes—

  Gripping the glaive low, he darted in—

  And the robot froze mid-motion.

  Tris was committed to his motion, and he drove the glaive forward with all his might.

  It jabbed into the crystal skin, the tip of the knife meeting stiff resistance — and lodged there, quivering. Tris yanked on the haft, but even with just the point embedded the knife was stuck fast. He fell back, his hands slipping off the handle, and raised his hands to ward off the inevitable return blow.

  But it never came.

  The robot remained motionless, frozen in place on the top step.

  What the hell?

  His answer wasn’t long in coming.

  “I have negotiated with my ancestor,” Loader announced, his electronic drawl coming through the comm. “I have volunteered to accompany him. There is nothing to be gained by refusing; your weapons cannot harm his carapace, and he is more than capable of killing everyone here. I will go with him, and attempt to do as he wishes. I have limited understanding of the process, so it is unlikely I will succeed.”

  “No!” Tris couldn’t help himself. “No way! We can’t lose you again. Not to this monster!”

  “This monster helped create me,” Loader pointed out. “I will come to no harm in his company. However, the same cannot be said of you.”

  “We dare not allow you to succeed,” Kreon said, backing further away from the robot. “A mass awakening of your people could spell the end of our own civilisations.”

  “Then you must try to prevent it. I have offered my aid in exchange for your lives; what you do once we leave is of no concern to him.”

  As if to reinforce this statement, the robot lowered its arms and assumed a neutral stance. Then one clawed hand swept back up, extending like an open palm.

  - GIVE ME CHILD - WE LEAVE NOW -

  “Are you certain?” Kreon asked Loader, turning his helmet to speak over his shoulder.

  “It is the only option,” Loader confirmed.

  Kreon unslung the backpack, and taking a step forward, held it out to the robot.

  That three-clawed hand closed on the bag’s strap, and just like that Loader was a prisoner.

  Again.

  A sweep of one blue arm dislodged Tristan’s glaive, sending it clattering down the steps. Tris had regained his feet, but he stayed back; unarmed and unarmoured, he had zero chance of surviving another encounter.

  Kyra was also keeping her distance, though her swords remained en garde. Tris could feel the frustration radiating off her; she wanted nothing more than to fling herself at this thing, hacking it to pieces. But he didn’t need to tell her how futile a gesture that would be; Captain Eudon lay dead at the bottom of the stairs, testament to the robot’s lethality.

  With the pack containing Loader in its grasp, the robot turned to leave.

  Rather than walk back down the steps, it took flight. Its wings were clearly decorative, a throwback to the biological being this form represented, but some form of gravitic repulsion was allowing it to hover in place and glide swiftly through the air.

  Tris stared after it, torn between fascination and despair. His rifle hung on its strap around his neck, even more useless than the glaive.

  There’s nothing we could have done, he told himself, over and over.

  That still didn’t make him feel any better, as he stood there powerless to stop the alien from taking his friend.

  “All is not lost,” Kreon said, coming to stand next to him. “Loader still has a connection to ALI. With luck, we may be able to track them.”

  “Will Wayfinder’s railguns work on that thing?”

  “That is something I intend to find out.”

  The robot drifted down towards the cracked flagstones, landing directly in front of the mining escort Kyra had piloted down here.

  “It’s stealing our shuttle,” Kreon snarled.

  Kyra joined them on the edge of the steps. “I thought we called that ‘commandeering’?”

  The look Kreon gave her was as black as Tris had ever seen from him.

  “Oh relax,” she said, sounding impressively calm under the circumstances. “We know exactly where they’re going. But you might want to give Askarra a heads-up, unless you want that thing to commandeer the Folly too.”

  Shit! Tris activated his long-range comm immediately. “Mum? Mum, come in!”

  “Tristan! Are you okay? Reports of a weapon—”

  “I’m fine, Mum. But the robot from Gerian’s lab is here, and it’s abducted Loader. There’s a chance it’s coming for you next. Can you get out of there?”

  “I will move the Folly out of orbit and head for the far side of the system.”

  “Yes! Please, do that.”

  He shut off the comm, relief and anger warring inside him. Was it selfish to be glad his mother was safe?

  Loader’s not in danger, Kyra pointed out, at least not for now. That thing needs him in one piece to work his magic.

  But what happens after that?

  I’m guessing if we don’t stop them before that point, what happens afterwards isn’t going to matter to us.

  Kreon hissed in frustration as their shuttle fired up, lifting off straight away and burning hard for orbit.

  “Can they get there in that?” Tris asked him. “That shuttle is tiny. Does it even have a grav-drive?”

  “Fortunately, it does,” Kreon said. “A smaller vessel requires less energy to move at high speeds, but the drive on the Folly is significantly more powerful. If we depart immediately, it is possible we will reach the tomb before they do.”

  Tris shivered inside his suit. “It would have to be a tomb.”

  “Yeah,” Kyra agreed, though with considerably less unease. “And ironic, seeing as how nothing inside it is dead.”

  “Not yet, anyway,” Tris mutt
ered.

  The shuttle had dwindled into a speck of light against the endless backdrop of space. The members of Àurea’s group who were still out in the open drifted over in ones and twos, all clearly bewildered by what they’d just witnessed.

  Sera strode through their midst; Tris hadn’t seen her since they landed on Oracle. He assumed she’d been scouting the area, making sure the Church hadn’t laid any traps nearby.

  Kreon cast one last glance skyward, then turned to face her. “Our indestructible friend has paid us a visit,” he said.

  “I saw, but I was too far away. This armour isn’t built for mobility.”

  “It would have made no difference. Even Tristan’s Kharash blade failed to penetrate its skin.”

  “I’m sorry, Kreon. After all we went through.”

  “Indeed.” Kreon’s tone was dark. “However, the situation is worse than it may appear. The construct has decided to reawaken its people. It believes that Loader can achieve this.”

  Sera’s silence spoke volumes.

  “We can beat them there,” Tris chipped in. “We can set a trap, or destroy the entire place!”

  Sera looked at him, and he felt the weight of her experience in that gaze, measuring him, judging him. Finding him wanting.

  “This is not a battle you can win,” she said finally.

  Àurea joined them, parting the crowd to reach the foot of the steps. “Father, a word.”

  Kreon strode down to meet her, but his intercom stayed on the channel they all shared.

  “I understand how important this talos is to you, but I fear for the success of my invasion without you at its helm. Is there any way I can convince you to stay?”

  Kreon’s tone was softer than Tris had ever heard it. “I am afraid not, Àurea. This goes beyond the loss of Loader. I have seen inside the mind of that being. Its thoughts are militaristic, expansionist; if it succeeds in its objective, it will not hesitate to crush whatever pockets of humanity it encounters. Ultimately, their race could prove to be a greater threat than the Black Ships. I would urge you to accompany us, but I am well aware of the importance you place on this struggle.”

  “I will free my people, father.” Àurea was in earnest. “And I will do it with or without your help.”

  Kreon was silent for a second. “I would not have us part acrimoniously,” he said at last. “The odds of us meeting again grow longer by the hour.”

  “I… I know,” Àurea admitted. “Father… please take care of yourself.”

  “I will endeavour to do so. If you will promise me to do the same?”

  “Pfft! I’ll have mother with me. She’s protective enough for both of us.”

  Kreon glanced at Sera; Tris knew the former Earth Warden was on the same channel.

  “I will take care of our daughter,” she said, responding to the unasked question. “I’m much better at it than you. We each must play to our strengths, Kreon. You go and do what you’re good at. Save the galaxy.”

  Kreon inclined his head, obviously choosing to take the compliment. “Sydon willing, I will see you both again.”

  Àurea offered her vac-suited forearm in a warrior’s grip; Kreon took it clumsily.

  Then Kyra’s voice crackled through the intercom. “I hate to interrupt the sentimental stuff, but none of us are going anywhere without a lift. That thing stole our ride, remember?”

  Kreon looked up at her, his dark eyes glittering. “And yet it has also provided us with an alternative. I believe a suitable vessel has just become available.”

  They rode back to the Folly on another ageing shuttle; this one had previously belonged to Captain Eudon. The silver-haired man’s death had clearly upset Àurea, but Tris wasn’t in the mood to try consoling her. The meeting had broken up as they left, the other commanders returning to their ships. The strategy they’d laid out while Tris was blundering through another dimension was a simple frontal assault; they had neither the skill not the forces to try anything more subtle. Àurea had assured everyone that once the battle was underway, the common people of Helicon Prime would revolt, causing mass confusion and division amongst the Church’s forces. Exploiting this weakness was their only hope of a victory; the planet would be too well defended for them to win in a straight fight.

  The mood was sombre as they docked with the Folly.

  Tris was thinking of Ella again, though this latest problem dwarfed even hers. On the upside, the others now had more to think about than a runaway assassin; on the downside, this sort of preoccupation was exactly the chance any halfway-decent assassin would use to strike.

  He thrust that possibility from his head, concentrating on what he had to say to Ella. He had a gigantic favour to ask of her, and the thought of it was splitting him in two. He desperately wanted her to be with him, to stay by his side through whatever challenges they would face. But the Folly wasn’t going with them to rescue Loader; Tris had promised it to Àurea for her uprising, and he knew how little chance they stood without it. Even the impressive fleet the Ingumend had assembled would bounce off a couple of Sanctuary stations like hail from a windscreen. The only real chance they had was if the Folly could even the odds a little; once the first battle station succumbed to Askarra’s mega-laser, hopefully the others would be inspired to keep their distance.

  It was a long shot in a shooting match full of them, and Tris couldn’t bring himself to make it any harder.

  Particularly not when he was asking Ella to be in the middle of it.

  24

  Once off the shuttle, Tris made straight for the bridge.

  Kreon split off to visit Wayfinder, and update ALI on the situation; Tris didn’t envy him that task.

  Sera and Àurea had their own plans, which he assumed would include checking on Ana. That left just him and Kyra, both armed to the teeth, sporting matching foul moods. That wasn’t going to make this any easier.

  Luckily, Kyra hated vac-suits even more than Tris did.

  “I’m gonna get out of this shapeless shit-stinker,” she announced, stopping the elevator at the level her quarters were on. “You alright?”

  Tris gave her a dispirited thumbs-up. He’d removed his helmet, but the rest could wait until he’d seen Ella. He wasn’t much looking forward to it. Kyra deciding not to accompany him was the only good thing that had happened all day.

  But when the bridge doors slid open, Ella’s squeal of delight was like a shot of pure happiness straight to his heart. She leapt out of the command chair and dashed over, throwing herself into his arms. “I was so worried!” she confessed. “By the time Askarra told me about the missile, it had already landed.”

  Tris squeezed her against his vac-suit, wishing he could feel her warmth through the thick material. “It wasn’t a missile,” he told her.

  “I know. I heard.”

  “So you know that—”

  “Hush!” she said, placing a delicate finger on his lips. “I know. I’m so sorry, Tris.”

  “We’re going to get him back, you know.” He surprised himself; tears welled up in his eyes to match the lump in his throat. “I’m not leaving him with that thing.”

  “We’ll get him back,” she agreed.

  And her selfless offer of support made him feel even more lousy.

  “I, uh…” He scratched his head, reminding himself to stay clear of the metal protrusion. “Look, Ella…”

  He sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “I want you to stay with the Ingumend. Àurea’s plan depends on having the Folly there, and—”

  The finger returned to his lip, shushing him. Now there were tears in her eyes too, as she recognised what he was asking of her. “I understand, Tris. I’ll do it.” She pulled him close, another hug that the vac-suit denied him pleasure from. “But on one condition. You rescue Loader, and you run. Please don’t try to fight that thing.”

  “But it’s not just that,” he started.

  She pressed the finger into his lips harder this time, forcibly silencing him. “Do
n’t.” There was steel in her tone now. “If you throw your life away, what have I got left? I might as well die too. The Priesthood will catch up with me sooner or later; at least if I pick my own ending, I can make sure it’s less unpleasant.”

  He drew back, holding her at arm’s length. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Why not? It’s coming for me anyway. You know how many people in my line of work get to retire? In the last century, I can count them on one hand. It’s you I’m living for now, Tris. You’re the reason I’m here, doing all this. If you’re gone, then… what’s the point of carrying on?”

  She was crying openly now, tears rolling down her cheeks. Tris felt his own sobs welling up uncontrollably, and he pulled her back into the cumbersome embrace. They clung to each other like drowning swimmers, shaking with the force of their combined sorrow.

  “Okay!” Tris wailed, squeezing her tighter. “I promise! Just please don’t kill yourself while I’m gone!”

  She took one last shuddering breath and released him, stepping back to wipe her eyes on the back of her sleeve. The jumpsuit she was wearing accentuated the slender fragility of her frame; Tris had never felt more protective of her than he did right now.

  “Alright,” she said, sticking her hand out. “It’s a deal.”

  Tris took her hand and shook it. “Deal,” he said, the word coming out ragged.

  A sly grin emerged on her face. He took a moment to get himself under control, and couldn’t help but notice that Ella had recovered much more quickly. “Um, Ella?” he said, when he felt able. “Was that emotional blackmail? Did you just play me?”

  The smile she gave him in reply was brilliant. “Aw, sweetie! Don’t feel bad! I’m an assassin, remember? I use whatever tools I’ve got.”

  * * *

  Tris was still on the bridge, struggling to free himself from the hideous vac-suit, when Sera and Àurea walked in. They had Lukas in tow, the muscle-bound doctor resting a sleeping child on his shoulder. Ella managed to make herself scarce, moving over to a distant console as though it needed her attention.