Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  “Tristan, I need to ask a favour,” Àurea said without preamble.

  Tris shook the leg that was still inside the suit, failing to free it for the fifteenth time. “I don’t know.” He couldn’t help the annoyance that leaked into his voice. “I’m suffering from an overdose of favours at the moment.”

  Àurea’s eyes flicked to Ella, and it was plain she got the message. “Ah. This is nothing of that sort. I merely require you to activate the Portal that leads to Earth. I’ve decided to send Ana back with Lukas for the immediate future. The middle of a pitched battle is no place for a child, even on a vessel as formidable as this.”

  “Oh, right.” Tris gave up and sat in the command chair, hauling on the vac-suit boot until it came off with a popping sound. “Yeah, I can do that. We’d better run it by Kreon though, just in case. He gets a little defensive about that stuff.”

  “Ask him what?” Kyra strode in through the open doors, looking like she’d just stepped out of a catalogue in a fresh pair of jeans and a midriff-displaying crop-top.

  “Earth,” Lukas said, using a don’t-wake-the-baby voice. “We’re off back for a holiday. You want to come?”

  Kyra growled at him. “So that’s it? You’ve had your little piece of excitement, and now you’re off back to babysitting detail?”

  Lukas frowned at her, and jerked his head towards Ana. “You seem very angry. You know what would chill you out?”

  “Seriously, you even mention the word ‘massage’ around me one more time and there won’t be enough left of you to rub.”

  Lukas pointed to himself with his free hand. “But look! There’s so much of me!” He cocked his head, resting a cheek on Ana’s blonde ringlets. “I know you’ve thought about it.”

  “About chopping you into fish-bait? Frequently.”

  Lukas grinned at her. “One day, I might let you try.” Then he turned his back to her, moving with a rocking motion, and strolled off down the bridge.

  Àurea had watched the exchange with interest. “You don’t approve of my babysitter?” she asked Kyra.

  “Urgh!” Kyra threw her hands up. “He’s so… infuriating! I just want to slap that smug smile off his face.”

  Àurea nodded in apparent sympathy. “He does take you that way, at first. But he’s a man of many talents. Don’t be so quick to dismiss him.”

  “Dismiss him? I’ll beat the snark out of him if he doesn’t stop leering at me.”

  Àurea laughed, a single short peal. “I’d like to see that! But I doubt you’d succeed. For one, that man has more ‘snark’ than you could possibly beat out in one session!” She chuckled again. “But for two, he’s a decorated war hero, a special ops veteran, and the best hand-to-hand fighter in all the Ingumend. Why else do you think I’d let him watch Ana?”

  * * *

  When they found Kreon, he was conducting a fierce, yet losing argument with ALI.

  The precocious AI was evidently rather upset about how easily Loader had been surrendered; Kreon was defending his actions by pointing out that ALI had been as much use as a wingless hang-glider when it came to defeating galaxy-threatening aliens.

  Rather than get involved, Tris and the others waited patiently for the pair to finish swearing at each other. Their mutual love of unnecessarily long words and convoluted sentences made it quite a wait.

  Eventually Tris rapped on a bulkhead with the butt of his glaive, determined to get moving before any speed advantage they had was swallowed up.

  Kreon was taken aback at the suggestion of another trip to Earth; the safety of children obviously hadn’t factored into his plans. But he approved the venture with a stern warning to Kyra that this was not a good time to go shopping.

  Tris reckoned that for once she might agree with him.

  The Portal responded to his touch as it always did. He couldn’t keep the memory of his visit to the alien realm from resurfacing, but he managed to stop the sudden stab of crippling fear from being noticeable.

  This time through, even the cold didn’t feel as bad. It was like, having survived the Portal on Oracle, anything else was no contest. He emerged as he knew he would, into a basement closet mercifully devoid of shirts. He’d left the doors open too; it hardly seemed to matter now, when so many people knew of the Portal’s existence.

  Lukas came through without complaint, though Ana was wide awake and shivering. The big man had at least found a jacket for the journey, although the sleeve seams looked fit to burst at any moment. His nine-year-old charge was wrapped in a blanket with paw prints on it, to go with her distinctly Earth-branded pyjamas. Obviously shopping was popular with the refugees, too.

  Àurea had accompanied them, braving a two-way trip through the Portal just to say one more goodbye.

  Tris went up the basement stairs to scout the house, and to give them a little privacy for what could quite possibly be their last farewell. Àurea would be trusting Lukas not only to protect her daughter, but to raise her in her absence, should the attack on Helicon Prime go awry. As Tris made his way into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on for a coffee, he found himself wondering if his dad had wished for a similar goodbye. Tris had been asleep when he’d disappeared for the last time, leaving only a handwritten reminder to buy eggs.

  Tris hadn’t even kept it.

  Almost, he could remember the scene; if he closed his eyes, the image of the kitchen counter swam into focus, the hastily scrawled note lying there with a mug trapping its corner. The echo of guilt rose in the background, along with fear, trepidation, and a certain measure of resentment. Not my emotions, he suddenly realised; my dad’s.

  He kept his eyes closed, hoping some other insight would pop up, but nothing came. He was interrupted by the click of the kettle.

  I wonder why he did it that way?

  He could only imagine that his dad had wanted to avoid a messy scene, particularly as the details of his work were still a mystery, and that he’d relied on Kreon to take care of things if he didn’t make it back.

  And Kreon left me here, scared and alone, to fend for myself. With no money, no resources — just what I could borrow or steal.

  At first, Tris had hated the Warden for that. But lately he’d considered simply giving all his dad’s money to Mark, sort of a compensation for not taking him with him out into the galaxy. Then he’d seen Mark in a suit and tie, preparing to make something of himself, and he’d changed his mind. The job his friend had ended up doing was very different from the one he’d applied for, but Tris trusted him to give it his full effort. The challenge is what would benefit him, just as challenge was benefitting Tris on a daily basis. Simply handing him wads of cash and sending him on his way would destroy all that in a heartbeat.

  This new insight helped Tris feel a little more kindly towards Kreon. True, the Warden’s brand of love was as tough as his justice, but as always it was tempered with wisdom.

  Tris didn’t want to know what kind of person he’d have become if Kreon had rocked up seven years ago and dumped a million pounds into his lap.

  But he certainly wouldn’t want to meet him.

  In the time it took Tris to chug a cup of instant coffee, Àurea and Ana had said their goodbyes.

  Lukas ushered the snivelling child into the kitchen and set about raiding the cupboards for comfort food. Tris took the opportunity to ask the big man about something that was bothering him. “Ah, Lukas? You know, since that operation you did on me, I think I’m having… memories.”

  “No way!” Passing a box of Cheerios down to Ana, Lukas waved her away to the table and turned his attention on Tris. “Memories that aren’t yours, you mean? From the engram we put in? It was your dad’s right?”

  “Yeah. What do I do?”

  Lukas shrugged. “Search me. I’ve never done this before.” He seemed to contemplate the cupboard for a moment, as though debating something. “But I’ve got one piece of advice.”

  Tris’ ears pricked up. “Oh yeah?”

  “If you start havin
g erotic dreams about a woman you don’t remember, I’d try to change the channel. You don’t want to watch yourself being conceived in point-of-view.”

  Tris stared at him, horrified.

  Lukas grinned, and clapped him on the arm. “Anyway, good seeing you, mate! Best of luck to the bitch and the old man.”

  And he busied himself making Ana’s breakfast.

  Tris took that as his cue to leave. Shaking his head to clear the disturbing mental image, he made his way down into the basement.

  Àurea had already gone back through, presumably not wanting Tris to see her all upset and vulnerable. Well, he could relate to that; the thought of someone walking in on him and Ella during their tearful moment on the bridge made his cheeks burn.

  Friends, mentors, assassins… they’re all as bad as each other.

  Kreon might think he was developing a cynical streak, but it would need to be a mile wide before he was safe to become a Warden.

  When Tris stepped back into the Folly’s docking bay, both Kreon and Kyra were waiting for him.

  “Alright then,” Kyra said, cracking her knuckles in sequence. The sound echoed back from the vast empty space, causing Kreon to make a pained face. “Let’s go hunt some robots.”

  Tris admired her enthusiasm, even though he didn’t share it. “Hey, since you’re both here, do you mind if I ask you something?”

  The pair exchanged glances. “Sure,” Kyra said. “You’d still ask though, even if I said no.”

  Tris ignored that. “What did Lukas actually do to me? Do either of you know?”

  Kreon answered him. “I was under the impression that he installed a socket, similar to the one I myself would have recommended. However, instead of inserting a blank recording medium, or a drive containing information designed to be easily browsable, he placed your father’s memory engram into the socket. It is easily removable, if that’s what you’re asking?”

  “No, it’s just I… I’m having memories. Flashes of them, anyway. Memories that aren’t mine.”

  “I knew it!” Kyra levelled a finger at him. “That wasn’t you on the bridge, when we first arrived above Oracle. You were issuing commands, navigating the console menus… as though you’d done it all a thousand times before. But you haven’t.”

  “No,” Tris admitted. “I haven’t. And you know what else is weird? I can read now, too. Before, when I looked at the walls and controls around here, all I saw was a bunch of scraggly symbols. But now they make sense — not like they’re in English, but like I just look at them and know instantly what they mean.”

  “Really?” Kyra raised an eyebrow at him. “We need to test that. If it’s true…” Then she snapped her fingers. “Right! I’ve got an experiment. Follow me.”

  Tris felt a twinge of excitement as she led the way out of the docking bay. Many of the Folly’s mysteries had remained just that, for precisely this reason; Tris didn’t have time to learn the alien scribble the signage was written in, and no-one had time to teach him. He’d never seen books in Kyra’s quarters, but presumably she had something in mind to show him. A combat training manual perhaps? Or even something about the history of Kreon’s people before they left Earth?

  He hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were going, so he looked up with surprise when he reached the mess hall. He visited the room a few times each day, having mastered the use of some of the food-prep devices, but aside from that it didn’t hold much of interest.

  “See that?” Kyra pointed to a note scrawled in hand-writing, which had been fastened to the wall above the seat he normally used. “Can you read it?”

  Tris concentrated, staring at the mess of squiggles. One by one, they resolved themselves into meaning in his mind. “It says…” he furrowed his brow. “Take… take back? All dishes… to the galley and… clean them?”

  “YES!” She punched the air in triumph. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks! We’re just never in here at the same time.”

  “So, what? You brought me all the way over here just to kick my ass?”

  “Hell yes! I don’t know why that surprises you. Now for your next project: that little bathroom that opens off the bridge? I’ve put a note in there, too, above the toilet. Go read that one.”

  * * *

  Tris, Kreon and Kyra transferred to Wayfinder for their return trip to Gerian’s laboratory.

  Tris snuck off first for a tearful goodbye with Ella; as always, he found himself wishing desperately for more time with her. They barely talked — just clung to each other, while he breathed in the wonderful scent of her hair.

  Similarly, the Warden had taken a few private moments to wish his family good luck. He’d emerged from the meeting subdued, but brandishing Àurea’s little golden pinecone. Apparently Gerian had confiscated it and she’d stolen it back on Obsidia. Tris wasn’t sure what good it would do, but it might be of more use to them than it would be in Àurea’s space battle.

  ALI chafed at yet more delays, but Tris snapped at her for it; after all, he pointed out, Loader himself wasn’t in any direct danger.

  If only the same could be said for the rest of them.

  Lifting off from the Folly’s docking bay, Tris couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever see the battle-scarred station again. In the short time since his abduction from Earth, he’d come to see the place as home. Not only that; the giant metal sphere was, to all intents and purposes, his last living relative. Leaving it was hard at the best of times; leaving it when the love of his life was inside it, and they were both setting off on virtual suicide missions, was almost too much to bear.

  Fortunately, the remainder of his time was thoroughly accounted for.

  With the better part of a full day to kill, the three of them convened in the crew lounge, leaving care of the ship to ALI.

  They had a lot to talk about; possible tactics for dealing with the robot, the strange flashes of memory Tris was experiencing, and all the information they’d amassed about the Black Ships. With little but suggestions, guesswork and theorising on every topic, the circular debate rapidly grew wearisome. Tris would have pulled his hair out, if he’d had any. But their sessions were punctuated by rest breaks, during which Kyra made helpful attempts to encourage his newfound abilities.

  On his bed, she left a printed-out copy of a book she’d downloaded for him to practise reading.

  Its title wasn’t particularly inspiring: ‘Rolo the Rad-Rat’.

  He idly flicked through a few pages whilst munching on a ration bar (he’d stopped preparing as much food for himself now he had to do the dishes afterwards).

  The story went something like, ‘Here is Rolo. Rolo is a rat. Rolo likes Rad. He’s a Rad-rat.’

  And the best part? It was illustrated.

  He closed the book and put his head in his hands, realising his worst fear had come true; he’d just given Kyra a brand-new reason to mess with him.

  Damn that woman! I should have told Lukas she was in love with him…

  In all honesty, it was a welcome distraction.

  But it couldn’t last.

  Tris couldn’t help thinking that the mission they were on was probably the most difficult yet. Always before, he’d had some inkling of how they planned to accomplish their task. Kreon wasn’t big on sharing, but he usually made sure Tris knew the broad strokes of the plan.

  Yet now, after approaching the problem from every way they could think of, they’d come to the conclusion that there was no plan. Unless they could lure the robot out into space, and get it to stay still long enough to blast it with the railguns, they didn’t have a way to defeat it.

  Tris gratefully took the opportunity to suggest Ella’s strategy, reinventing it for the time being as his own. Grabbing Loader and making a run for it seemed a whole lot more likely than managing to destroy the utterly impervious robot, and there was a chance that without Loader’s help, it would never be able to rouse its people.

  The problem, of course, was that the robot had
found them easily on Oracle; clearly it had some method of locating Loader, even at vast distances. It would simply pursue them until it got what it needed; they couldn’t run from it forever, especially once collateral damage became a factor.

  Kreon had brought with him a handful of treasures from his store house — those that were left, anyway. The only thing that offered any promise was Mairugar; the insanely potent explosive that Blas had used to destroy the immense stone fortress of Homeguard. But whilst it could be thrown like a grenade in its golf-ball-sized capsules, or planted like a bomb and ignited by a laser blast, there wasn’t nearly enough of it to vaporise a moon. The best they could come up with was to use their speed advantage to reach the tomb first, and to spend as much time as possible seeding the last seventeen vials of the deadly substance all around the chamber. With luck, the dormant bodies would prove vulnerable to its effects, and they could snatch Loader and blow the place on the way out.

  It’s kind of a plan, Tris told himself.

  A terrible plan that was almost certainly doomed to failure, but still the best that any of them could come up with.

  Beyond that, Tris had visions of them jogging around the cavern like rugby players, passing Loader to each other over the robot’s head whenever it came too close. It was funny, in a cartoon-y kind of way. But the truth of the matter was, if it came to that, they were all going to wind up dead.

  * * *

  He was on Wayfinder’s bridge with the others, helping to monitor the sensors, when they reached their destination.

  They were already geared up; Tris had found a suit of armour designed for fighting in zero-gee buried in the back of the armoury, now he could read the labels on the crates. He had a case fastened to his back which contained five precious vials of Mairugar, secured in shock-absorbing glass cylinders. The metallic purple liquid seemed to have a life of its own, swirling constantly inside each little sphere. He hoped it would be enough.