Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  The others followed, to find the tracked robot waiting for them.

  The noise level had dropped sharply once they were back inside; it all seemed too surreal for a moment, Tris thought; that everything could be so calm and ordered in here, and so wild and emotional out there.

  “I saw their faces,” Kreon said. “I am sorry, Tristan.”

  Tris shrugged. “I’m okay. I guess. I mean, I’m alive, right? We all are.”

  “And thanks to you, many more of these people will survive, and will hopefully go on to lead happier lives, free from oppression.”

  “Hey!” Kyra said, snapping her fingers. “I was there too, thank-you very much. I didn’t stab a bunch of clones, but I had my own shit to deal with. Look!” She pointed at her head with both hands. “See what that helmet did to my hair?” She ran a hand through it, and it changed back to a rainbow as she did. She sniffed the hand. “Ugh! Who wore this suit last? You cleaned them after the dead guys, but did you bother cleaning them before you put them in storage for a hundred years?”

  Kreon spread his hands. “I fear a woman’s touch was sadly lacking in those days.”

  They followed the tracked robot on a twisting path through the Temple, eventually descending with it in an elevator to the ground floor. From there they took a wide, statue-lined hallway towards a vast set of carved bronze doors.

  As with all the other doors they’d encountered, these swung open as they approached.

  Kyra looked at Tris and raised an eyebrow. “I gotta say, it’s a lot nicer in here when the building isn’t try to kill you.”

  “Yeah,” Tris agreed. “I reckon the feeling’s mutual. I mean, you do wreck a lot of places.”

  Kyra seemed to consider this for a second. “You’re right,” she said at last. “It’s not the healthiest hobby.”

  They strode through the doors together, finding themselves atop a wide staircase. The Plaza stretched out from the bottom, only a short walk to where the Keepers of the Faith were lying in state.

  The crowd beyond the gates was still jubilant. Someone had come up with the idea of throwing their rough metal shields over the fence, and it had caught on; dozens of items that looked like doors, street signs and hatch covers littered the impeccably-manicured lawn.

  Tris paused on the threshold, then backed up into the shadow of the entrance. “Maybe I shouldn’t be seen outside right now,” he said, waving a hand at his face.

  Kreon shot him that sympathetic look again, then nodded.

  “I’ll stay with this miserable fucker,” Kyra said, her arm snaking around Tris’ shoulders.

  Kreon nodded, and limped off down the steps.

  “I’m not a fan of that ‘conquering hero’ shit,” Kyra explained. “All of a sudden everyone wants to shake your hand, hug you, then people are lifting you onto their shoulders, passing you around…”

  “And it doesn’t feel right,” Tris finished for her.

  “Right?” she looked at him like he’d gone mad. “It’s damned unsanitary, is what it is! Perfectly good outfits get ruined that way.”

  Tris had to concede defeat on that score. Not only had he never been hailed as a hero, he’d never owned an outfit worth ruining.

  As Kreon made his way across the plaza, the gates opened.

  The crowd began to pour in, and for a second Tris tensed, ready to rush to the Warden’s aid. But then a shadow fell across the ground, and as one the mob looked up.

  A ship was descending — not a whole ship, Tris realised, but rather a ragged piece of a ship, as though a chunk had been torn off to act as a lifeboat.

  Which it had; a closer inspection revealed the gleaming blue form of Loader, sunlight winking off the facets of his body, as he lowered the fragment of spacecraft to the ground.

  He landed it in the Plaza, between the Temple and the bodies.

  Kreon was right next to the battered bulkhead when a hatch sprang open and Àurea climbed out.

  She looked exhausted. Her posture was upright, but stiff, and her armour was heavily damaged. Tris couldn’t make out her face, as she turned immediately to the crowd, holding her hands up to forestall any questions.

  “Citizens of Helicon Prime,” she began, using the external speakers in her suit to amplify her voice. “Today you are free! The tyrannical rule of the Church is over for good. Never again will you fear to speak your minds, or to hold different opinions from those in power. Never again will you need to fear your own thoughts betraying you. Never again will you fear your neighbours, constantly on the lookout for informers even amongst your nearest and dearest. Today is the beginning of a new era — of a government that strives to help you, rather than to keep you in your place. Word of our triumph here has spread, and the AIs controlling every facility on every world have come to see the righteousness of our cause. All across the Empire, the mechanisms of the Church are being dismantled. The Keepers of the Faith lie before me, executed for their crimes. They deserved so much more — for every family they have torn apart, every innocent soul Committed to the Church, every piece of pain and suffering they have visited on you. But we must put that behind us. For better or worse, our vengeance is over. Now begins a time of peace and rebuilding, a time where we will not be afraid to be happy. So go now! Be happy! For the first time in far too many years, you will not be punished for it. I will make announcements as soon as I have more information to share, so please bear with me as we get this process underway.”

  She paused to let the crowd react, and a massive roar went up from a thousand throats.

  “YES!” Àurea said, shouting into the noise. “This victory is yours! And though it comes at a high cost in blood and tears, that only makes it all the more precious. This chance we have now, this glittering opportunity to build something better, is a fragile thing. So cherish it! Protect it. And know that you have earned it.”

  On the back of another colossal roar, she turned away from the crowd.

  Other shuttles were landing now, touching down both inside and outside the security fence. Tris guessed they carried contingents from the surviving Ingumend ships, who would now go straight from their space battle into keeping the peace on a planet freshly liberated from the shackles of the Church.

  He didn’t envy them the job.

  He was exhausted.

  As the crowd milled around uncertainly, several groups making their way towards the bodies stretched out on the flagstones, Tris saw Àurea turn to Kreon. At first she put a hand on his shoulder, then she sagged against him as though she might collapse.

  “Hey, what?” he nudged Kyra.

  “Dunno,” she said. “Maybe—”

  And then Tris caught sight of Loader. He was walking out of Àurea’s wrecked spacecraft, a huge suit of armour in his hands.

  He gasped. Sera’s armour. And she was still inside it.

  Dead.

  Something happened to Kreon then; he staggered, as though struck by a blow. He took two long steps over to where Loader was gently laying Sera down, and collapsed next to her. Tris stared on aghast, as the Warden leaned over the body of his wife, rocking back and forth. The wail of pain that escaped him was heartrending. A moment later Tris felt the psychic energy that accompanied it, washing up against his mind in a torrent of anguish and sorrow.

  He still loved her, Tris realised. All this time… He felt stupid for not seeing it. So many times they’d encountered Sera, and always Kreon had held back. Could he have defeated her? Possibly. But he could never bring himself to hurt her…

  Even when she hurt him so very much.

  “I can’t believe it,” Kyra breathed. “She’s… she’s just…”

  Tris nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Tears were streaming down his face again, and for once they were not for him.

  Kreon, he reached out with the Gift, I’m so, so sorry.

  He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t expected one.

  The Warden’s mind was a roiling maelstrom of guilt and grief.

 
; Tris wiped his tears on the fabric part of his glove, but his nose kept on running.

  It was all just too much — he suddenly very desperately needed to get away from it.

  Another day, another victory… another tragic loss.

  His mind was reeling.

  “Guess she made good in the end,” Kyra said softly.

  Tris nodded. It was all he could manage.

  More than anything right now, he wanted to see Ella.

  Kyra must have read the thought right out of his mind. “Come on,” she said, steering him by the shoulder. “Those two need some time to say goodbye.”

  She led him to a shuttle; Tris moved robotically, his mind still not fully processing the enormity of the events happening around him.

  She strapped him into the crew compartment, then took the pilot’s seat and lifted off with hardly a sound.

  She flew them up through the atmosphere, cursing under her breath at the amount of debris burning up in re-entry. The scene in space was even worse; great sections of ruined starships drifted this way and that, surrounded by expanding clouds of wreckage. Kyra skilfully wove from one hulk to the next, keeping her attention focussed on the scanners.

  “Keep your helmet handy,” she called back at one point, as a hail of fragments ricocheted off their hull.

  But she made it, bringing them up towards the welcoming silhouette of the Folly.

  But something was wrong.

  Instead of a roughly-patched sphere, the Folly’s outline showed a number of squarish boxes attached to it.

  What the hell?

  “Landing craft,” Kyra filled in for him.

  Tris felt his stomach lurch. The same ones Loader warned us about… the ones filled with Transgressors.

  “Can you raise Ella? Or Askarra?” he asked, not bothering to hide the panic in his voice.

  “I’m trying now.” She tapped a few controls and spoke into the comm. “Message for the Folly. This is shuttle… ah, I don’t know what the fuck it’s called! This is Kyra, calling the Folly. Anyone home?”

  There was a click, and Ella’s delightful old-world London twang came over the comm. “Kyra! Thank the Lord! Is Tris there? I’ve been trying to find him!” she sounded breathless with excitement.

  Kyra turned her head to look back at Tris, and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sheesh! You guys… Okay, I can get him back to you, on one condition: don’t eat him alive right in front of me.”

  Ella’s reply was suddenly coy. “Oh, alright then. I’ll give you a twenty-second head start.”

  They docked where they always did, in the only bay left operable. It was a cavernous space, easily big enough to take the Wayfinder. In fact, the absence of that massive ship made the bay feel empty.

  And cold…

  “It’s freezing in here!” Tris was shivering within seconds of stepping off the shuttle.

  Kyra, inevitably, was less than sympathetic. “You’re wearing a zero-gee suit, dumbass. Put your helmet on if you can’t take it.”

  “Aren’t you c-cold?”

  “Shit yeah. You could cut glass with my nipples, but you don’t hear me whining about it.”

  They pressed on into the main part of the battle station, taking the elevator which opened closest to the bridge.

  When the doors to Askarra’s command centre opened, a waft of warm air hit Tris like a blast of summer. Ella leapt from the command chair with a squeal of delight and flung herself on him like a praying mantis, wrapping both arms and both legs around him. He’d have fallen over, except she weighed next to nothing.

  “Hey, hey,” Kyra protested, as she kissed him long and hard.

  “I’m not doing anything!” Tris said, when he came up for air. “It’s her!”

  “You’re encouraging her,” Kyra accused.

  Ella started kissing him again. He held up his free hand — the one that wasn’t supporting Ella’s ass — and made a gesture indicating his helplessness.

  Kyra gave a theatrical sigh. “Why don’t you go and get a room? There’s plenty to choose from.”

  Ella jumped down, satisfying herself by nestling into Tris’ chest.

  “I’m sorry, the rooms aren’t very agreeable at the moment. We had a spot of bother with some truly vile boarding parties, so we had to vent the atmosphere.”

  Kyra froze. “Not the bedrooms? Not our cabins?”

  “All the doors should have been shut, but we lost pressure throughout the ship. The beasts were fairly rife by that point. Only the bridge stayed sealed.”

  The look on Kyra’s face was not a happy one. “You kids stay here, I’ve got to go check on something.” She levelled a finger at Ella. “If you’ve flash-frozen my wardrobe, we’re going to have words.”

  Wrinkling her nose up at the smell from inside her helmet, she stuffed it onto her head and left the bridge.

  “I think she’s starting to like me again,” Ella mused, snuggling up against Tris.

  She felt really warm against his chest. “Hm. I’d say that depends on how many of her clothes survived.”

  “Ah, stuff is just stuff,” Ella said dismissively.

  Tris drew her back to arm’s length and shook his head at her. “No, no. Don’t ever say that to Kyra. Please!”

  They passed the next while cuddled up in the command chair, catching up on things. Tris fessed up to killing the Keepers of the Faith, and told her how awful it had been to see his dad’s face on every person he slaughtered. In turn, she explained how she’d feigned fleeing from the space battle without warning, so the enemy comm operators wouldn’t know about the flank attack she was planning.

  “It worked though?” he asked her.

  “It did. But it was a fluke. And we lost ships because I wasn’t there to protect them. I hate making that kind of choice. I wasn’t cut out for this job.”

  Tris stretched, hearing cracks of protest from his joints. “Me neither. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

  She giggled, and nestled her head on his shoulder. “You know what your Warden would say.” She did a passable imitation of Kreon’s perpetual scowl. “Children these days…”

  Tris chuckled too. She was dead on. “You know what? We really need a holiday. Now all this revolution stuff is over, I might see if we can take a bit of time back on Earth. Just a week… maybe two?”

  “Mmm,” she said snuggling closer. “I like that idea.”

  “We could find a beach. Feel the sand between our toes…”

  “A deserted beach.”

  Tris chuckled again. “I like that idea!”

  “What would we do with two whole weeks…?” she sounded wistful. Tris wondered if she’d ever had a holiday before.

  “I can think of plenty of things.”

  “No you can’t,” she countered. “You’re only thinking of one thing, you’re just thinking of it a lot.”

  One of his arms was trapped under her; he raised the other in mock surrender. “Guilty as charged! Mark always said I had a mind like a Welsh railway.”

  “A… railway?”

  “One-track and dirty.”

  Ella sniggered, but he didn’t think she’d got the joke. She’d probably never been to Wales.

  “Will you ask him then?” she asked, pulling his raised arm back around her.

  “Ask…?”

  “Ask Kreon.”

  “Yeah, for su—”

  KREON!

  The name slammed into Tris like a thunderbolt.

  The mind that meshed with his did it with a force and urgency he’d never felt before.

  Rage boiled up inside it, at once familiar and yet so very, very foreign.

  Empress? Is that you?

  Dimly, he was aware of Askarra’s disembodied voice, reporting on the swarm of Siszar ships that had suddenly appeared en masse above Helicon Prime.

  Yes Tristan, I am here.

  Oh! I’m afraid you missed the battle this time. All the fighting’s finished.

  I am not here to fight. I am here
to find Lord Anakreon. I must speak with him immediately.

  Tris cringed a little, the memory of what the Warden was currently going through bleeding out into their mental link.

  Kreon, he’s… he’s down on the planet. Now isn’t a good time.

  Now is the only time there is. He has been summoned by the highest remaining level of elders amongst my people. I have assured them that Lord Anakreon is the only human who can help them.

  But why? What’s he done this time?

  It is not what he has done, but what he must do. My people have suffered a terrible catastrophe, Tristan. The entity you refer to as Black Ships has struck at my homeworld, the oldest and most powerful world in our civilisation. The entire planet has been killed. The elders are gone. My family… what few of them were still living. And billions of my people, creatures beyond count that teemed in the seas of my homeland. All of it is gone.

  Tris was lost for words. I… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.

  You have my gratitude, Tristan, but I do not need your sympathy. My people are screaming out for vengeance, and I have promised them I will achieve it.

  Oh… Tris’ mind was still reeling from the shock of her revelation. But… how?

  By bringing them the one man in all the galaxy who understands this alien menace. I have promised my people, on the blood of my ancestors and the lives of my children, that I will bring Lord Anakreon to them. And that he will use his knowledge to banish this nightmare for all eternity.

  As she broke off the contact to scour the planet for Kreon, Tris found himself standing on the bridge of the Folly, fully in command of his faculties again. He didn’t remember getting up; the Empress’ psychic powers were so strong that she’d practically been in control of him while they talked.

  He noticed that Ella was staring at him from the command chair, a confused look on her face.

  He grinned back at her, trying to invest it with a humour he wasn’t feeling.

  Banish it for all eternity? Oh hell…

  “Sorry love,” he said to her. “Looks like we might not get that holiday after all.”