Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  And just like that, Kyra was gone.

  “Damn, that woman can fly,” Ella breathed.

  A moment later, Kreon limped into the docking bay. The scowl on his face said he didn’t appreciate being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, though Tris had no idea whether or not the old Warden actually slept. “Well? What is it?” he snapped.

  Tris turned to him, surprised. “It’s Kyra. She took her shuttle and buggered off at top speed. Do you know where she’s going?”

  “I assumed my lack of inclusion in her plans was implicit in the question. No, I do not know where she has gone. Askarra summoned me when Kyra began making preparations to depart.”

  “Only two things make a woman that angry,” Ella pointed out. “Great love, or great hate.”

  “Kyra has more enemies than any of us will ever know,” Kreon predicted. “However, she rarely allows them to affect her emotionally.”

  “So it’s love, then.” Ella said it so matter-of-fact that Tris, who’d dismissed it at first, started thinking. “Sharki? Did she maybe get a message from him?”

  “Doubtful,” Kreon growled. “I have been trying to contact him since we captured Helicon Prime. I tasked him with collecting any objects from my storehouse that he could find floating around near Saturn. I had hoped for a progress report, but Oktavius cannot raise him either.”

  “Askarra?” Tris directed his voice upwards, as he always did when talking to the ship’s computer. “Did Kyra receive any messages recently?”

  “Not via conventional channels,” Askarra chimed. “I’m reviewing the logs… It seems a short burst of encrypted data was received on an unregistered, private comm device.”

  Kreon ran a gloved hand over his scalp. “All of Kyra’s comm devices are unregistered. Even I only have the frequency for one of them.”

  Tris craned his neck again. “Mum, can we find out what the message said?”

  Askarra’s hologram materialised between them, facing Tris. “The encryption is formidable, but I can break it if you give me permission.”

  “Yes please!”

  “Very well.” The hologram went stock-still for a few seconds, as though the processing power devoted to cracking the code left her nothing to work with.

  Kreon muttered a curse under his breath, and sat on a nearby crate. Several of them were scattered around the docking bay, in preparation for the mass exodus tomorrow. Ella was walking the deck near where the shuttle had been parked, crouching down now and then to study something. “Here!” she said, straightening.

  Tris wandered over and she dropped something into his hand.

  “It’s the locking pin from an ammunition crate. She’s of a mind to do battle with someone.”

  Tris squinted at the tiny metal cylinder. To his eyes, it could have been part of a pen.

  Askarra’s hologram flickered back to life. “I have extracted the data,” she said. “Would you like me to play the message?”

  Tris shrugged. A brief moment of guilt warred with his curiosity. Sure, this was prying, but they had Kyra’s best interests at heart, right? If some jilted lover had sent her a sex tape, they could just turn it off before it got indecent… Right? “Play it,” he said.

  Askarra disappeared, replaced by a blank white square. The square scattered in a burst of static, and then resolved into a recognisable image.

  A face.

  Ella made a strangled sound.

  It was Evie.

  And she was smiling.

  “Kylimnestra!” she said, sounding pleased with herself. “You are difficult to reach. For some. I have my ways though, as I’m sure you will appreciate.” She actually chuckled to herself at that point. Not for the first time, Tris had the thought; she’s mad.

  “I’m afraid you’ve placed me in quite a predicament,” Evie’s holo continued. “I’ve made a promise to some very powerful people, that I will kill you.” The assassin waved a hand at the camera. “And yet here you are, still sucking down breath!” She tutted. “Personally, I blame my sister. That idiot boy, too. You’re like a circus of morons, drifting around in that wreckage of a battle station. But no matter. I’ve decided to stop chasing you around, because it is so tiresome! Instead, I’d like you to come to me. The coordinates are in the message data, but pay attention! They won’t last. I’d like to see you here in…” she made a show of glancing at a display on her wrist, bringing her gleaming metal forearm into shot. “No less than two standard days. And please don’t bring the old cripple or the boy. I don’t mind killing them, but there’s really no need.” Evie steepled her fingers, the steel digits making a metallic click when they came together. “Oh!” she said, as though an idea had just occurred to her. “I should tell you why you’ll come. Better yet — I’ll show you.”

  Some sort of hovering drone must have taken the video, and now it swivelled around to show another face. This one was a man’s; older, grizzled, with several day’s stubble on his cheeks. His lank hair was chestnut shot through with grey, but his skin was pale and waxy. A sheen of sweat clung to him, and his breath came in fast, ragged gulps.

  “Oh shit,” said Tris. There was no mistaking that person. “It’s Sharki.”

  The barrel of a mean-looking pistol slid into shot, pressing firmly into Sharki’s temple. The mercenary made no effort to move away from it; it was like he didn’t even know it was there. The pistol came around, this time poking into his eye; at this Sharki did flinch, trying to move his head back away from the weapon’s muzzle.

  The camera panned around again to show Evie. She stopped threatening Sharki with the pistol, and simpered. “Oh, Kyra — can I call you Kyra? I’m only joking. You must think I’m terrible! As if I’d shoot an unarmed man.”

  And the camera zoomed out slowly.

  Tris gasped.

  Sharki was sitting there, tied to a narrow metal chair.

  Both his arms had been severed just above the elbows.

  Raw, ragged wounds showed the cuts had been made slowly and painfully. Sadistically.

  That was Evie’s calling card.

  “I have footage of the procedure too, if you’d like to see it?” The assassin was feigning innocence, while in the background Sharki continued to shake and bleed. She waited, batting her eyelashes at the camera as though waiting for a reply. “Well okay then,” she said finally. “I’ll see you soon. Don’t be late!”

  And the hologram vanished.

  Tris sat in stunned silence. He didn’t even remember taking a seat on the crate next to Kreon. “That’s…” he said eventually. “That’s… terrible. Sharki…”

  “He’s dead,” Ella said quietly. “Evie will toy with him, but she’ll save him for Kyra. And then she’ll kill him right in front of her, just to see her reaction.”

  Tris leapt to his feet. “We’ve got to stop her! Where is she going? Mum, do you have the coordinates?”

  Askarra shimmered into being again. “I’m sorry Tristan. That part of the message was designed to erase once viewed. I may be able to reconstruct it, but not with a high degree of accuracy.”

  Tris slumped back onto the crate, where Kreon had remained unmoving.

  “Kyra is resourceful,” the Warden said at last. “If we could help her, we would. However, the Siszar are becoming insistent. I fear that if we do not make good our promise, our reception in their territory will go poorly for all of us.”

  “But we can’t just leave her,” Tris protested. “We can’t let her do this alone!”

  “I wouldn’t say that she’s alone,” Ella said, coming forwards. “Not unless she’s fond of these.”

  And she held out her hand. On it was a bright green M&M.

  5

  Kyra threw full power to the throttles and blasted away from the Folly at maximum speed.

  Some of the gauges on her console were red-lining with the stress of the emergency start-up, but she paid them no heed. The shuttle was brand new, and top of the line. It could fall apart on its own time. She was angry
— no, she was furious. Rage was fuelling her decisions right now, she was under no illusions about that. She just didn’t care.

  The grav-drive was spooled up by the time she’d finished inputting the destination coordinates from memory. For a brief moment, she considered sending a message back to the Folly, explaining her actions. But Kreon could be relied on to carry on regardless; either she’d catch up with him later, or she wouldn’t. She felt bad about leaving Tris like this, but she wasn’t about to unburden her soul to the boy. Not with that damn assassin always hovering around him like a death curse.

  Kyra didn’t want that woman anywhere near her.

  Ella had defied everyone’s wishes when she set her twin sister free, and now Evie had repaid that kindness in the only way her kind knew.

  By killing Sharki.

  In her heart, Kyra knew he was already dead.

  A person didn’t rise through the ranks of the Priesthood the way Evie had done without becoming very good at their job. Somehow she’d learned of Sharki’s connection to Kyra, and she’d tracked him down. She’d tortured him to get Kyra’s contact details, and then used the man as bait to lure her in.

  If he wasn’t already dead, he soon would be.

  That’s why Kyra was allowing anger to make her decisions.

  She wasn’t mounting a rescue mission. This was revenge.

  With the ship safely cocooned in the bubble created by its grav-drive, there was suddenly nothing to do. She sat for a minute, gazing out the viewscreen at the kaleidoscopic distortions of space-time. It was a beautiful show, but her traitorous mind kept replaying the final images of Evie’s message. Sharki’s pale, blood-spattered face swam before her eyes, zooming in and out like a holo on repeat. Killing him would have been one thing. As captain of a mercenary troop, Sharki greeted every day half expecting to die. It wasn’t the way most people would choose to live their lives, but he had. He was fine with it.

  But it was the look in his eyes, when Evie pressed the barrel of that pistol against him. It was fear. She didn’t even know if he was aware enough to recognise the weapon, but his reaction to it told the whole story.

  Sharki was scared.

  And in twenty-five years of combat operations with him, she’d never seen him look scared.

  Evie was going to pay for that.

  With the external light-show offering no solace, Kyra unstrapped from the pilot’s seat and headed back into the body of the shuttle.

  Nightshade was a decent-sized vessel, with a spacious crew lounge, separate mess and galley, and four tastefully-appointed cabins. Whoever its previous owner had been, they’d obviously paid a lot for it. The rear section was a cargo bay, still half-full with crates that she hadn’t had time to examine. To those she’d added as many weapons as she’d been able to carry in one trip. The Folly’s armoury was rapidly being depleted — as well as having lost its doors and its back wall to Evie’s destructive urges. That assassin was bad news, and Kyra was looking forward to putting her down permanently.

  Except she knows I’m coming.

  There was no two ways about it; Evie had set a trap, and Kyra had no choice but to walk right into it.

  Unless she tried to turn the tables. Went back for reinforcements. Begged the Wardens or the Empress for help? Or just didn’t go at all. But in order to choose any of those options, she’d have to accept for real that she would never see Sharki again. Fatalistic as she was about his chances, there was still a glimmer of hope — of desperation perhaps — that she could save him.

  Evie wants me. And so long as she thinks she’s getting what she wants, she’ll toy with me.

  Sharki could still be alive, to be used as a way to punish her for not following Evie’s instructions.

  And whilst that possibility existed, it created an opportunity.

  If I give her no need to make another example… If I go to her on her terms, exactly as she wants, and then still manage to kill her…

  It was a long, long shot.

  But better than no shot at all.

  She was standing in the lounge, debating whether to try to eat something or try to sleep, when a clunk came from the left. She spun to face that direction, pulling the Arranozapar swords from around her waist — just as the door to one of the starboard cabins creaked open.

  Lukas emerged, rubbing the side of his head with one meaty paw.

  Inevitably he was shirtless, and wearing a loose pair of blue training pants.

  “Ow,” he protested, when he saw her.

  Kyra couldn’t believe her ears. Or her eyes. “Ow? What the fuck are you doing on my ship?”

  “Oh, it’s your ship, is it? My mistake. I thought it was a Xiphos, manufactured by Sybilline Systems under exclusive contract to the Lemurian Church. I didn’t realise you were one of the Faithful.”

  Kyra lowered her swords, but kept them obvious. “Lukas, I’m not in the mood for any of your shit. You need to know that I will flat out decapitate you if you don’t shut up and tell me what the hell you’re doing here right now.”

  “Alright!” he held his hands up in surrender. “It was late. I came in here to take a nap. I didn’t realise it was a capital offence.”

  “You’ve got a cabin on the Folly,” she growled.

  “Yeah, but there’s three other people sleeping in there now.” He grinned at her. “Plus, the beds in here are way nicer. Queen-sized you call them, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in one.”

  Another clunk came from the room behind him.

  Kyra tensed, staring at the door. “Lukas? If you’re not alone in there, I swear you’re about to lose something more valuable than your head.”

  He put his hands up again, but only half-heartedly. “It’s not what you think. My gear wasn’t strapped down for take-off, so some of it got… redistributed.”

  Kyra took a step towards him, her hands tightening on the hilts of her swords.

  Lukas backed away, throwing the door wide open as he did. Kyra peeked in — to see the sumptuous cabin completely redecorated in some kind of greenish liquid. It pooled on the bed, splattered the walls and dripped from the ceiling. Bits of clothing and equipment lay scattered in every nook and cranny. It looked like a hurricane had been through the place.

  Obviously noticing her disapproval, Lukas reached past her and ran a finger through a green streak that was working its way down the back of the door. He stuck the finger in his mouth and sucked it. “Mm! Protein-y.”

  Kyra was staggered. “How the hell did you make that much mess? I only stole this ship a few hours ago?”

  Lukas managed to look guilty. “I brought some supplies with me from Earth. Enough to get me through the first few weeks…”

  If she hadn’t been holding a sword in each hand, she would have face-palmed. She returned the Arranozapar to her waist and fixed Lukas with a glare. Company was the one thing she did not want on this trip. But at least the big lug had given her a moment of distraction.

  “Clean it up,” she said. “And stay out of my way. For the rest of this trip, I don’t even want to know you’re here. Got it?”

  “Hey, you know me.” He waved a hand up and down his muscular torso. “I’m invisible. So where’re we going, anyway?”

  She put venom into her expression, and held up a warning finger.

  “Okay,” he said, “I get it. Hey—” he stepped into the cabin and fished something off the bed. He fiddled with it for a few seconds, then offered her a blue bag the size of a purse. “M&M?”

  ***

  Halfway through the journey, she relented. She was flying into a deadly situation after all, and even though Lukas was a stowaway, he deserved to know what he’d let himself in for.

  He took the news well, and even better, he didn’t make any stupid jokes about the situation. She’d been afraid of having to defend her actions, having to make the big man understand how important this was to her. Instead he listened to the whole story in silence, and accepted it with
a nod.

  “So you’re going to kill her.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yep. As painfully as I can possibly manage. In an ideal world, I’d get to chop her into confetti and bring her back in a bowl to give to her sister.” She gave a mirthless smile, to show she was half-joking. “But I’ll settle for shoving my sword so far down her throat that it comes out of her ass.”

  Lukas contemplated this for a while. Then he rolled his shoulders with a crack. “Need some help?”

  She looked at him, and scoffed.

  “I’m serious! I brought a case of armour with me from Earth. Found it in the base’s armoury. The best they had — it was the only one that fit me.”

  “And you’ve used it before?”

  “Well, it’s Lantian-made, so no. But I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  Kyra let out a sigh. “When we reach this planet, there could be anything waiting for us. I can’t have your fat ass blundering about the place while I’m trying to get shit done. So no, thank-you. You can stay on the ship, and enjoy your sweets and your Queen-sized mattress.”

  He held his hands up to concede the point. “Have it your way. Can I at least send a message out? I should probably let Àurea know I’ll be late for work.”

  After the first few hours, the initial shock had worn off. Now, instead of panic and rage she felt more of a dull throb in her temples. The reality of losing Sharki had become a hollow in the pit of her stomach, and the wisdom of her headlong dash into danger seemed questionable.

  At least she’d been able to sleep.

  Dozing fitfully in one of the other cabins — Lukas was right, they were gorgeously appointed — she’d been haunted by dreams of endlessly chasing an elusive figure, who when she’d finally managed to confront her, turned out to be the wrong sister.