Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  Keeping my eyes on the ground. Just what an assassin would want.

  She had little choice. This environment, though easy to associate with similar-looking jungles on other worlds, was completely foreign to her. Moving through it too quickly was a good way to run afoul of its unique dangers.

  She found the console a short distance away and checked it out. A few more dings had been added to it, but it was functional — and tracking another signal, further off.

  It is breadcrumbs.

  Kyra raged for a few seconds. What she wanted to do was get back in the shuttle and lay waste to this entire jungle, one missile at a time. Or just flat out refuse to play this game, and get the hell out of here…

  Had it been anyone other than Sharki, she’d have been tempted.

  But.

  He was out there, somewhere.

  Hurting… maybe dying.

  And she loved him. If nothing else, she had to make sure he knew that.

  Plus, I’ve got me a psychotic bitch to kill.

  Strapping Sharki’s console onto her other wrist, she lined up the marker and set off.

  Her first clue that a new danger was approaching was a sound like the skittering of tiny limbs.

  And that’s exactly what it turned out to be.

  The sound was off to one side at first, then behind her — and a few moments later, all around.

  Slashing the foliage out of the way to create a decent space, she stood her ground with swords raised. Whatever it was, she was ready.

  She didn’t have long to wait.

  Something like a spider the size of a mess-tray, but armoured and sporting two snapping pincers, the creature launched itself at her from the bole of a tree. She cut it in half on the fly, its carapace proving no match for her blade. Another followed it, then another; as fast as she cut them to pieces, more sprang her way. They came from all sides, forcing her to twist and weave. She dodged a few, only to find them scurrying towards her across the ground. One she stomped on with her combat boot, making a satisfying squelch; another climbed her leg and got its pincers into her knee armour before she noticed and swatted it away. They weren’t dumb — the airborne ones were all going for her head, which she’d stupidly left unprotected. She hated wearing helmets, especially to fight, but she wished she’d made an exception in this case.

  The attack was over as fast as it had begun. Either the creatures retreated, or she’d killed them all; dozens of long-limbed bodies decorated the ground around her. She checked herself for injury and found nothing, but the armour plates at her knee had buckled, proving the creatures were stronger than they’d looked.

  Better get out of here before the smell attracts something else.

  Casting one last glance behind her, she moved off.

  She barely gone ten steps when something landed on her shoulder.

  “Ugh!” She recoiled from the thing, even as it extended a sucker-like appendage towards her face. She brushed it off with an armoured glove, and squinted up at the branches above her.

  Where there were hundreds of them.

  Dangling from the underside of leaves, some tiny, others a foot long; worm-like creatures writhing slowly in anticipation of their next meal.

  “Shit!” She snatched her helmet from its magnetic clips, and got it on just in time. A thick worm landed dead-centre on her visor, fastening to the glass and giving her a view down its gullet. More thumped onto her armour, the heavier ones landing as hard as punches. Coiling her swords around her waist she pulled the hideous things off as best she could, sprinting forwards to get out from under them. She pushed through a stand of broad-leafed plants, ducked under a fallen tree trunk, and found empty space in front of herself. She glanced down reflexively, cursing her stupidity; running blindly into a clearing could well be the end of her.

  But the ground here seemed stable, and she spent a few minutes pulling the leech-like animals off her. She stomped on them one at a time, making a real mess of her boots, and finally she was free of them. It was stifling with the helmet on, and her panting had fogged up the visor; she activated the controls to clear it, and turned on the suit’s climate control. It wouldn’t last all day though, especially working as hard as it was.

  She looked left and right, noticing that she was on some kind of trail. Repeated passage of heavy bodies had worn this path, crushing the undergrowth and leaving the way clear. It was a tempting route to follow.

  She glanced down at the wrist-console.

  Huh. If I’m going that way anyway…

  Leaving her swords coiled just to give her hands a rest, she headed down the track.

  It was weird, walking through this primeval jungle in what was essentially a spacesuit. Now fully enclosed, she felt so insulated from her environment that it was unnerving. Less aware, less agile…

  Sweat poured down her forehead in spite of the suit’s cooling tech.

  It was awful.

  Through the Gift she could tell there were life forms in every direction, but that was all; it was useless in identifying the animals, or pinpointing their location. She reached out anyway, wondering if Evie would use the cover of the jungle to make her attack. If she did, Kyra would be glad of the helmet…

  She gave up on it half an hour later.

  The headgear was too just restricting. Its sensor data was meant to augment her knowledge of her environment, but she’d never gotten used to that. She needed to feel the air, to smell it; she’d come to rely on that sixth sense that was really just a combination of the other five working in perfect harmony. She’d known soldiers that swore by the enhanced senses and heads-up displays, owed their lives to them even, but she’d never felt right using them.

  Then again, some troops specialised in jungle warfare. Poor bastards.

  Freed from the unnatural constraints, she let her hair hang loose. A mental impulse turned it black, then striped it with brown. Proudly defiant she may be, but if there was ever a place not to display a rainbow, this was it. The helmet went back on its clips, and as the scents and sounds of the jungle came flooding in unfiltered, she took a deep breath.

  Much better. Now let’s get this done.

  The next attack came when she least expected it.

  Braced for an encounter with whatever had made the path, she’d been focussing her attention on the clear ground in front of and behind her.

  So when the vines she was passing lashed out and wrapped around her, she was completely unprepared.

  The first took her around the thighs, binding them together and felling her like a log. Two more snaked out and caught her arms, pinning them to her sides. Several more wound themselves around her legs and began to drag her towards a tree much the same as a hundred others she’d passed. Another tendril smacked against her chest armour, this one with force. Its tip was pointed like a stinger and dripping something foul. The stinger retreated, then slammed into her again; she cursed at the helmet stuck to her hip, now about as much use as her glittery paint job.

  Twisting her wrists, she got her fingers on her sword hilts. It was just enough. Commanding them to uncoil as slowly as she dared, she managed to get one in hand. The flexibility of the blade was enough to deal with the vines around her arms, and as the stinger shot in she sliced it neatly in two. The sharp end landed heavily, narrowly missing her head, while a stream of stinking ichor fountained from the cut end. She was still being drawn in, and she watched in horror as the tree’s bark split open to reveal a raw, spongy-looking interior, glistening with unspeakable juices.

  One look was enough. She sliced away the vines pulling her towards it and leapt to her feet, backing away until she’d put a good distance between herself and whatever the hell it was. New vines surged forwards, curling towards her all at once, but she didn’t wait to fight them.

  She ran.

  It wasn’t until she’d been pounding along the track for a good couple of minutes that she felt something warm tickling the side of her neck. She pulled up, slapping at it �
� only to see blood on her gloves. What the—? The damn plant-thing? Those vines must have had sharp edges.

  The wound wasn’t deep, but it was a stark reminder of how real the danger here was. She’d been worrying about snipers, or expecting black-clad figures to come tumbling through the air at any moment, when in fact her surroundings were more likely to kill her. This was a dangerous planet, and not one she was best equipped to deal with.

  Maybe that’s why she brought me here? To let the wildlife do her dirty work?

  “Pfft.” Kyra spoke aloud to the jungle. “In that case you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

  But as she moved off, she felt a tingling from the new wound on the side of her neck. Now that she was aware of it, it was itchy…

  Gods, I hope that’s all it is.

  The next breadcrumb was wedged into the crook of a colossal tree, high above a wide spot where the path diverged. A narrow trail led off to the right, while the route she’d been following carried straight on. She’d been lucky so far not to meet whatever had made this path; it was either lots of very large things, or one truly gigantic thing. Either way, she wasn’t keen on finding out.

  Fingers crossed, the new device would send her in another direction…

  If she could get it.

  Climbing was out — she’d have to remove her suit for that, and she didn’t like her chances of getting back into it if something attacked. She was sweating again, and the Arranozapar felt heavy in her hands. The wound on her neck was burning now, in fact the whole left side of her body was throbbing in time to her pulse. That probably wasn’t a good sign. If she had picked up some kind of toxin, her time was now limited; she needed to get this done and get the hell off this awful planet.

  If Sharki is still alive, I’m gonna kick his ass for dragging me out here!

  She surveyed the tree in question. The device, which she could already tell was an older-model locator beacon, was maybe thirty feet up. Below it, a suspicious bulge on the side of the tree looked like a nest of some kind. There was another further down, and another. It was no surprise that Evie was making this difficult; chances were, whatever lived in those nests wasn’t friendly.

  But Kyra felt the clock ticking with every heartbeat.

  Her choices were few, but one occurred to her. Arranozapar weren’t axes, and she didn’t want to risk the irreplaceable blades hacking through a tree trunk that was nearly as wide as she was tall. Instead she made two quick cuts, taking a small wedge out of it at waist-height. Reaching back for a grenade, she chose a high-yield explosive. Most of the force would be redirected away from the tree, but this little can would bring it down regardless. However, she didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity. So she pressed the arming stud, released it, jammed the grenade into the notch she’d cut, and ran for her life.

  The explosion was deafening. Bombs like this were made for taking out enemy armour, or at a push, fortified buildings. The effect in the jungle was a blast-wave that knocked her off her feet in spite of the intervening foliage. The giant tree didn’t stand a chance; with ten solid feet of its trunk turned to mulch, it crashed to earth with a sound like thunder.

  She expected that.

  The buzzing that followed, not so much.

  Great clouds of insects erupted from the fallen tree, swirling around like smoke. One swarm headed straight for Kyra, and she had no choice but to slam her helmet on and throw herself down. Curled into a ball, she felt the impact of the tiny insects like hailstones on her armour. Pain flashed in her shoulder, then on her back; a line of fire stitched across her thigh, and she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. The impacts let up, and Kyra clung tight to herself, braced for another pass.

  It never came. Once was enough; the vindictive insects vanished in search of a new home, leaving her to count the cost of disturbing them.

  She staggered to her feet and looked down at herself. Curled up that way, the front of her body had been protected. But she’d seen insects like these before. Razorwings they were called, on all planets unlucky enough to host them. And for good reason; the arms, legs and back of her suit were shredded. Armour plates designed to take a laser blast at close range had been carved to ribbons by the diamond-hard wing cases. Individually, they were an annoyance. In a swarm… Kyra winced, stretching the muscles in her back and trying to decide how many cuts had gotten through.

  Enough.

  Her back burned like fire, and the wound on her neck was hot and tender. She could feel the strength leeching out of her, making her legs shake with the strain of holding her up. She dropped to one knee, struggling to catch her breath.

  Panic. Don’t give in to it.

  It was fairly rare for Kyra to feel afraid. When she did, she usually let her anger build to explosive levels, and that carried her through. But the white hot fury she’d directed at Evie had been burning for days now. It had simmered down to a smouldering resentment, and a grim determination to end the assassin by any means necessary. The fear that she might fail to do that — that she might die here, completely unnoticed, in the middle of a dank jungle on an unregistered world far from home…

  That was stronger.

  The fear that she’d brought Sharki into a fight he couldn’t possibly win on his own… and then got herself killed before she could rescue him. Leaving him to scream out his last words to Evie’s uncaring ears, and to die believing that when it really mattered, she’d abandoned him.

  No.

  She forced herself to her feet.

  It’s not going to happen like that.

  A fresh surge of determination powered her limbs, and a trick of the mind locked the pain of her injuries into a dark corner. She could deal with that shit on her own time.

  Her swords were in the dirt in front of her. She didn’t remember dropping them. She stooped to pick them up.

  And as she straightened, she finally came face to face with the creature that had made the path.

  7

  The beast was enormous.

  Thick scales wrapped around its long, tapering body. She couldn’t see any obvious means of locomotion, but she wasn’t really looking for one.

  She was staring directly into its beak-like maw, which splayed open to reveal row upon row of vicious, hooked teeth.

  She extended her swords in an instant, swiping at the thing before leaping off to one side. It didn’t look fast, but it did look mean — and unbelievably, the Arranozapar failed to penetrate its iron-hard scales. Her memory flicked to the last time this had happened; Evie, taunting her in the Folly’s darkened hanger bay. The assassin’s blades had been able to parry and deflect Kyra’s attacks. She’d wondered where in the galaxy Evie had found such a material…

  And now she knew.

  The worm like creature swung towards her, the clack of its beak echoing like a gunshot.

  Stowing one sword, she pulled a pistol and unloaded a powerpack at almost point-blank range. Burns and scorch marks blossomed on the worm’s chitinous carapace, but the creature seemed to feel no pain. Kyra back-pedalled, until the draping vines on her shoulder told her the tree-line was behind her. The thing came on, rearing up as it moved, and she sliced deep into its frilled underbelly with her sword hand. It barely made a difference; the thing flung its beak wide open in a scream of defiance, and surged forwards.

  And once again, Kyra ran.

  The dense vegetation gave way to her blades as she carved the smallest path possible. Behind her she heard the crunching and snapping of the worm forcing its massive body through the undergrowth. Surely she could move faster? Stowing the pistol to use both swords, she slashed selectively, ducking heavy branches and leaving as many obstacles as possible for the monster that was following her.

  It worked.

  When the sounds from behind began to fade, Kyra slowed her headlong dash. She was breathing heavily, woozy from whatever poison was in her bloodstream, and bleeding profusely from multiple injuries. Some of her ruined armour plates had been snar
ed by branches as she’d passed and torn off.

  I now officially look worse than I feel, she told herself. But not by much.

  Taking deep breaths, she got the pain under control. Her double-vision was back, but manageable; she just had to avoid moving her head too fast…

  Yeah. That’s not going to be a problem in hand to hand combat with an assassin.

  The thought of what lay at the end of this little adventure reminded her about the tracking device…

  Shit.

  It was still back where she’d left it — wedged in what was left of the tree she’d blown up. Assuming she hadn’t blown it up at the same time.

  Shit, shit, SHIT!

  She stopped thinking to listen for the worm. The jungle was alive with sound; calls and hoots and croaks — but she couldn’t hear the relentless crunching that signified pursuit. The thought of backtracking made her shoulders sag. Even holding her head up was becoming an effort. But try as she might, she couldn’t think of another way.

  Evie wants me in a certain place. She’s testing me, to see if I can get there. But I will… unless I spend the next week stumbling around without a clue.

  Striking off in search of Evie would have been an inviting prospect under any other circumstances. Here, it was a sure-fire way to end up as lunch.

  She checked the consoles mounted on either wrist. The one that had belonged to Sharki was painting a route off to her right. Using that as a guide, she began to thread her way back through the same bit of undergrowth she’d just traversed. Every step felt heavier, as though the wasted time weighed her down. The bright greens and deep shadows of the forest began to blend together, forming a stripy tunnel through which she dragged herself. Her thoughts turned inward, an insistent monologue of Must. Go. On.

  It could have been minutes or hours when she finally broke free onto the path. The worm was gone, presumably seeking out easier prey; the ground where she had faced it was stained with a thick brown ichor, most likely from the wound she’d inflicted. It was a short walk to the charred remains of the tree. The top portion had come down right across the path, and the beacon was in easy reach. She levered it free with the tip of a knife, one of two she’d magnetised to the outside of her boots. At some point during her mad dash, the intrusive foliage had relieved her of the pistol that had been similarly attached to her thigh. The only weapon she hadn’t needed so far was the rifle on her back. She wasn’t even sure if it would work, having been fully exposed to the Razorwing attack. She pulled it free and examined it. Deep gouges along the exposed side looked to have pierced several capacitors. She shouldered it for a low-power shot, but nothing happened when she clicked the firing stud.