Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  “More? More what?” The High Warden smiled as though he’d made a joke. “Can’t you just take the compliment Kreon, however back-handed I made it?”

  “This is not about that. Amusing though such frivolity may be, I have something far more serious to report.”

  That was enough to get the High Warden’s attention. “Very well,” he said. “Report.”

  “You are no doubt aware of the reason for this mission,” Kreon began. “A world of some importance to the Siszar was destroyed by the Black Ships, and our contact volunteered my expertise in the matter.”

  Oktavius nodded soberly.

  “During our journey here, I have had time to analyse some of the information we extracted from the Lemurian databanks. It is old, Oktavius. It predates the Sundering, all of it. We found it in their archives on a holy planet, in a temple that was clearly constructed by the Kharash.” He paused to take a deep breath. “I fear, the news is not good.”

  At a snap of Kreon’s fingers, Askarra projected the same hologram that Tris had seen earlier. The Warden waved at it, causing the spheres to churn against each other as the animation played out. “This is a model of how their dimension intersects with our own, extrapolated through time to the present era. I have uploaded it, and my interpretation of what it predicts, in my report.”

  “Yes!” Oktavius glanced around his desk. “I have it here. Somewhere.”

  Kreon’s voice was glacial. “I will summarise.”

  The High Warden looked up.

  “This point,” Kreon gestured to the hologram, on which a white dot was flashing, “is Arixia, in the Hamaikagarren sector. Using this model to match the times and places of previous attacks, I have confirmed its accuracy. This is no random sequence of events, Oktavius. This has all played out before, and it will do so again. Here, you can see the strike on Oracle, the Lemurian holy world I mentioned.” The hologram had reversed, and showed a second blinking dot. Kreon waved at it again, and the dimensions rolled against each other like the gears on a Swiss watch.

  “Here,” Kreon stopped it again, “is an unnamed major planet in roughly the centre of what we believe to be Siszar territory. I am positing that this is the ‘homeworld’ they have recently lost. The other attacks you sent me data on all match up, though at this scale, the timing is only accurate to within a few days. It is close enough, however, to draw a deeply concerning prediction.”

  “What?” Oktavius was hunched forward, elbows propped on his desk.

  Kreon finally managed to get him interested! Tris would have chuckled, except the gravity of the situation was dominating the room.

  “So far, all the attacks have targeted worlds we know to house a Portal.” He waved at the holo again, and it cycled on to present another dot. “The next intersection with the Black Ships’ realm will occur at this point in the Lehen sector.”

  Tris saw the blood drain from Oktavius’ face. “Where?” he croaked.

  Kreon all but whispered the word. “Earth.”

  Oktavius sat in stunned silence for a few moments. “When?” he asked.

  “According to my calculations, at some point in the next ten days.”

  The rest of the conversation was remarkably subdued.

  Oktavius promised to give the matter some serious thought, and after requesting a manifest of the Vanguard’s casualties, he signed off. Kreon was left staring into empty space, as he contemplated his next move, whilst Lord Balentine gazed in morbid fascination at the frozen hologram. Tris glanced around for Ella, who had moved out of view just before the start of the call, as always.

  For such a gorgeous girl, she was surprisingly camera-shy.

  She came over, her face ashen, and belatedly Tris realised that he’d never gotten around to sharing this particular revelation with her.

  “Earth?” she said, taking his hands. “Is it true?”

  Seeing the fear in her eyes made it suddenly more real for Tris, too. “I don’t know. Kreon thinks it is. But we know so little about these… things.” Every time he mentioned them, his brain wanted to replace the word with ‘it’. He didn’t know quite why he was so sure that the Black Ships were a single entity, but the certainty of it was embedded in his mind.

  I should probably tell Kreon, he thought. And about the pendant, too.

  There hadn’t been a whole lot of time for chit-chat lately.

  “Lehen is a small sector, but big enough.” Balentine was thinking out loud. “If there’s even the tiniest room for error, this attack could strike a world three star systems over.”

  Kreon said nothing. Whatever was going on in his head, it was occupying him fully.

  “Why do you call it ‘Lehen’?” Tris asked, more out of politeness than anything.

  Balentine’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Oh, that’s right! You’re the boy from Earth. Well you see, the sectors are numbered, starting with Lehen. They go all the way up to Hamazortzigarren so far, though of course we’ve barely managed to explore that far out.”

  It was Tris’ turn for a forehead crease. “Ham and… what was that again?”

  “Hamazortzigarren. It’s a sector far out beyond Siszar space. Or possibly it is part of Siszar space; we’ve never fully established the limits of their territory. If you’re wondering about the word, your implant won’t translate it because it’s a proper noun.”

  “From the old Akkadian,” Kreon said, stirring from his reverie. “The language of the ancient Lantian people.”

  Balentine gave a pronounced “Tsk” and rolled his eyes.

  Kreon turned to him. “Did you just tut at me, old man?”

  “Well, yes,” Balentine looked offended. “If you’re going to teach the boy manners like that, he’ll have a hard time settling in amongst his peers.”

  Kreon stared at him, then rolled his eyes in a passable imitation of Kyra. “Fine!” he said. “AT-Lantian.”

  Tris clenched a fist in triumph. “I knew it! All the legends from back home, they’re true aren’t they? Your people lived on an island that sank into the ocean after a big disaster. Punishment from the Gods for something or other. Man, back on Earth that stuff is one of the major conspiracy theories, right up there with…” he stopped himself, as he realised what he was about to say. “Aliens,” he finished lamely.

  “We were punished alright, but not by the Gods,” Balentine said, smoothing wrinkles from his tunic. “But we’ll have time for history lessons on the journey.” He turned a critical eye on Kreon. “Honestly, what have you been teaching the boy all this time?”

  Kreon met the gaze with his trademark glare. “Survival.”

  Balentine scoffed at that. “One thing is bothering me, Kreon. About this whole situation.”

  The Warden raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “How did they know where we were? The Siszar, I mean. This location was transmitted to me directly from Atalia. I assume the same was true for you? This area is well beyond their borders. It has no particular significance that I know of. So how were they able to find us here?”

  Kreon stared at the trident symbol that had replaced Oktavius on the viewscreen. “Only two possibilities; random chance, which I tend to eliminate on general principle, or espionage.”

  “But how can that be?” Balentine raised his hands in disbelief. “There’s never been any suggestion of the Siszar having spies amongst us. That’s one of the few advantages of fighting a race of ten-foot tall echinoderms; their agents are easy to spot.” He considered for a moment, tugging on the thin white tuft that did him for a beard. “I have heard tell that humans in certain sectors still trade with the Siszar, but such people would hardly be aware of diplomatic travel plans.”

  “Then it is yet another mystery that we are forced to decipher. However, I fear our intentions in this endeavour have been compromised. If our aim was to rely on subterfuge, we are sadly out of luck.”

  With no more strategy to discuss, Tris reached out to tell the Empress that they were ready to leave. We just nee
d to know where we’re going, he pointed out, so we can set a course there.

  Your kind have never mapped our territory, she replied, so it will be difficult to find a common frame of reference. I will send you first to a small green world on the edge of our space; beyond that, I will have to lead you directly.

  Tris had no idea how that would work, or if it was even possible, so he focussed on the easy part. Okay then. Where are we going first?

  Our name for it is, ’small green world on the edge of our space,’ but I have heard it referred to as Berriamund.

  Tris relayed the message to Kreon, and Askarra identified the planet in question. “We will be able to depart in approximately seventeen minutes,” she chimed.

  “Oh! Right. Why the delay?”

  “I have a large number of talos inbound with construction materials.”

  The main viewscreen flicked back to the view of the Vanguard.

  Tris could hardly believe his eyes.

  He’d assumed the Folly’s repair bots had been harvesting individual parts from the abandoned cruiser, when in fact they’d been busy chopping it in half. As he looked on, the largest section split again, leaving three unequal chunks of the ship drifting in space.

  Balentine made a noise like a whimper, quickly stifled; Tris looked at him to see the man biting on his fist. Obviously he’d been a bit surprised, too.

  Kreon and Ella turned to watch, as dozens of tiny drive trails flared around one of the chunks, nudging it into motion.

  “The central section features the highest concentration of long-ranged weaponry, most of which was undamaged in the attack,” Askarra explained. “This is the largest segment that my docking bay can accommodate.”

  “B… but…” Balentine stammered. “You said you were going to… borrow some batteries!”

  “Correct.” Askarra’s electronic delivery was deadpan. “These turbolaser batteries will greatly enhance our defensive capabilities, and should prove relatively easy to install.”

  “But… I was going to tell Oktavius he could come and collect the ship once we were gone!”

  “You still can,” Kreon said, turning from the viewscreen. “Simply advise him to bring a shovel.”

  With their destination locked into the computer, and several thousand tonnes of military hardware in the hold, Askarra pronounced them ready to go. Kreon had spent the time sending messages to Kyra on every frequency he had a record of; if she was receiving them, she wasn’t picking up.

  It was with great reluctance that Tris gave the order to activate the grav-drive.

  Worry for Kyra was gnawing away at the pit of his stomach, more than drowning out his concern for their own situation. He still felt bad that she’d blasted off like that, but he’d figured out the reason. Poor Ella… she’d been caught between her sister and Kyra too many times already, and it was threatening to fracture their little group. If Kyra returned — when Kyra returned, he corrected himself — he’d have to sit down with her and try and work this stuff out.

  At least Ella seemed to have redeemed herself with Askarra. A few hours later, after the assassin had accompanied Tris to check on their new residents, his mother’s hologram appeared to them outside the medical wing.

  It had been a long and boring duty, but they’d managed to call on every one of the Vanguard’s survivors, check they knew where the nearest mess hall was, collect names and occupations against a crew manifest supplied by Lord Balentine, and even assign some basic duties like food preparation and taking care of the injured. Consequently, they were knackered. Tris had already been planning an escape to his cabin, and the luxurious bed that was calling his name ever louder.

  The sudden appearance of the hologram stopped them both in their tracks.

  “Your actions today were both skilled and selfless,” Askarra told Ella. “As such, I am prepared to countenance a continued relationship with my son.”

  Tris gawked, and felt his ears turning red instantly.

  Ella, on the other hand, had the grace to drop Askarra a small curtsy. “Ma’am,” she said.

  “I have two conditions,” the hologram continued. “Neither are negotiable.”

  “Mum, come on!” Tris pleaded.

  Neither woman paid him any attention.

  “First,” Askarra continued, “You will do him absolutely no harm — no physical or emotional damage of any kind. I need not remind you that a hull breach in your quarters can be arranged with minimal disturbance to the operation of this vessel.”

  Ella nodded in mute acceptance.

  “Second; you will commit to resolving the conflict between your sibling and this crew. It is imperative for Tristan’s safety that their loyalties to him be undivided.”

  Ella curtsied again. “You have my word, ma’am. And furthermore, I pledge to make him happy.”

  At that, the hologram did something Tris had never seen before; it laughed.

  “Hahahaha! I do not doubt it. But for the other twenty-three hours, eighteen minutes and four seconds of your day, I would prefer if it you pledge to keep him alive.”

  15

  The planet referred to by the Empress as a ‘small green world on the edge of our space’ turned out to be precisely as described.

  What they hadn’t been anticipating was the number of ships that were waiting for them.

  When they first dropped back into real space, Tris was on the bridge with both Wardens, all of them properly armed and attired for battle.

  So when the static on the viewscreens cleared to show hundreds of Siszar nestships swishing through space between them and the planet, he felt their worst suspicions had been confirmed. Along with their worst fears.

  Someone was feeding the Siszar intel.

  And now they were here to finish what the Empress’s son had started…

  Luckily, that was not the case.

  The small green world had been mistakenly colonised by humans, before the Siszar had taken it back. That was why it had a name (such as it was) in both cultures — and that was why the Siszar, returning from the war with Kreon’s people, had flocked there in great numbers.

  So they’re definitely not all hostile? Tris confirmed with the Empress.

  Some undoubtably are, she replied. But word of my association with humans has spread. Others are coming to recognise the wisdom of my actions, and are rallying to my side.

  Tris fought the urge to punch the air in triumph. They’ve realised that humans and Siszar can work together towards a common goal!

  Not quite. But there are some who believe that killing all of you would be counterproductive.

  She certainly had a way of bringing him back to earth.

  The sudden immersion into Siszar civilisation was a sobering experience, though.

  It hadn’t occurred to Tris that the sheer numbers of the aliens would present an issue. Now, well aware of how needlessly violent their species was, he recognised the truth in Kyra’s words:

  The most danger imaginable, short of flying directly into a star…

  And this was only the beginning. If the Empress’s name for this place was still appropriate, this was the outermost fringe of Siszar territory. It would no doubt get more hairy — or more scaly — from here on in.

  There are so many of them out there…

  If only he knew which ones were friendly.

  If that could be said of any of them.

  It occurred to him to ask his source.

  Empress? he reached out. Are any of these, ah… people, followers of that ’Skinless’ bloke?

  It is difficult to say. From what I am hearing, the Skinless One is a newcomer amongst us. It is strange. ‘Skinless’ is a term referring to larvae that never fully develop into their adult form. They do not survive for long. It is used as an insult amongst my people, yet my son pronounced it with a measure of reverence. The same is true of some here; they are split between derision and respect for this individual. It is a conundrum.

  With that she was off, lea
ving her entourage to surround the Folly in a defensive formation like a moving net. Tris guessed she was going to gather more information, or to announce their arrival to whoever wanted to meet them.

  It was nerve-racking, to know so little about the situation. The Empress was their only touchstone; their point of contact, guide, translator and protector all rolled into one. Unfortunately, she was also rather independent, and didn’t seem to appreciate the human need to analyse and discuss everything before they got involved in it.

  Tris noticed that, whilst Lord Balentine endured the wait with the calm appropriate to his station, Kreon was fidgeting with something, rolling it across his fingers like a magician’s coin. He watched out of the corner of his eye, until he finally recognised the rectangular sliver of metal.

  When Balentine grew tired of playing statues and strolled off towards the far end of the bridge, Tris took his opportunity.

  “The key to Sera’s vault?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed.

  “Indeed.” Kreon paused in his twiddling to hold the thing up, tilting it to catch the light. “I deeply regret not having the opportunity to visit Atalia before undertaking this quest. I would dearly like to know what she had secreted in that vault, and why she believed that I would be an appropriate guardian.”

  “The same sort of things you had stashed away?” Tris hazarded. “And maybe she trusted you to look after them because you’d been doing the same thing yourself.”

  Kreon snorted. “If that was indeed her motive, then she was sorely mistaken. After maintaining the contents of my storehouse in complete secrecy for many decades, I have lost almost all of it in the space of one disastrous battle. Choosing to keep those artefacts on board the Folly showed terrible judgement on my part. Had I been as clever as I imagined myself to be, I would have immediately sought a new hiding place, one unconnected with my daily endeavours, and unlikely to present itself as a target.”

  Oops. Tris kind of wished he hadn’t brought it up now. “Hey, but now the docking bay is full of half a spaceship. Surely that’s more valuable than all that other stuff?”