Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  Not that Tris was asking for details. But the thought gave him an idea.

  “Ella?” he thumbed his comm. “Are you still near the shuttle?”

  “Tris, they’re coming over the back wall! There aren’t enough defenders. You’re going to be surrounded!”

  Shit! He did his best to ignore that. “Can you get to the shuttle?” he asked her.

  “Yes, but it’s got no weapons.”

  “We need light more than anything! We’re fighting blind here.”

  He heard the clunk of the shuttle’s ramp echoing back from the stone buildings. She must have been pretty close to have made it inside that quickly.

  “I’m in.”

  A second later the drives fired up. Tris prayed that meant she was safe inside, and that she’d got the hatch closed before any of the attackers followed her in.

  At least she could take care of herself.

  Meanwhile, he had plenty of other things to worry about.

  “Behind us,” he said to Kov, sending the same message to Kyra using the Gift.

  Kov turned to look, and Tris sliced off a tentacle that reached up to take him as he did.

  Calm down kids, I got this. Kyra was already at the staircase. She sprang down the last few steps and landed with her swords ready, as the first clutch of Siszar came scuttling around the longhouse.

  Reacting to her arrival the aliens rushed her, their razor-sharp beaks clacking in anticipation — but they’d never met anything like Kyra.

  With swift, flowing strikes, she chopped off the limbs they were walking on, followed a heartbeat later by the limbs they switched to. All three of them crashed to the ground in a tangled heap, as Kyra rained blows down on them. A few seconds later they were not only down, they were chopped to bits.

  See? Like that, she told Tris, a healthy dose of smugness coming across with the words.

  Nice. I know who to call when I need an alien dismembered.

  Aww! I bet you say that to all the girls.

  Then she was forced to concentrate again, as the next group of Siszar reached her.

  Tris was torn between leaping down to help her, or keeping the rest of the aliens on the other side of his wall.

  Lukas solved the problem for him by bounding down the steps, two of the remaining marines at his back. “On me!” he shouted, and the marines fell in behind him. All three blazed away at the nearest Siszar, their concentrated fire bringing it to the ground in short order. “Left, Six!” Lukas barked, and all three men swung to target the next-closest alien. Again, their short-range volleys tore into it, flinging it backwards against a rough wooden shed. “Right, Two!”

  Tris spared a second to admire their efficiency. Lukas was leading them towards the enemy, turning to gun down each alien in turn. Between that, and Kyra’s balletic lethality, they had the village under control for now.

  He put his attention back on the wall, lopping the legs off a Siszar that sprang up to stand atop it.

  Ella’s shuttle shot past overhead, floodlights drowning the sea of writhing bodies in harsh white light.

  Tris’ heart skipped a beat.

  There’s still hundreds of them…

  Somehow, he’d managed to convince himself that they were holding their own. Winning, even. But looking out over that tentacled mass he knew that wasn’t true at all.

  But Ella didn’t stop there. Not content with illuminating the threat, she banked the shuttle steeply and curved around behind them, her trajectory bringing her close enough to the ground to touch.

  She’s going to run them down, Tris thought, and the idea horrified him. Sure she’d kill a few, but the Siszar would be all over the shuttle in seconds, tearing their way in. He’d seen them fight a boarding action…

  No, he begged her silently.

  But Ella’s idea was different. Swooping around the swarm at eye-level, she collided with their flank. Mowing down a handful of aliens, she threw the shuttle into a turn so tight it span on the spot. The blast from her drives slewed around behind her, turning the ship into a giant Catherine wheel. The white-hot flame washed up against the wall, incinerating a wide swathe of the attackers. With a full spin completed, the shuttle leapt away like a scalded cat — leaving dozens of charred aliens strewn across the ground, and dozens more still burning like fireworks.

  “YES!” Tris hit the comm to let Ella hear his appreciation. “Come back anytime!”

  “Ah, Tris…” there was that catch in her voice, that told of bad news to come.

  “Yeah?”

  “There’s more of them, coming down from orbit. Hundreds of them. Maybe… too many.”

  “Shit! Ella, get out of there!” He knew the Siszar fought as brutally in their ships as they did in person.

  “I’m trying!”

  Then a strange feeling, like a comforting blanket, dropped across his thoughts.

  Fear not, little grub! My followers will not harm her.

  The Empress of the River of Silver Flashes rocketed past above them, the flickering bonfires picking out the mottled green underbelly of her nestship. For the second time that night, Tris let out a yell of triumph.

  A sudden wind buffeted him as scores of nestships whipped by overhead. Darker, only visible as shadows against the stars, the Empress’ followers dove towards their rivals like hawks on mice. A cacophony of roaring rose to drown out all other sounds, as the giant aliens hurled themselves out of their ships, straight into the throng.

  The Siszar at the base of the wall stampeded away from it, their limbs drumming the earth like a herd of bison. Whether they fled from the fight or charged into it, Tris couldn’t tell; most of the bonfires had been toppled during the fighting, though a few patches of ground still burned from Ella’s manoeuvre.

  Most of the action was invisible, though shapes still flitted closer in the guttering light.

  “Stay alert!” Tris called out, and heard the call repeated on either side of him.

  But it was hard not to let his attention drift up, and he ached to know if the Empress and her followers had the upper hand. If not…

  The onslaught was all the more frightening for taking place in near total darkness.

  Bestial shrieks issued from the night, accompanied by the clacking of giant beaks. Bone-splintering crunches and wet thuds told the tale of horrific violence just out of sight.

  Tris shuddered, feeling sweat trickle down his back. The tension was unbearable, with the soundtrack from a horror movie playing on endless loop less than twenty metres away.

  He kept his rifle up, well aware that any lone alien could still make a strike on them. Glancing back into the village he saw only dead Siszar; the corpses of villagers and marines also decorated the space between buildings, attesting to the violence of its defence. Kyra was flat on her back, he noticed, and being helped up by Lukas. That wasn’t something he’d expected to see, and it nearly cost him dearly as the extra second he spent watching them allowed a tentacle to sneak up from below, dealing a heavy blow to his knees.

  Kov saved him, lean muscles driving a machete through the limb before it could strike again, and Tris followed up with a one-handed blow from his glaive, not needing much leverage for the Kharash blade to bite.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking Kov’s hand to get to his feet.

  “No, thank-you,” the leader said, a grim smile on his face. “If this battle is over, it means my daughter will live to see another day.”

  Tris looked out into the darkness, where the sounds of ferocious combat could still be heard. “We’re not done quite yet, but it looks like we might make it after all.”

  “You have some powerful friends,” Kov said, jerking his head at the sky.

  “They’re powerful all right. But the ‘friends’ part may be stretching the definition a little.”

  “They are Siszar, correct? And yet they fight on your behalf.”

  “It’s kind of a civil war, and we accidentally took sides. Complicated, though. But I’m afraid I can’t gua
rantee the safety of your people. The new arrivals are every bit as predatory as the other lot. Maybe more so.”

  “I think they will have more than enough food for one night,” Kov pointed out. “Feasting on the fallen is not pleasant to watch, but once it is done they will not hunger for many days. Still, if they come to the village we will lock ourselves away until they are gone.”

  “Damn,” Tris said. “I wish I could just do that!”

  The villagers took the opportunity to regroup, some changing powerpacks with trembling fingers whilst others flung down their rifles in favour of weapons they felt more comfortable with. Only two marines remained on the wall, and they repositioned themselves on the front corners. Both had flashlights mounted on their rifles, and they used them to sweep the ground at the foot of the wall. What their beams revealed was pure carnage; mounds of dead, human and alien both. Tris couldn’t begin to count the cost to the villagers; he only hoped that Kreon and Balentine had survived.

  He hadn’t seen or heard from either of them since before the battle.

  It had all happened so quickly… one moment they’d been relaxing, certain they were finally free of their pursuers. The next, ships had dropped from the sky and they’d been fighting for their lives.

  They must have been followed all the way from Demios’ base. It was all he could think of, despite the Empress’ assurances.

  Unless…

  How did they find us so quickly? he asked her, hoping he wasn’t putting her off in the middle of a life and death struggle.

  I chose your destination, she explained. They discovered your whereabouts from me.

  Oh no! Alarm and concern coloured his words. Were you hurt?

  Not at all! She sounded as smug as Kyra. I simply put the information out on the Skein.

  What? Tris almost thought he’d misheard her. But… why?

  As I said, I needed a battle. I needed these delinquents outside of their ships, where there could be no escape.

  The ugly truth dawned on Tris. You used us as bait, he accused.

  Precisely! There was not a shred of remorse amidst her jubilation. And it was more successful than I could ever have imagined! I shall have to remember it in the future.

  23

  Ella’s landing in the shuttle was considerably less elegant than usual.

  Tris assumed it had been damaged; hardly surprising, given what she’d just done with it. Either that, or she was badly injured inside there…

  Suddenly worried, he flicked on his comm to find out.

  “Ella? You okay?”

  “I’m dandy,” she came back, sounding much happier than the last time they’d spoken. “In fact I’ve just got off the comm with your mother, and she’s jumping back here right away.”

  “Oh… great!” Tris hadn’t had time to think about the Folly, but he was glad Askarra had followed his instructions and carried her cargo of civilians to safety. He couldn’t reach her with the low-powered comm chip he carried, but Ella’s shuttle had much greater range.

  Leaving Ella to sort herself out, he shook hands with Kov and limped down the stairs to the village, where Lukas and Kyra had been hunting the last few invaders. Tris’ injuries were minor, though they hurt like hell; he’d been lucky not to have his legs broken by the force of that blow. He didn’t know how the others had coped, but last time he’d looked they’d been right in the thick of it.

  When he found them, Lukas was twisting and arching his back, using his rifle like a stretching aid. Sweat gleamed on his biceps, and he looked more like an athlete cooling down after a workout. Kyra on the other hand was hobbling around him, clearly in pain.

  “What’s up?” he said, jogging over.

  The look she gave him instantly curbed his enthusiasm.

  “Ah, is there anything I can do?” he asked… from a safe distance.

  “You can go and find me some friggin’ Siszar to chop up,” she snarled.

  Tris looked to Lukas for an explanation, and saw a grin on the big man’s face.

  “She’s just pissed because she got her ass slapped,” he explained.

  Kyra growled dangerously at him, but that only made his grin wider.

  “Damn starfish,” she muttered, spitting the word like a curse. “Bastard got behind me when I wasn’t looking.” She reached around and touched her backside gingerly, wincing as she did so. “Feels like I’ve been spanked with a deck hose.”

  Glad to hear she was okay, Tris could feel the amusement of the situation starting to creep up on him. “It’s those skinny jeans,” he said, unable to control himself. “I’ve been tempted myself a few times.”

  She glared at him, making it clear even without speaking what would happen to him if he tried.

  “You know what you need?” he had another go. “Ass-armour. You know, one of those metal bikini things? I see them a lot on sci-fi book covers. Very dignified they are, too. Some are even G-strings at the back.”

  Her face darkened further, if that was possible at this point.

  “Hey, I could probably make you one of those,” Lukas chipped in. “Only the best. Surgical steel.”

  She turned her glare on him. “Seriously, the next one of you comedians that opens their mouth is going to lose the ability to have children.”

  Before Kyra could make good on her threat, Kreon strode over to join them. The Warden looked slightly the worse for wear; the remains of his trench coat hung off him, now torn so badly it could barely be called a coat. Balentine, for his part, looked remarkably well.

  “That was quite a fight!” the old librarian said, shaking a fist vigorously.

  “Glad you made it,” Tris told him, both relieved and surprised.

  “The secret is in the preparation,” he replied, tapping his chest. He drew aside part of his filthy surcoat, which was now more black than white. Revealed beneath it was a garment of battered plates, so closely fitted that it was undetectable beneath the surcoat.

  Tris snorted. No wonder Balentine had stayed cheerful; alone of all of them, he was wearing armour.

  “Losses amongst the local population were substantial,” Kreon reported, managing to inject a note of sympathy into his words. “I fear our presence has caused these people considerable harm, albeit unintentional.”

  Tris reached down to massage his injured knee, which was now sending shooting pains up and down his leg. “I think Kov will be okay,” he said. “So long as his daughter survived. It wasn’t our fault, anyway. Hiding here would have been fine, if the Empress hadn’t ratted us out.”

  Kreon’s brow furrowed. “She did what, precisely?”

  “She used us to lay a trap. Sent us here, then told Demios’ lot where to find us. All so she could give her followers a decent fight…” He shook his head. “You should smell her! She thinks it’s hilarious. The picture she sent me was some kind of deep-sea creature that uses dangly lures for fishing. That’s how she’s picturing us now!”

  Kreon’s eyes hardened. “We have made the mistake of trusting her too completely. We forget that her values are not our own.” He cast a brief glance around them, perhaps estimating the damage they’d caused. “Tristan, I would appreciate it if, from now on, you make an effort to include me in any conversations you share with her. Particularly where it pertains to our future plans and wellbeing.”

  Tris gave him a dispirited thumbs-up. “I’ll try. But you know, she’s still our only ally out here. We can try reasoning with her, but we don’t want to risk pissing her off. It’s a long way back to Lantian space.”

  A polite cough from Lord Balentine convinced him to correct himself. “AT-lantian space,” he said, shaking his head at the words. He still couldn’t quite believe it. I’m standing here, talking with people whose ancestors lived in Atlantis. Unreal!

  Then again, he was about to have a psychic conversation with a sentient alien starfish, so that put things into perspective.

  In terms of weirdness, he was pretty sure he’d reached the pinnacle.

&
nbsp; With the battle safely over, the last of the Vanguard’s marines dragged the bodies of their colleagues into a line. Four were still standing, of the eight they’d rescued; extrapolating that casualty rate gave Tris the horrible feeling that fully half of the villagers had been wiped out.

  But he’d forgotten that not all of them were combatants. Kov spent the next few minutes going from building to building, rapping a code into the floor of each with a stout stick. Tris tagged along, and was rewarded with the sight of Kov’s daughter Sunni flinging open a heavy trapdoor and rushing out to wrap her father in a bear hug.

  Other villagers emerged, mostly women and children; Tris hadn’t seen anyone older than Kov in the village, and now the reason was depressingly obvious. Joyful reunions followed, along with wails of grief from those who’d lost loved ones. It was a pain that Tris could do nothing to lessen — though surely one these people had been exposed to again and again.

  Seeing Kov, one arm around his daughter and another holding a sobbing girl of a similar age, Tris felt an anger building inside him. Death and disaster seemed to follow Kreon’s crew around the galaxy, but they were rarely the cause of it; as Kreon had often stated, his mission was to save humanity. Even if, much of the time, he had to save it from itself.

  But this was different. The Siszar hunted these people for sport, and must have been doing so for generations. Even the Empress hadn’t spared a single thought for them, as she laid a trap that would come close to killing all of them.

  It was wrong.

  And he was determined to do something about it.

  While Kyra helped Lukas take care of the wounded, Tris and Kov took a group of villagers out beyond the walls. Kreon and Balentine spearheaded a second group, with the same unpleasant task; they had to find any wounded humans outside, identify the dead where possible, and dispatch any Siszar that remained a threat. Well aware of their impressive regenerative powers, Tris didn’t want to wake up to find half the ones he’d shot were coming back for seconds.