Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  “No, it’s not,” she pointed out. “I’ve already had way too much of this night, thank-you very much. It can end whenever it’s ready.”

  They reached the ship, and Kyra could make out the terrified pilot inside. Peering frantically through the cockpit canopy, he waved when he saw them. Kyra waved back, whilst praying he hadn’t peed himself in the captain’s seat.

  She did a quick visual inspection around one side, checking for signs of fresh damage. Luckily, the shuttle had managed to sit out most of the action they’d been through. Rather than head back to the main hatch, she palmed the cargo ramp release. The wide door depressurised with a hiss, before swinging smoothly down to form a ramp.

  Her nostrils were assailed immediately.

  Rotting meat… damn it!

  “Lukas, you have got to do something with that thing.” She gestured at the massive dead animal he’d somehow managed to drag on board during their last adventure. She’d depressurised the cargo bay on leaving the jungle planet, flash-freezing its contents with the icy vacuum of space. Until now, it had stopped the immense hunk of meat from stinking… but that wasn’t why she’d done it.

  Tucked away at the back, his body wrapped in a tarp, lay Sharki.

  She still hadn’t figured out what to do with him.

  “Hey, what about your friend?”

  The words snapped her out of her memories. Damn, she was going to miss that man. “What friend?”

  “The big Siszar girl,” Lukas said. “You think she’s still hungry?”

  Putting the dots together, Kyra figured out what he meant. “Dunno. She did say we’d all need sustenance soon.”

  Ignoring the throbbing inside her skull, she reached out with the Gift. My Lady? I have a little present here for you, if you’d like.

  The Empress’s response was instantaneous. I am right behind you.

  Kyra straightened and turned… and there she was.

  Sydon’s Name! You move quiet.

  When humans are flapping their mouths, they see little of the world around them.

  Kyra didn’t have an argument for that. Usually she relied on the Gift for situational awareness, but after that séance with the Siszar Elder… she shuddered just a tiny bit. There was something about the massive aliens that were just so… alien, y’know?

  Here. She pointed into the cargo hold. Lukas killed a dinosaur. Do you want some?

  If the Empress had discernible eyes, they’d have gone like saucers. This is your mate’s kill?

  Not my mate.

  But he should be! He makes kills many times his own size. You must allow him to fertilise you immediately.

  Kyra snorted. Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. My real mate is over there — she pointed — at the back of the bay. He died trying to protect me.

  Ah. A fitting end for a male. The Empress was silent for a moment. Would you like me to eat him as well?

  At this, Kyra broke into a chuckle. No, but my thanks for the offer. With typical human inefficiency, I think we’ll bury him.

  Taking that as her cue, the Empress reached into the cargo bay. Wrapping two limbs around the carcass she dragged it out, leaving a hideous smear on the deck that made Kyra wince.

  Ugh! I’m going to have to scrub that.

  “Do you think she liked it?” Lukas asked, when the present had been hauled off into the darkness.

  “She definitely likes you,” Kyra said.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. If you play your cards right, I reckon you could hit that.”

  Lukas looked suitably disgusted.

  “But Sharki can’t stay in there, either,” Kyra continued. “I’m thinking maybe we should bury him.”

  Lukas nodded soberly. “Here?”

  “No reason why not. He wasn’t the sentimental type. Most of his buddies were scattered throughout the galaxy in unmarked graves… he always said he’d end up that way, someday. I’d hate to disappoint him.”

  “Okay.” Lukas padded up the ramp. “I’ll see if I can find a shovel.”

  “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Kyra said, not following him in. “It’s late, we’re tired…”

  Lukas turned and flashed her a smile. “Are you kidding? All I’ve been doing is holding a rifle.” He bent one meaty arm until the bicep popped, then ducked his head and kissed it. “Digging is what these puppies were made for!”

  She chuckled again, glad of the release. Her emotions were all over the place at the moment; she could just as easily have cried.

  That would do wonders for my rep.

  “Thank-you Lukas,” she said instead.

  The big man froze in place, wary as a smuggler at a blockade.

  “I mean it.” She fought to keep the customary sarcasm out of her voice. “Thanks for… you know. Saving my life and stuff.”

  At this, he relaxed and smiled at her again. “Which time?”

  “What do you mean? Just now, when you blew that bastard starfish off my ass.” She crinkled her brow. “Oh, you mean before, in the jungle? I totally had that covered.”

  “Yeah, right,” he protested. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t get to wear a dinosaur.”

  They made short work of the digging. Or rather Lukas, did, his bulging muscles finally proving good for something. Lowering Sharki in was a difficult moment, but she managed to keep her shit together long enough to get it done.

  By the time they’d finished filling the grave in, the Empress and her followers had gone. Kyra wasn’t looking forward to seeing the mess they’d left behind, but she didn’t have a lot of choice in that; dawn couldn’t be more than a few hours off.

  Finally done, Lukas stepped back from the mound he’d made and leaned on his shovel for a breather. Kyra’s lay folded nearby; she hadn’t been able to pick it up again, after watching the first scatter of earth land on Sharki’s tarp. The process of the ground slowly swallowing him up had hypnotised her, and she’d gone somewhere in her memories for a while.

  Now, with that task completed, there was only one more thing to be done.

  The hardest part.

  She stepped up to the edge of the mound and addressed Sharki’s ghost, changing her hair to the black-with-red-streaks he was so familiar with.

  At first, no words came. She was trying too hard. “Ah, crap. You know I’m not good at this stuff. Look, you took a chance on me, and I’ll always be grateful for that. You took me in when you had no good reason to. You’ve saved my ass a bunch of times… but I think we’re more than even on that score.”

  She broke off, still groping for the right words. “But you looked after me, taught me stuff, brought me up the ranks… you trusted me.” She stifled a sob. “And you loved me. And I know I didn’t always show it in the best way, but I loved you too. I always thought when I was done with all this crap we’d grow old together… the two baddest mercenaries in the care home, y’know? Or go out together in a blaze of glory, or…” she trailed off, and took a steadying breath. “Anything but this. I’m sorry, man. I really am. But I’ll find that bitch, you have my word. I’ll find her, and I’ll make her bleed.”

  She stepped back, not sure what else to say. She didn’t dare look at Lukas, in case he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “I miss you,” she added quietly.

  She came close to breaking down again, and just managed to shove a lid on it. Damn emotions! They were good for exactly one thing; causing pain. They were going to get her killed one day. She squelched down hard on her loss, on the terrible emptiness it brought with it, on any semblance of vulnerability it had engendered. Down deep she stuffed it all, forcing herself to breathe slowly, steadily, until a suitably impenetrable facade had been restored.

  It was a technique she’d had plenty of practice at, over the years.

  There. All better now.

  Thankfully, Lukas hadn’t watched her during the process. He was staring glumly at the grave, perhaps wondering what other dubious delights this night would throw at
him. He gestured with the point of his shovel. “What would he do next? If it was one of his guys in there?”

  Kyra wiped her eyes on the heel of her palm. Not that she had any make-up to risk smudging. “Drink. He ran a merc troop, and we lost of lot of guys over the years. Normally, it was an excuse for a piss-up.”

  Lukas folded the shovel he’d been leaning on. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan I can get behind.”

  Kyra glanced up at Nightshade’s smooth hull, which vanished into the darkness above them. “You staying in here tonight?”

  “If you don’t mind. Beats a mud hut, anyway.”

  “Damn straight it does. I’ll take the pilot back to the village and see if I can scrounge up some grog. Doesn’t matter where humans live, you can bet they’ll come up with something to drink.”

  Lukas made a face. “I’ve got a sophisticated palate. I used to be a doctor, you know.”

  “Alright, Mr Sensitive. I’ll try and find something that wasn’t brewed from piss.”

  He wrinkled his nose, then sniffed. “Hey, I smell food… meat cooking!”

  “Not just burning Siszar?”

  “My nose is pretty sensitive too, for your information.”

  She took a deep breath in, and the faint smell of a wood fire tickled her nostrils… along with something else that put her saliva glands into overdrive. “Alright, I get the hint. I’ll see if I can grab us a skewer of whatever that crap is on the way past. But you’d better be ready to eat a tentacle.”

  “Right now, I think I could eat one raw.”

  “Don’t tempt me, man!” She rapped her knuckles on Nightshade’s hull, and called out to the pilot inside. “Hey, fly-boy! Safe passage to the village leaves in ten seconds.” She headed for where the main ramp would emerge at the front of the craft, leaving Lukas to stow their tools. “And take a shower,” she called to him. “You smell like you’ve been killing aliens all night.”

  “Thanks, Kyra,” he said.

  The words sounded odd, coming from him. She stopped, and looked back at him. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah.” She levelled a finger. “And it’s going to cost you. When I get back, you’re having two fingers of the roughest, skankiest grog I can dredge up.”

  The pilot met her at the ramp. He didn’t seem the nervous type, but close encounters with the Siszar did strange things to people. “How’s my ship?” she asked, as she led him away. “You better not have made a mess in there.”

  “No sir,” he snapped back — clearly a military man. “She handles well, but she’s a bit on the small size for me. I haven’t flown anything under cruiser-class for over ten years.”

  “So the Vanguard was yours?”

  “She was,” he said, a note of pride in his voice.

  “Never mind. I’m sure they’ll get you a new one.”

  He was strangely quiet for the rest of the walk.

  The village was still a hive of activity, even at this hour. People strode to and fro with purpose, or huddled in corners to weep. The dead Siszar had been mostly removed, with teams of men and women straining in rope harnesses to drag the last few corpses away. The injured villagers were being tended in the longhouse; seeing them made Kyra feel guilty about monopolising the only real doctor. It was still hard to think of Lukas that way. He reminded her of the big, oafish guards her parents had recruited once all the proper fighting was done. Her fighting… Idly, she wondered if any of the kids she trained had kept up with their studies. Probably not. And that would probably come back to bite them at some point.

  It was weird to be thinking of home. Sometimes months passed without it crossing her mind. There’d just been so much stress lately, so many losses… she found herself longing for a tiny sliver of the boredom she’d once suffered through. The gilded cage; public appearances and ball gowns and galas… the endless conspiratorial chit-chat of court. Not a lot of it; she didn’t miss it that much. Just, maybe, a couple of days. A nice bath or three. A dress that accentuated her femininity. A dance…

  Huh. Might as well dance with a starfish. What the hell’s the matter with me?

  She went to run her hands through her hair, and stopped herself just in time.

  Oh, that’s right. I’m covered in alien guts.

  She shook her head. I feel old. And I’m not even ninety! No wonder Kreon’s such a moody bastard.

  It had been a long night. What she really needed was a stiff drink. Several of them, ideally. And the chance to pass out for at least the next twelve hours.

  After that…

  I guess we’ve got us a galaxy to save.

  At least this life was never dull.

  She used the Gift to locate Kreon. The old man had retired to his knackered shuttle for the night, citing the exhaustion that came from his conversation with the Siszar Elder. Tris had turned in as well, taking one of the shuttle’s other cabins. She didn’t bother touching his mind; Ella was in there too, and that was all the information she needed. But there were still a few rooms empty, and she pointed the Vanguard’s pilot in their direction. Armed with the hatch codes and her suggestion that he knock before opening any doors, he scurried gratefully towards the shuttle.

  Was it ridiculous that she’d brought him out of one shuttle, and all the way into the village just to put him on another one?

  Probably.

  But she justified it because she didn’t want strangers sleeping on Nightshade.

  Lukas was a different story… and at least he wasn’t bad to look at. It was handy having someone of his size around, if only for the digging. And boy, could that man dig. She found herself suddenly wondering if he was that big all over…

  Oh, no! Put that thought right out of your head! It wouldn’t be the first time she’d followed a funeral with an ill-advised sexual encounter. But not this time. Not with Sharki’s body lying less than ten metres from her bunk. Eight across… and two straight down.

  She found Kov outside the longhouse, talking quietly with Lord Balentine, so she sauntered up. “Either of you know where to get a drink?”

  Kov’s brow furrowed. “Drink? Oh, you mean the strong kind! Yes, we have plenty. More than we have mouths, after tonight.” He said it in the manner of a joke, but Kyra reached out with the Gift and could tell the man was deeply troubled. The dead villagers couldn’t be gathered until tomorrow, at which point he would have a lot of funerals to attend. But more than that, he was looking towards the future. There was only one spark of hope in his mind, and he was guarding it carefully, like an ember that could go out at any time.

  And that ember had a name…

  Tristan.

  “Who is your friend?” Kov asked her, as though he was the one reading her thoughts.

  She glanced around reflexively, but knew straight away who he was referring to. “Tris? Ah, he’s just… he’s Kreon’s apprentice. He’s a boy from Earth with big ideas and a lot of heart.” She winked at Kov. “Not much experience though. Why?”

  “He promised me that he would free my people.”

  Kyra was lost for words for a few seconds. “Oh,” she said eventually. Whilst mentally giving Tris a slap.

  “He said that he would take us all away from this place. To a better life.”

  “Yeah…” Kyra rooted around for a way to break this news gently. “The thing is, Tristan’s an idealist. He always wants to do the right thing. Which is great, it’s a very noble quality. But the trouble is, his ideas sometimes outstrip his ability to do anything about them. You understand?”

  Kov nodded, a touch disconsolately. “I feared as much.”

  Kyra felt awkward. Damn Tris and his big mouth! That kid needs to learn some… what? Self control? Definitely! Pragmatism? For sure. But most of all, some basic goddamn duplicity.

  She smiled at Kov and put her hand on his shoulder, hoping to lessen the blow. “Look, we all want to help you, and if we can, we will. Lord Balentine here is a Warden, and he has
a lot of pull where we’re from. But at the end of the day, the Siszar still rule this sector of space. We’ve just managed to get out of a war that’s been crushing our people, and if we bring ships in here and try to retrieve you by force, we’ll be right back where we started.”

  Realising how callous that would sound to the person being abandoned, she added, “In truth, we’d never make it this far. We only managed it this time because a powerful Siszar female is protecting us. But there’s no way she’d go against her elders, not even to help us.”

  Kov nodded, but there was an air of defeat about him. “Then we will continue to rebuild our defences. The weapons you have provided will be put to good use in the next hunt.”

  And he walked away.

  Kyra cursed. Tact had never been her strong suit. But these people had such a bleak existence, they deserved to have at least some hope.

  And she’d pretty much driven a gunship through it.

  I am just spreading joy wherever I go tonight.

  So she gave up.

  The promised grog awaited her in the storehouse, and she was going to make Lukas drink until he puked. Food could wait; she was no longer in the mood to go making small-talk with the natives. She let her hair flare back into a brilliant rainbow, denoting the number of fucks she had left to give.

  Drinking to say goodbye. Even I can get that right.

  She had a feeling she wouldn’t be the only one drowning her sorrows tonight.

  She discovered the booze in homemade clay jars, stacked almost to the shed’s rafters. She pulled the wooden stopper out of one jar and took a sniff; the vapour that came out of it made her eyes sting. Yup, that’ll do the job.

  Figuring they wouldn’t need more than one jar apiece, she tucked a pair of them under one arm — then grabbed a spare, just in case.

  Leaving the village to its shell-shocked misery, she hiked the short distance back towards Nightshade.

  The main ramp was up, and she had too much stuff in her hands to palm the release, so she headed around the back. Sure enough, the cargo ramp was still lowered, the evidence of Lukas’s dinosaur still visible in a streak of nastiness that led off into the night.