Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  The male Siszar had torn through Demios’ soldiers in record time. Grabbing the glaive and extending its handle, Tris made ready to face them. Kreon had recovered his grav-staff from the body of a guard caught in the crossfire. He stood opposite Tris, preparing to meet the onslaught from that direction. The aliens formed a seething mass, all riled up from killing the soldiers, and they moved steadily in from every side.

  How is this fair? I killed Demios for these guys! Can’t they just be happy?

  From just outside the compound, the Empress replied. They are leaderless. They lack the presence of one strong enough to see off other challenges. Packs are usually dominated by an alpha male.

  What about you? he asked her. Can you dominate them?

  Not I, she said, with a faint whiff of amusement. I lack the appropriate appendage.

  But you’re powerful! Surely they’ll listen to you?

  I have only two uses for males, of which they would be well aware. But that is of no importance. It was not I that killed their alpha.

  What…? The mental image that accompanied her words left no doubt. Me?

  Are you not male?

  Well, I…

  Depends on what standard you use, Kyra chipped in.

  Kyra! Tris was so glad to hear from her that he let the insult slide. You’re okay!

  Shit yeah. Just because those guys had fancy new jets, didn’t mean they could fly worth a damn.

  Relief flooded Tris. Even though he was staring down a hundred hyper-aggressive aliens, suddenly it all seemed doable. The Empress was coming through the entrance now, her followers streaming in after her. Nightshade blasted past overhead, trailing smoke but with Kyra at the controls. Tris felt his back bump up against Kreon’s, and knew he had retreated far enough.

  The best defence is a good offence, he reminded himself. Though in fairness, whoever wrote that wasn’t facing an army of seven-foot tall alien starfish.

  It was remarkable how few Earth-based philosophies survived contact with the wider galaxy.

  Tris took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. There would be no room for weakness in what he was about to try.

  He took a long step forward, narrowly evading Ella as she reached out to grab his arm.

  If we’re going to keep doing this, she really needs a pendant.

  Planting the butt of his glaive on the ground, he struck the strongest pose he could. He let his gaze roam across the front rank of the approaching Siszar, and willed a Kreon-like edge of steel into his aura.

  Here goes nothing.

  Reaching for the Skein, he found the elusive thread alive and pulsing. So many Siszar clustered together, and so much sensory data to share… he recognised the Empress as she joined him. Her mind touched his, in such a way that he knew her understanding of his words would echo out across the network.

  Translator and amplifier all in one. I should patent you.

  You have an audience, she reminded him.

  And she was right.

  The adolescent Siszar had stopped approaching. Clever, not rash, they were aware of what had happened on the battlefield. If just one of them had witnessed Tris’ actions, they all had…

  And they were waiting for his next move.

  Brothers, he began. The Eldest of your race appointed me her champion. I have fulfilled my vow to her — I have slaughtered the Skinless One inside his own palace. Tris rapped the butt of his glaive on the ground for emphasis. I now claim lordship over all of you. He paused for a second, to let that sink in. The Skinless One was more powerful than any of you. And I am more powerful than him. If any amongst you dare to challenge me, come forward now!

  In a blur of motion, a Siszar in the front rank leapt towards him.

  It was a larger male, his colour closer to the dark green of fir trees; his gnarly scales bore the scars of battles hard-won.

  But Tris, still immersed in the Skein, had seen the flash of intent.

  His foot went back and his glaive swept up, both hands bracing the weapon. The Siszar hit the blade dead on, impaling himself, his weight driving it deep into his body. Tris knew he would never be able to hold onto the weapon, so he let go of the haft. The Siszar crashed to earth, inky fluid pulsing from his wound. Tris stepped closer, ignoring the flailing arms, and gripped the shaft of his glaive. He pulled it free, spun it in the air above his head, and then plunged it down again. This time it took the Siszar through the beak; his thrashing arms gave a final spasm, and went limp.

  Moving back to his first position, Tris took up his stance again. He shook the glaive to clean it, sending droplets of black ichor flying. His connection to the Skein remained undimmed.

  Anyone else? he asked.

  There was silence.

  Tris took that as a good sign. He let the peace stretch on for a few seconds, allowing the spellbound Siszar to make his point for him.

  Very well. I will offer you what the Skinless One could not. No more will you sit idle, hungry, squabbling for scraps. He has left you starving, but I will give you a feast beyond all feasts!

  Elation swept over Tris, the reflection of his audience. They seemed to like what he was saying.

  I am a champion! he roared. And I will lead you to the greatest battle this galaxy has ever known. You will not fight feeble humans, barely worth killing. We are travelling to the ancient Homeworld, where you will face the oldest and most powerful of your brethren! But their madness makes them weak. We will take their knowledge and their power, along with their lives. Together we will fight them, and we will devour them all!

  A savage joy built in Tris as he said the words, inciting him to ever more vivid imagery. Now he recognised it for what it was; the combined psyche of the surrounding Siszar, their natural blood-thirst swelling out of control. It was intoxicating, and Tris struggled against it for a moment.

  Some of the aliens were still killing; through his connection to the Skein, he saw images of carnage that could only be coming from inside the red-hulled cruiser. The death of Demios had inspired his new followers; they must have reacted faster than the ship’s crew, getting on board the giant vessel before anyone could lock it down.

  Tris grimaced. There were still hundreds of humans on that ship; anyone who didn’t manage to lock themselves in a broom closet was about to have a really bad day.

  Ah well. Not a whole hell of a lot I can do about that.

  You cannot kill a queen without eating her offspring, the Empress agreed.

  At least, Tris thought she was agreeing.

  A moment later she slouched up in person, piercing the mob of lesser Siszar like a shark through a school of fish. So tell me, grub! At what age did you learn to kill using just your mind?

  Umm… Tris had the irrational urge to check his watch. About ten minutes ago.

  Her delight smelled sharp, like too much chilli powder. And now you are the patriarch of thousands! Your development continues to impress me. If it carries on at this rate, you will become female in no time!

  Tris tried a few responses on for size, but in the end he settled for a polite Thank-you.

  Ella had come to stand next to Tris without him noticing. Now he looked around, finding her braced for combat with a slim sword in each hand.

  “Whew!” he said. “I think that worked.”

  Her forehead creased, in an expression he couldn’t remember seeing there before.

  Confusion!

  It was adorable.

  He put a thumb to her brow and smoothed out the wrinkles. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “It’s all good.”

  “Ohhhhkay…” her eyes flicked back to the roiling mass of Siszar, who were now flowing back over the crate-walls, presumably heading to their nestships. “Did we win?”

  “I guess that depends on your definition of win. I think I’ve just started a civil war.”

  “Oh!” she said, as understanding dawned on her. “That’s alright then. I’ve done that a bunch of times.”

  Tris laughed in spite of himself.


  The departing Siszar left the compound empty. Scores of immobilised loaders still littered the area, along with the remnants of Demios’ human army. Gazing around at the aftermath, Tris could hardly believe they’d pulled it off. Not only had he survived, but Ella had made it, and Kyra was landing Nightshade outside right at that moment.

  For the first time in a long time, he felt a ripple of optimism.

  Maybe we can do this. Hell, we took out Demios.

  Demios is gone? Kyra’s thoughts were tinged with disappointment.

  It suddenly occurred to Tris that, out of all of them, she’d suffered worst at the traitor’s hands.

  Yeah… sorry, Kyra. He got squished.

  Oh? Who squished him?

  Tris shied away from the answer. Let’s just say, it wasn’t pretty.

  Damn it! Now I really wish I’d seen it.

  It was impossible not to humour her. Scanning the dais, Tris took a good look at Demios’ body. The robotic armour kept him upright, and the view through his window was enough to make the strongest stomach turn.

  Wow. Kyra saw the images in Tris’ mind, and he felt her suppress her gag reflex. How the hell did that happen?

  He sighed. Long story.

  Her curiosity was drowned out by a sudden surge of interest from the Empress. If you’re not going to eat that…?

  It was Tris’ turn to feel queasy. He’s wearing armour, he pointed out. And then some.

  Ha! She sent him an image of her beak, followed by an image stripped directly from his memories… of a can opener.

  Tris stifled a chuckle. In that case… he waved at the body. Be my guest.

  As the Empress moved towards the dais, Tris noticed Ella staring at him. Not being in on the psychic conversations must be more than a little frustrating. “Kyra’s outside,” he told her. “We should probably go.”

  A tap on his shoulder made him turn.

  Kreon was behind him, holding something out.

  My pendant!

  “It appears you dropped this,” the Warden said, his tone dry. He pressed the gem into Tris’ outstretched palm, and his dark eyes glittered. “And now, I believe there are a few things that you may wish to tell me.”

  33

  As Nightshade lifted off, the sky above the breeding world was thick with nestships.

  Their mottled hulls in various colours swirled around one another like a shoal of tropical fish — only far more dangerous. The exuberance Tris had stirred up was already causing fights to break out, as the smaller groups re-established their pecking order.

  It was a mind-blowing sight, though.

  Tris, sitting behind Kreon, was glued to the exterior displays. Ella was seated opposite him, behind Kyra; he caught her looking at him, with a slightly incredulous look on her face.

  He wasn’t looking forward to the ‘explaining’ part.

  None of them had taken the time to count their new allies. With only the vaguest guess of what lay in wait for them, it hardly mattered. What did count was their lust for combat, a sentiment that would be mostly absent in a human army. There weren’t many advantages to having such bloodthirsty neighbours, and Tris was secretly quite proud of how well it had worked out.

  Siszar killing Siszar… ethically, it was a less than ideal solution. But as Kyra had so eloquently pointed out when he’d raised this issue, ‘It’s the end of the world, Tris. Who gives a shit?’

  It was a tough one to argue against.

  They parted from the Empress as soon as they hit orbit.

  Be swift, she warned Tris. I cannot hold them there for long.

  Do you actually think they’ll go? he shot back.

  All will leave this place. Not all will arrive at the homeworld. Even amongst my people, there are some who seek an easier path.

  Tris snorted at the concept of a cowardly Siszar. At this point, I can’t say I blame them. He looked out of Nightshade’s viewscreen, picking out the bulbous form of her nestship alongside them. Be safe, he told her. And… if they get the urge to start without us, I won’t be offended.

  In a waft of humour-stink, she flickered away.

  A few moments later, Kyra announced that their own grav-drive was spooled up. She’d purposefully waited until the bulk of the Siszar ships had vanished — there was no need to risk leading them back to the Folly.

  As starlight bent around them, and the weird kaleidoscope of gravity distortion surrounded the ship, Tris finally allowed himself to relax.

  We did it.

  Fishing out his pendant, he tied an ugly knot in its chain. He slipped it on over his head, and tried to reach Kyra’s mind.

  Nothing. This must be how she felt, trying to get through to me before we met the Empress.

  The awakening of Tris’ Gift had been traumatic, but he was incredibly grateful for it.

  Otherwise, we’d all have become grease stains long ago.

  And as for his newer talents… he shuddered. Can’t see Kyra wanting me to practice that.

  Then again… she did have a disturbing knack for pushing his buttons.

  What are the odds that within a day of telling her, I’ll find smiley faces drawn on fruit as part of my ‘training’.

  They found the Folly exactly as they’d left it, which was another weight off Tris’ mind.

  Askarra welcomed them all home, her electronic monotone failing miserably to hide her excitement.

  “You have managed to remove Demios from the equation for no loss,” she chimed, “and recruit his entire army to bolster our own resources. I would consider that a cause for celebration.”

  “Yeah, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tris pointed out. “For our next trick we’re going to invade a planet full of psychotically deranged Siszar, then take a trip through a Portal to be munched on by an inter-dimensional entity the size of a solar system. So you know, don’t break out the champagne just yet.”

  Kyra fixed Tris with a frown. “Seriously? What’s wrong with you? If we’re all going to die tomorrow, I’m getting drunk tonight.”

  The doors slid open and Lukas walked into the docking bay, a wide bandage wrapped around his chest. Seeing it gave Tris a flashback to when he’d woken up wearing a similar thing, after being shot in the chest.

  Lukas hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on over his injury, but that was hardly surprising. Lukas and shirts were like Clark Kent and Superman.

  “Hey Lukas,” Kyra called, before the big man had chance to say hello. “Certain-death mission. When do you celebrate — before, or after?”

  Lukas made a face at her. “Duh! Both.”

  She turned to Tris. “See? You’ve gotta learn to trust me.”

  “Trust you, okay,” he retaliated. “So tell me, what is your real name?”

  Kyra just rolled her eyes at him. “Kids these days! They’re never satisfied.”

  Tris was groping for a witty comeback when a chime from Askarra interrupted their banter. “Lord Anakreon, your presence is requested on the bridge,” she announced. “Lord Balentine has just received a call from High Warden Oktavius.”

  “Ugh.” Kreon looked up at the ceiling. “What does he want now?”

  “He reports that the Black Ships have been sighted in the vicinity of Earth.”

  There was a moment when Tris could have heard a pin drop in the cavernous docking bay. Then as one, they sprinted for the exit.

  Balentine was waiting for them on the bridge. Oktavius’ face already filled the main viewscreen; tension and stress showed in every line and wrinkle. He started talking as soon as Kreon entered holo-range.

  “It’s happening, Kreon. Two sightings; one just outside the solar system, and one coming close to Jupiter. I’ve relocated all telepaths back to Atalia, as per your recommendation, and sent ships in to challenge both manifestations. So far, nothing we’ve tried has made the slightest difference. I’ve got a standing call out to every Warden we have left — hopefully one of them will have some exotic technology we can employ. But damnit, Kre
on! Most of that stuff got wiped out in the war with Demios. We thought that was our desperate fight for survival. But now…” he shook his head. “I don’t think we can stop it. If it reaches Earth, and we don’t have any more success…”

  He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

  The atmosphere on the bridge turned grim.

  “There is still time,” Kreon said, his voice little more than a growl. “I believe that this entity is blind. Or rather, the organs it uses to ‘see’ are still trapped, along with the rest of its bulk, in its own dimension. That is why it gropes towards the Portal, feeling for the tear the way a tongue feels for an ulcer.” He broke off, running a hand over his scalp. “We are working on a scheme, Oktavius, I promise you. But it is tenuous at best. If we do not survive, I will have our ship rendezvous with you near Atalia. I will grant you access to the information we have amassed, in the hope you will discover a better alternative to inform your defence.”

  The High Warden’s stare was intense. “And what? Just accept the loss of Earth?”

  “If this creature attacks Earth, that loss will be assured. Regardless of whether you choose to accept it.”

  Oktavius looked crestfallen. “So you have no more hope to offer me? Beyond this desperate scheme that you refuse to share?”

  Tris, who’d been lingering in the background, couldn’t stand to see him so despondent. “We’re going to invade the monster’s own dimension!” he blurted out, coming to stand beside Kreon and Balentine. “We’re going to hunt it down, and when we find it, we’re going to drop a bomb on it.”

  On the screen, Oktavius’ jaw sagged open. His eyes flicked back and forth between Tris and Kreon, as though not sure which of them to believe. “Very well,” he said at last. “Strength of Atlas be upon you.”

  And he cut the transmission without waiting for an answer.