Kreon gazed at the screen for a few seconds, then turned to Tris with a pained look on his face. “I get the distinct impression,” he said, “that he would prefer not to have known.”
Lord Balentine sat down heavily in the command chair. His once-white surcoat, now dark with alien blood, added to his air of weariness. “It’s really happening.” He rubbed his face, as though it would help him deal with the situation. “I told him you’d finished off Demios, but I didn’t have many details to share.”
“Oktavius has greater concerns for the time being,” Kreon said.
Balentine nodded, looking too stunned to speak.
“There’s still a chance,” Tris said. “I’m going to use the Skein to get us to the Siszar homeworld. I think it’s less than a day away. If we enter the Portal as soon as we get there…”
“No.” Ella put a hand on his arm. She so rarely spoke on the bridge that everyone turned to look at her. “The last time you flew like that, you didn’t move or eat for days.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tris promised. “It’s only a short hop.” He smiled to forestall an argument. “Hey, you can bring me dinner.”
Ella didn’t look convinced, but she stepped back and headed for the elevator.
“I will examine the Planet Forge,” Kreon said, “and undertake whatever preparations may be required. Lord Balentine, if you will assist me?”
Balentine gathered himself, and stood up. Fresh determination was in his eyes — but not hope.
Kyra cracked her knuckles loud enough to echo. “And I’m going to scrub this shit off my armour and add some more sparkles. If we’re fighting to the death, I’m gonna look awesome while I do it.” She released her hair from its business-like ponytail, and the black and red stripes became a vibrant rainbow. “Then I’m going down to the stores, and I’m gonna arm myself to the fucking teeth.”
That got nods of approval all around.
“What about me?” Lukas asked, tapping his muscular chest just above the bandage. “What do you want me to do?”
Kyra glanced at him, as though she’d only just noticed he was there. “Just put a goddamn shirt on!”
***
Tris had been joking about the dinner, but when Ella showed up with a tray from the mess hall, he found his stomach grumbling in anticipation. The Folly was now underway, her vast grav-drives compressing space-time ahead of them and paying it out behind. The bubble they travelled in was completely insulated from the outside universe — except to the Gift. Tris sat in the command chair, tracing the Skein with his mind and making microscopic adjustments to their course on the console in front of him. It was his dad’s memories that allowed him to fly the ship, he now knew. Previously, at times of great stress, the chip in his head seemed to take over, firing reflexes that he’d never possessed. But Ella’s guidance — and the illicit technology she had access to — had given him far greater control. Accessing his dad’s memories wasn’t like accessing his own, but with focus, concentration and calm, he could do it.
And nothing made him calm like the psychic pulsing of the Skein. Its glistening, mysterious, intangible nature begged him to explore it…
Addiction.
It wasn’t hard to self-diagnose, but it was a relatively minor problem; more like a symptom of a far more serious issue. At times, Tris thought he could almost feel his genetic legacy twisting inside him. He was definitely changing. Killing a man with my mind? Crushing his head like it was nothing… Yet another entry in his laundry-list of atrocities. Maybe the galaxy is better off without me.
He wasn’t sure which of the others had figured it out, but this mission was a one-way trip — at least for him. None of them had mentioned it, but it played endlessly in the back of his mind, and had done for some time now. And yet… he was finally starting to make peace with it. One life for many — that was a good deal at the best of times. When it was his life on the scales — an illegal, mutating, murderous, failed experiment in genetics — there really was no contest at all.
It’s for the best. It always was.
Perspective was much easier to achieve with the brilliance of the Skein enveloping his thoughts.
He longed to let his mind loose, to roam free in that incandescent glow…
But he had a feeling there would be no coming back from that.
And he still had a job to do.
So he resisted, at least for now.
Eating helped to keep him grounded, though the meal Ella provided turned out to be a pair of fancy ration bars each.
“Sorry, I’m not much of a cook,” she explained.
“S’all good. Disembowelling soldiers is a much more useful skill.”
She brightened. “I always thought so.”
She perched on his knee and opened her own bar, taking small bites and chewing them thoroughly. “These are from the Priestesses’ stash,” she said. “They’ll boost your strength, energy and endurance.”
“Wow, like Red Bull for assassins? What’s in them?”
She shook her head minutely. “You don’t want to know.”
“Huh. Sounds exactly like Red Bull then.”
She leaned back against him, her delicate frame pressing him into the chair. He nestled his cheek into a tangle of auburn curls.
“So, you killed Demios with your mind,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah… It was bad. So bad. I’m… I don’t even know what I am anymore. Broken.”
She squirmed a bit on his lap, a delicious feeling which sent tingles throughout him. “That’s a shame. It would have come in handy in my line of work.”
“Ella! Have you any idea how wrong it feels, to crush a man’s head?”
“Not with my mind, no.”
Tris just managed to stop himself from asking a question he didn’t want the answer to. “You think we can win this?” he said instead.
“I think you need to be careful,” she replied. “Kreon—”
“Kreon will do what Kreon does best,” Tris interrupted her. “The galaxy comes first, remember? He’s been preparing me for this for a long time.”
Her slender hands found his, and squeezed them hard. “I’m scared, Tris.”
He nuzzled into her hair. “Me too.”
***
This time, Tris took the Folly right into orbit around their target planet. Time had beaten them, and desperate measures were called for. Askarra had gleaned her role in things from previous conversations, but Tris took a few moments to make it official. “If we don’t come back,” he told the hologram, “take these people to Atalia. Lord Balentine will stay with you, and hopefully he’ll convince Oktavius, or whoever’s left by then, to come back and collect the people on the breeding worlds.”
It was such a far-fetched plan that he felt daft saying it, but he was well aware of how badly the odds were stacked against them.
“Please come back to me,” the hologram pleaded, not trying to disguise the emotion in her voice. “I can’t lose you as well.”
He gave her his cheeriest grin. “I’ll try my best. I promise.”
“I’ll keep him alive as long as I can,” Ella added. She hadn’t left his side during the journey, and was still clad in her tooled-up bodysuit.
“Thank-you, Eleanor.” The hologram inclined her head. “I want you to know, you have my blessing — I have suspended monitoring protocols in both your quarters, effective immediately.”
“Immediately?” Tris spluttered. “But what… oh, man!”
The hologram faded, leaving Tris and Ella to exchange mortified looks.
“Well, that was awkward,” he said.
“She was an assassin too,” Ella pointed out, linking her arm with his for the walk to the elevator. “Something you’ll have to learn about us, Tris. We lie.”
They reached the docking bay, where the rest of the team was due to assemble.
Tris’ eyes went first to the Planet Forge. The alien device looked like a dull metal egg, but big enough to fit a
person inside. Its dark grey surface had an odd sheen about it, as though it was permanently wet. Narrow bands of the same stuff, carved with flowing lines that looked like writing, wrapped the thing. It was the first honest-to-God piece of alien technology Tris had ever seen, and it had caused more than enough trouble since then.
And maybe — just maybe — it was worth it.
Kreon stood next to the Planet Forge, scowling at a pair of handles he must have welded onto it. Tris winced. Given the device’s ability to recycle entire planets, Tris would probably not have taken a blowtorch to it.
Standing patiently beside Kreon was Lord Balentine. Tris hadn’t expected to see the old Warden wearing a suit of heavy armour similar to his own. “You’re coming with us?” he asked, trying not to sound surprised.
Balentine lifted a rifle that dangled from a sling around his neck. “I wasn’t always a librarian, Tris.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ve left orders with the Vanguard’s command staff,” Balentine added. “If we fail, they are more than capable of getting their people home.”
Lukas was next to arrive, clad in a full suit of powered armour that whirred when he moved. It was impressive, if filthy, and Tris wondered where the hell he’d been keeping it.
“Are you fit to fight?” Tris asked him.
Lukas thumped his breastplate with a metal gauntlet, making it ring. “I’m fit! Only at half strength, though. So maybe, three or four times as strong as you?”
“Nice. Shame we can’t give your ego a weapon.”
Kyra strode in last. Her environment suit split the difference between flexibility and protection. It was also gloriously glittered, and hot, hot pink. “Look with your eyes, people,” she announced as she entered. “The paint’s still wet.”
“Hey, not bad,” Lukas murmured.
“Ugh!” Kyra made a face at him. “You’re wearing that?”
Lukas looked mildly offended. “I fight pretty good in this.”
Kyra stepped up to him, plucked something slimy from his shoulder, and flicked it onto the deck. “Yeah, but you smell like the inside of a dead dinosaur.”
Lukas looked at Tris, and spread his arms in protest. “Women,” he said with feeling.
Kyra took Nightshade’s controls, and guided them out into space.
Even though he’d seen the displays on the Folly’s bridge, Tris still couldn’t believe his eyes. An insane number of nestships thronged the area, swirling around each other in a confusion of colour.
Your pack awaits their leader, the Empress informed him, as they swung wide to skirt a cluster of pale blue ships.
I’m here, he pointed out. Let’s go!
Would you like to address them?
Tris sighed. Nervous tension was building in him already, and he needed to keep his mind in the game. Not really, he admitted. But I will.
He reached for the Skein, revelling in its luxurious embrace. Brothers! he started. I promised you a fight, and I promised you a feast. The greatest of both that you have ever experienced! So follow me now, to the planet below. This is your reward. Kill everything you see, and eat everything you kill!
He forced himself to release the Skein, though it was far more reluctant to let him go.
Finding himself back in his body, he patted himself down for good measure. How did I do? he asked the Empress.
You really are wasted on humanity, she told him. If I fall in this battle, I would be honoured for you to consume my flesh.
The ships around them had become more agitated, racing faster and faster as they twined through each other. Then, like birds flocking, they all twisted towards the surface and began to dive.
Nightshade dove with them, her sleek form cutting into the last vestige of atmosphere with barely a judder.
Tris knew from the Empress that they were directly above the Portal, and as they roared down he spotted a tiny black bead on the landscape below. “That’s it.”
Kyra didn’t bother asking how he knew; she had her own connection to the Empress.
He wondered if the topic of being eaten came up much.
As the ground swelled, and details became easier to make out, Tris squinted at the tiny black edifice and the ground around it.
Below them was a barren, rocky plateau that must once have protruded from the surrounding oceans. Only now, those oceans were nowhere in sight. He’d been hoping that the majority of the Siszar survivors would be prowling the last pockets of water, perhaps deep underground, miles from the Portal. He’d been hoping that their little team could slip in quick, while the young male Siszar kept their larger brethren occupied. But what he saw now threw all that hope straight out of the window.
Because the Portal plateau was crawling with movement. As Nightshade dropped closer, he could make out an endless horde of Siszar stretching to the horizon.
What the hell? They’re… congregating! Actually coming from all over to this one damn spot!
They are drawn to its call, the Empress explained. Do you not feel it? Even now, with the taint long faded, I can feel the madness calling to me.
Fight it! Tris begged her.
Fear not, little grub. My desire to kill is even stronger.
It wasn’t the most comforting answer he could have got, but he was used to that.
“What’s our play here?” Kyra asked, throttling back. “I’m gonna need an answer real soon.”
“I will bear the box,” said Balentine. “You only need to clear the way.”
Lukas, seated back in the crew lounge, waved a gauntlet. “Count me in. Dunno how useful I’ll be if it comes to a knife-fight, but I’ll be damned if I can’t carry a box.”
“Very well,” Kreon said, his voice like coffin nails. “We go in. Tris, Kyra and I will carve a path. It is imperative that the Planet Forge reach the Portal.” He took the Kharash pendant from around his neck, dropping it into a niche by his console.
Tris felt the Warden’s minuscule Gift vanish, extinguished like a candle flame.
Compared to mine, which is burning like a star. Burning too hot. I reckon it would consume me, eventually… not that it will get the chance.
Tris’ eyes flicked to Ella, strapped in next to Lukas. Kreon hadn’t mentioned her role, but it wasn’t hard to guess what her plan was.
Keep me alive… He glanced back at the monitors. Yeah. Good luck with that. But he shot her an encouraging smile all the same.
Tapping the compartment in his armour where his own pendant was stored, he did his best to still his trembling hands.
This is it, Dad. This is what you made me for. I hope I live up to the brochures.
“Here we go,” Kyra called back. “You might want to hang on to something.”
Kreon hunched over his tactical display, studying the shapes it painted below them. “Clear an area around the Portal,” he instructed, “and land us as close as possible.”
“Since you asked so nicely…” Kyra levelled them off, and swung wide to get a better approach angle. Looking over her shoulder, Tris saw her flip the control toggles to weapons hot. “Hope you guys wore boots,” she called back, “‘cause it’s about get messy out there.”
And all around them, nestships beyond counting plunged groundwards.
34
With the flick of a wrist, Kyra sent a trio of micro-missiles rocketing into the crowd. Fireballs blossomed and columns of smoke rose skyward, as she threaded Nightshade in between them. Banking hard, she made a second pass over the landing zone. Another pair of missiles streaked out, obliterating huge chunks of the landscape. “I can’t hurt that thing can I?” she nodded towards the Portal.
“It has survived for tens of thousands of years,” Kreon pointed out. “So probably not. However, if you do demolish it, all life in the galaxy will be extinguished. I would advise a modicum of caution.”
“No more missiles. Got it.”
She brought them down, wingtip blasters spitting, so close to the Portal that Tris reckoned he could prob
ably jump through it from the roof.
Before she let the landing skids touch the ground she turned a complete circle, ruthlessly mowing down anything that came close. The result was a wide ring of scorched earth, inside which nothing moved.
“That ought to do it.” There was satisfaction in her tone; Tris figured she’d earned it.
The cargo bay ramp started descending before he was even unstrapped. Lukas was first up, betraying all that experience he didn’t talk about. The filthy armour made him an even bigger target; luckily, the Siszar wouldn’t be trying to aim at him.
Tris snapped his helmet seals as he moved through the shuttle. Like Kyra, he always waited until the last minute to put it on. He had the biggest rifle he knew how to use, and he ran down the ramp with it cradled ready to fire.
The scene that greeted him outside the ship was carnage.
The craters of Kyra’s fireballs still smouldered, broken and blackened bodies littering the ground within them. The same was true of the surrounding area, where Nightshade’s cannons had made short work of the enraged Siszar. The path to the Portal was temporarily clear; great clouds of thick black smoke billowed upwards, obscuring the battlefield beyond.
The noise, however, left little to the imagination.
It was immense; a roaring, screeching, howling cacophony of violence and bloodshed.
Nestships still plunged from the sky, their occupants flinging themselves into the fray.
Tris knew the Empress was already engaged; he caught a flash of savage excitement from her, as she bit down with her beak and blood sprayed. Her presence was drawing the enraged Siszar, but the Portal itself seemed to act like a beacon to them.
As Tris watched, two young males leapt from their ships. They were quickly torn apart by the frenzied mob, which roiled and churned around their bodies.
“Our time is limited,” Kreon said, coming down the ramp behind him. “Establish a perimeter! We must keep them away from the Portal. Bring the Agorregimundu!”
Warden's Fate Page 41
