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  WARDEN’S FATE

  by Tony James Slater

  Copyright © Tony James Slater 2020

  This edition published 2020 by Various Things (ADT)

  Tony James Slater has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, or licensed in any way except when specifically permitted in writing by the publishers. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Dramatis Personae

  Lord Anakreon (Kreon): Warden of the First Circle, and one of the oldest and most powerful surviving members of the order. Three centuries old, bald, semi-mechanical, and often bad-tempered, he is an expert xeno-archaeologist. He collects odd pieces of alien technology and uses them in his struggle to bring stability and justice to a galaxy on the brink of chaos.

  Lady Serafine (Sera): Former Warden of Earth; responsible for the planet’s security and protection, until her recent attempt to wipe out the human population. Mother of Àurea and once married to Kreon — Sera was killed in action during the invasion of Helicon Prime.

  Àurea Herensuge: The long-lost daughter of Kreon and Sera, Àurea was believed killed on her first mission as an apprentice Warden. Saved and nursed back to health by the leader of the Ingumend Resistance, she eventually became his protégé and lover. To him she bore a daughter, Ana, the granddaughter of Kreon and Sera. Following Ingumen’s death she replaced him as leader of the resistance against the Lemurian Church. Àurea’s face is badly scarred; she wears a half-face mask to conceal it.

  Tristan Andrews (Tris): A young man from modern-day Earth, Tris had no idea humans had spread out into our galaxy thousands of years ago. Abducted from Earth by Kreon and coerced into becoming the Warden’s new apprentice, Tris was amazed to discover his telepathic ‘Gift’. Also a surprisingly good fighter with the deadly glaive he inherited from his father, Tris has an athletic build and short brown hair. All these traits are also inherited, as he was illegally cloned from his father’s DNA.

  Kylimnestra Loreak (Kyra): A mercenary on the run from her homeworld, Kyra is a veteran warrior and a master of the ancient Arranozapar sword-form of her people. Also strongly Gifted, Kyra has taken on Tristan’s training in all things — mostly, however, she loves to mess with his head. She is tall and muscular, with a strong predilection for shopping, and her trademark rainbow hair can change colour on a whim.

  Eleanor Fitzgerald (Ella): A White Priestess and assassin of the highest order, Ella is a slender, pale-skinned redhead. Skilled in all forms of combat, explosives, manipulation and seduction, Ella has been genetically modified and enhanced to be utterly lethal. Currently wanted by the Priesthood for turning on her employer, she has found herself drawn to Tristan’s honesty and naiveté. She is now his lover, though not an official part of the Warden’s crew.

  Evelyn Fitzgerald (Evie): Ella’s twin sister Evie is also a White Priestess, having graduated in second place in her class behind her sister. Still employed by the Priesthood and under contract to the disgraced Warden Demios, she is currently roaming the galaxy with an agenda of her own.

  Loader: A talos (animated machine), Loader is an artificial sentience — highly illegal by current standards, though his existence predates them by untold millennia. Named after the type of machine he inhabited until its destruction by Sera, his Sentience Containment Unit has recently been transferred into an indestructible crystalline body fabricated eons ago by members of the species he once belong to.

  Askarra: An Artificial Intelligence program based on the memories of Tristan’s mother, Askarra is permanently ensconced in the computer of a Sanctuary-class battle station named the Folly. The formidable vessel was the equal of an entire fleet, but has recently suffered extensive damage. The Ingumend resistance fighters upgraded the Folly with one vast laser cannon, designed to hunt identical battle stations employed by the oppressive Lemurian Church.

  Lord Oktavius: High Warden following the murder of his predecessor, Oktavius is a strict traditionalist. He believes in the protection of Earth at all costs, and is dedicated to the Wardens.

  Sharki: Captain of the Marauders mercenary band, Sharki is Kyra’s ex-boss and her on-off lover. In Sera’s absence, he is currently helping with the defence of Earth.

  Lukas: A Lemurian combat medic, doctor and surgeon, Lukas fled to join the Ingumend resistance — where he became a babysitter for Àurea’s daughter, Ana.

  Demios: Former Warden of the First Circle, Demios is rich, arrogant, and a cunning tactician. He was responsible for the murder of the previous High Warden, and is currently wanted for his many crimes.

  The Story So far…

  The galaxy is on the brink of destruction. A terrible enemy, known only as the Black Ships, is wiping out entire planets seemingly at random.

  Seeking a way to combat this foe, Lord Anakreon and his crew ventured into Lemurian space. There they came into conflict with the Church, a brutal regime controlling every facet of Lemurian civilisation. Captured by a ruthless psychic interrogator, they escaped to join the resistance — discovering in the process Kreon’s daughter Àurea, who was believed long dead.

  Saved from execution by the disgraced Earth Warden Lady Serafine, Kreon and his crew prepared for an all-out assault against the central planet of the Church, and their temple stronghold.

  The battle for Helicon Prime was hard-fought, but the Ingumend resistance movement, led by Kreon and Àurea, emerged triumphant.

  At great cost…

  1

  Lady Serafine lay on the table, her eyes staring sightlessly up into nothing.

  Tristan gazed down at her, trying to reconcile the mangled body with the beautiful, powerful warrior he’d known.

  Sera had been many things in life.

  Earth Warden.

  War hero.

  Murderess.

  And traitor.

  Now she was a fallen angel, her death both tragedy and atonement in equal measures.

  In the short time Tris had known her, she’d morphed from a trusted ally into a terrifying opponent – and almost all the way back again. But not quite; even after finding her long-lost daughter, Sera had remained driven by anger and revenge.

  Tris hoped she was finally at peace.

  There was, however, no denying the violence of her passing.

  The massive suit of armour which still enclosed her body had been torn apart. Claws, blades, fire… the metal was gouged and blackened, split and pierced in a dozen locations.

  It was a stark reminder of the risks they ran. Any one of the people arrayed around the table could just as easily have been on it. Kyra, her rainbow hair dulled to mark the occasion; Kreon, the surly Warden shrouded in his tattered black trench coat; Sera’s daughter Àurea, the disfigured half of her face hidden beneath a steel mask — and him, the raw apprentice, little more than an ignorant kid fresh from Earth.

  This was the fate that awaited them all, eventually.

  Kreon had made it clear that very few Wardens survived to retirement age.

  A muffled crash from the main entrance served to underscore the poi
nt. Tris wasn’t sure at what point they’d lost control — or if they’d ever really been in control — but the seething cauldron of rage outside had reached the melting point, and they were in danger of being swept away by it.

  Never enough time, he cursed, glancing at the massive bronze doors. They were holding… for now. Over six metres high, the green-tinged metal trembled visibly in time to the slamming of something heavy against the far side. For a population that had virtually no access to weapons, the citizens of Helicon Prime were doing an impressive job of destroying everything they could reach.

  Tris was pretty pissed off that they weren’t more grateful. Then again, the murderous regime he’d helped to topple had kept their people living in abject terror. It was hardly surprising that, suddenly freed from the constraints of the Church, they felt the urge to smash things.

  The wrecked spaceship outside had been their first target.

  Tris and the others had barely made it back inside the temple, and they were holding this impromptu ceremony in the middle of the lobby. Grotesque statues flanked them, gazing down maliciously; there hadn’t been time to seek a more appropriate venue. Similarly, the makeshift bier was a large wooden desk dragged in from the nearest chamber. With the flagstone floor vibrating to the din of distant explosions, it was the best they could do.

  He didn’t think Sera would have cared.

  She’d never seemed like the sentimental type.

  Opposite Tris stood the forbidding figure of Lord Anakreon, Warden of the First Circle, his eyes closed in private pain. The Warden’s posture was stooped, his scarred face downcast. Despair was etched in every line of his being.

  It was hardly surprising. The woman they were laying to rest was his wife.

  Tris wanted to kick himself.

  Since the first time he’d seen them together, the two Wardens had been locked in combat — at first verbal sparring, developing later on into full-blown warfare. But only recently had he come to appreciate the subtle interplay of emotion between the couple.

  Living with each other must have been impossible, because they both cared too much. Unspoken, undemonstrated… through heartache and hatred, still their love for each other had endured.

  Until now.

  Tris didn’t know how he felt for himself, but on Kreon’s behalf he was crushed.

  Standing next to the old Warden, tears streaming down her one exposed cheek, was his daughter. Àurea’s love for her mother was perhaps less complicated than her father’s; a pure thing, carefully hoarded since childhood and unsullied by the troubles of intervening years. She hadn’t stopped crying since Sera’s body had been carried from the wreckage of their ship. It was fair to say, she was devastated.

  That left tall, muscular Kyra as the token stoic, the only dry eyes in the house. Well, except for Ella; Tristan’s assassin-girlfriend lingered in the shadow of the doors, readying herself to defend them if anyone came through them. Her relationship with Sera had been something of a rollercoaster, reflecting Tris’ own experiences. In fact, as he came to think about it, Àurea was the only person in the room that Sera hadn’t tried to kill at some point.

  Àurea was the one she’d given her life to save.

  Was that act enough to redeem her? To excuse the litany of pain and death she’d unleashed during her brief reign of madness?

  Tris couldn’t begin to untangle that.

  But whatever she had been in life, no-one deserved to die like this.

  He forced himself to stand still, ignoring the groans of distress from the doors.

  He owed her that much.

  Another heavy blow brought a rain of dust from the vaulted ceiling. Tris ignored it, refocusing on the body, trying to make sense of the jumbled emotions warring within him.

  She looked so calm now that it was all over.

  His vision blurred, memories swimming in to superimpose themselves. For a moment he stared down at another face, one achingly familiar and heartbreakingly beautiful. So young and fragile, her copper skin so smooth, her long black hair silky in his hands… The infectious smile, the suggestive look in her eyes… it was all gone. He’d loved this woman to a fault, and had done everything in his power to protect her. All for nothing. Years of hiding, of sleeping with one eye open, of constant watchfulness… and they’d found him anyway. Found her. And he would never see that smile again. Hate welled up inside him, so sudden he choked on it. He would kill them all. Every last one of them would die screaming for this, even if it cost him his—

  No. He swallowed the anger, clamping down on it. He couldn’t think like this.

  Not now.

  He had a son…

  Tristan, your mind is wandering.

  The psychic intrusion snapped Tris back to the present. Loader stood beside him, a vaguely humanoid shape carved from a huge chunk of blue gemstone. The talos wasn’t exactly light on his feet, yet Tris hadn’t heard him come in. What the hell is happening to me?

  I was about to ask you the same question.

  Tris still wasn’t used to communicating with Loader this way. Until recently, that translucent blue form had housed a far more malevolent identity. The discovery that Loader’s new body was psychic had come as quite a surprise.

  Tris blinked away the last traces of the vision. I think I’m having memories… only, they’re not mine.

  A stalk-like protrusion on the gleaming crystalline torso swivelled to point at him, revealing a cluster of sensors in its tip. I was not aware that you possessed such a talent.

  I don’t. I put my dad’s memory engram into my head.

  Ah. Loader’s monotone drawl somehow managed to sound disapproving. Was that wise?

  Tris groped around for an answer, but Kyra beat him to it.

  It was very nearly the dumbest thing he’s done all week. Then again, he’s also sleeping with an assassin who was hired to kill him, so it’s hard to say. Now if you girls have finished gossiping, we’re about done here.

  Sorry, Tris fired back, injecting the appropriate degree of solemnity.

  Don’t be sorry, Kyra chided. Just go find me a cheeseburger.

  By supreme effort of will, he stifled a chuckle. Now? Or do you want to wait until after Sera’s interred?

  Don’t be sarcastic! Death makes me hungry.

  Tris was still constructing his reply when another mind lapped up against his, barging into their conversation; a vast and powerful mind, cold, ancient, and very, very alien. And yet you do not consume the fallen… such a waste.

  Tris shuddered at the mental image projected by The Empress of the River of Silver Flashes. The enormous Siszar was drifting above the temple in her nestship, keeping watch over the situation from above. She’d only met Sera once, and hadn’t felt the need for a sentimental goodbye.

  Kyra responded first. You shouldn’t eat Wardens. You never know where they’ve been.

  A rotting stench assailed Tris’ nostrils, but it was all in his head — the Empress, communicating her species’ version of laughter. He closed his mind to it, offering one last moment of respect to his fallen comrade. For all that Sera had once held him prisoner, threatened him with torture, and tried to murder the woman he loved, she’d died fighting on the right side.

  And she’d saved his life on at least one occasion.

  “You were one of us, Sera,” he said, startling himself with the sound of his own voice.

  All eyes flicked to him at the unexpected outburst. Then Kreon seemed to rouse himself. “Be at peace, my love,” he whispered. He reached out to brush a fingertip against her armoured wrist.

  And with a click, a tiny hatch sprang open in her gauntlet.

  A glimmer of light appeared above it, coalescing into a miniature hologram of Sera’s head and shoulders. “Still alive, old man?” The voice was unmistakably her, complete with the sardonic edge it always had when she spoke to him. The holo even faced Kreon, on her left hand side, as though she’d known he would stand there. “I can’t say I’m surprised. They always
said you were impossible to kill.” The hologram smiled, all mockery vanishing from her face. “I hope you stay that way.” She looked down, and produced something which she waved in front of her face. “I’m leaving you this because you’re the only one I trust. I know you’ll do… the right thing.” She took a breath, then blew it out. “So I guess this is it.” She ran a gloved hand through her hair. “Look after yourself, old man. I’ll miss you. Safe travels.”

  And she was gone.

  Kreon’s face had turned ashen, the tracks of fresh tears glistening on his cheeks. But he fished inside the hatch with a finger, liberating a plain sliver of metal the size of a credit card. He held it up, his brow furrowed as he turned it over in his fingers.

  Tris couldn’t help himself. “What is it?”

  Kreon continued to stare at the object as though entranced. “A key,” he said finally, tilting it so it caught the light.

  “To what?” Tris breathed. “Do you know?”

  “Indeed. Because it is identical to my own. This is the master key to Sera’s vault on Atalia.”

  ***

  They made it to the nearest elevator just as the great doors began to give. An entourage of small wheeled robots bore the table with Sera’s body; the AI that controlled the temple complex was doing all it could to help, as though hoping to atone for centuries of oppression. With access to the elevators restricted, Kreon seemed to think they had a decent head-start on the angry mob below. Instead of leading them straight to the roof, where their decrepit shuttles were parked, he found a chamber with tall windows overlooking the plaza at the front of the temple. The crowd that had swelled around the entrance was gone; presumably they’d forced their way in, and were now busy ransacking the lower levels.