Warden's Vengeance Page 11

  He emerged to see Sera and Àurea doing the same. Their guide, accomplice and getaway driver, Miren, was waiting for them by the ramp. “Scanned twice on the way in,” she said, a smug expression on her face. “Someone is excited I’m here.”

  Kreon’s danger sense screeched a warning. “Is this something you were expecting?”

  “No.” She shrugged. “But security’s picked up everywhere since the uprising. No biggie.”

  Kreon fastened his staff to his back, adjusting it so it hung low, rather than sticking up between his shoulders. It gave him a little extra down below — hopefully no-one would be checking there.

  Àurea had her exotic chain weapons looped around her waist; Sera didn’t appear to be armed, but Kreon knew well enough that she was full of surprises.

  The ramp lowered, revealing a small, unremarkable docking bay. One other shuttle was present, a fast, partially armoured scout model. If that was Gerian’s personal craft, no doubt it would be heavily upgraded. The lethal-looking Spectre assault fighter resting next to it was proof of the man’s taste in ships.

  Miren sauntered through the docking bay, approaching a human-sized door. Lights came on overhead as she moved, and the doorway lit up as she reached it.

  Kreon hung back, allowing the others to get in front of him. Whilst he was painfully aware of how vulnerable they were, the women stood a far better chance of perpetrating this ruse. Keeping his distance would be the wiser course of action.

  The door slid upwards, vanishing into the ceiling. Beyond it stood a guard; although fully armoured in smooth black plates, the visor on his helmet was up and his rifle remained slung across his back.

  “Miren, is that you?” The guard whistled. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

  “What’s the matter Basarri, you miss me?”

  “I am not at liberty to disclose that fact,” the guard replied sardonically.

  Miren put one hand on her hip, accentuating her shape. “Mmm… I think you did. Lucky for you, your boss has been saving me for a special occasion.”

  That piqued the guard’s interest. “Oh yeah?” He peered past her, at Àurea and Sera. They’d stayed back a respectful distance, as though trying not to overhear Miren’s exchange. “What’s the deal with this lot?”

  “Like I said, special request. You want a preview?”

  The guard’s attention was back on Miren. “Uh, yeah…” he glanced around. “Not here though. Get ‘em inside. You know the place.” He leered at her. “Oh yeah, sign in first though.” He fished a pad from the back of his armour and help it out to her.

  “Sure.” She took the pad and pressed her thumb to the screen. “You’ve got my number.”

  The guard backed through the doorway, and Miren followed.

  It was really that easy? Kreon’s instincts were still screaming at him, telling him that something was wrong. Or not wrong, precisely, but certainly not right. If nothing else, the law of averages meant that if this part of their mission was achieved so effortlessly, the rest of it would be almost impossible.

  As he lingered in the doorway, Kreon noticed the guard waving his pad towards Àurea. “Gotta get everyone to sign in first,” he said.

  Miren seemed up to the task, though. “Here, let me take that,” she said, snatching the pad and tossing it to Àurea. “They can sort themselves out. We haven’t got much time…”

  The guard glanced at Àurea, clearly torn. He obviously knew his duty, but he was fighting a battle which better men than him lost daily. Lust had been the most potent weapon a woman could employ since long before humanity left Earth.

  “Where’s the blind spot?” Miren hissed, her hand stroking up through her outfit. “It’s been so long…”

  “Here, here,” the guard beckoned. His voice had gone husky with desire; with remembered pleasure? Kreon felt vaguely sick, wondering how many times Miren had given herself to this man to facilitate precisely this entry.

  “Just a look,” Miren said, teasing the guard with her hands and eyes. “Can’t have you spoiling the boss’s fun now, can we? You get yours after… like a good little dog.”

  “Rrruf,” the guard said.

  “Bad doggy!”

  “RRUUFF!” he said, louder. She was backing further down the corridor, enticing him towards her. But he stopped. “What about them?” He looked back at the others. “Does the doggy get a taste?”

  Without hesitating, Àurea sauntered up to him. She’d covered her mask in a gold film for this, and she pulled the hood of her robe down to show it off. “Doggy has quite an appetite today,” she purred.

  It made Kreon’s blood boil to see his daughter playing the seductress, especially knowing what he now did. But this was not the time to take umbrage. He’d done the same, and far worse in his youth.

  Well, perhaps not exactly the same.

  Àurea was now growling quietly, her hands scrabbling at the guard’s chest armour like paws.

  She’d left the guard’s pad on the counter of his security station. Kreon took it, pretending to offer it to Sera whilst following the guard’s antics over her shoulder.

  Miren had backed far enough down the corridor and propped herself against the edge of a large stone frieze. She crooked her little finger at the guard, who was still eyeing Àurea’s mask suspiciously. “Basarri!” Miren swept her hands through her gauzy dress, dropping it off her tanned shoulders. “Where is that big hairy beast?”

  “Right here,” the guard said, turning towards her.

  Kreon let out a slow breath, replacing the pad on the counter.

  The guard stalked towards Miren. “Doggy wants a taste,” he growled.

  “Mmmm? Doggies do what they’re told,” she said, placing her hands on his armoured shoulders. ’Even the bad ones…”

  He bowed his head closer as she shrugged the top half of her dress away. Her bared breasts were only inches from the guard’s face and he lunged forwards, rubbing his cheek against one.

  Miren slid her hand inside his helmet, caressing his cheek.

  The guard stiffened as though an electric shock ran through him.

  “There. That should keep him occupied for a while.”

  Miren slipped out from the guard’s embrace and pushed him gently, so he was standing face against the wall.

  “You’ve drugged him like this before?” Kreon asked.

  “No. Usually I have to go through with it.” She shuddered. “It’s not pretty. But all for the cause, y’know.”

  Kreon couldn’t help but feel a smidgen of guilt, that the cause she had sacrificed so much of herself for was not his own.

  Leaving the guard entranced, mumbling quietly to himself and drooling, they pressed on down the corridor. “No monitoring down here,” Miren pointed out.

  It was a short walk to a fairly innocuous door, which she listened at for a second, before opening with her thumb. “Whew! Guess I’m still on the guest list after all. Though I doubt my prints will open any other doors in this place.”

  “Then let us hope we have no such need,” Kreon said, coming in last and closing the door behind them.

  It was immediately obvious that this suite, lavish though it seemed, was not Gerian’s personal quarters. Not a pillow was out of place; it had been cleaned since he last spent time in it, and none of his personal effects were in evidence.

  Sera scanned the room and began examining the walls.

  “This is where he met you? Àurea asked Miren. “Does he always use the same room?”

  Kreon was quietly relieved to find his daughter had never been in here before.

  “Yes, every time,” the entertainer confirmed. “It makes sense that he’d be able to access it quickly and easily — he wouldn’t want a ten-minute hike back to his chambers past half his staff… afterwards.”

  “No,” Kreon agreed. “We search this room, but leave it unaltered. If we find nothing, we will work on the corridors in the immediate vicinity. Perhaps a private elevator…”

  �
�urea glanced at him, a worried frown on her face. Kreon returned it. They all knew their window for success was extremely narrow. If Gerian could not be found before his entire household was alerted to the intrusion, they would have little choice but to escape by whatever avenue presented itself.

  “Here.” Sera’s tone was clipped, suggesting that she was also feeling the pressure. “Locked wardrobe.”

  Kreon limped over, wafting his irritating skirts out of the way. “Miren, did you ever view the contents of this cupboard?”

  The girl shrugged. “Not that I remember. But it could be full of handcuffs and sex-toys.”

  “And locked?” Sera’s gaze was sharp. “Such items would require easy access. And it’s extremely unlikely any of his staff would consider stealing them.”

  “Very well.” Kreon unsheathed the impossibly sharp blade from the small of his back. He’d been forced to enter this place without a rifle, but going anywhere without the Kharash knife was unthinkable. “Hold the door.”

  Sera placed both hands against the heavy wood — quite possibly an antique piece smuggled in from Earth, Kreon realised — as he went to work on the hinges. The knife sliced through both as though they were made of butter, and the door came free in Sera’s hands.

  He heard Àurea gasp, then Miren.

  “What is it?”

  In the time it took him to get to his feet, Sera had leaned the door against the wall. All four of them stood in a semicircle and admired their discovery.

  A Portal.

  “So… Gerian took up the same hobby as Mikelatz. Interesting.”

  Sera opened the other door to fully reveal the Portal. “Does ‘interesting’ imply you have a means of activating this thing? Because if not, Gerian’s quarters could be anywhere in this building.”

  “I am unsure,” Kreon admitted. “My DNA was sufficient to activate the Portals Mikelatz created. He eventually learned to copy the technology, but could never reverse-engineer it. Our Kharash genes remained the key to all of his creations.”

  “Something Gerian doesn’t have,” Sera pointed out. “Unless he discovered exactly the same thing you did. Seems highly unlikely.”

  “There is one way to find out.” Kreon pointed at the Portal. “If you’d all make ready, I suggest we attempt to enter. The other side could be anywhere, from another room in this building to an airless planet a thousand light years away from Obsidia.”

  “In which case, we’ll all be dead in seconds,” Miren pointed out.

  “Indeed. However, the Portal’s presence in this chamber suggests its use is of the more pedestrian variety — namely, allowing Gerian clandestine access to his private brothel.”

  “I’m ready, father,” Àurea said.

  Sera just stared at him, her eyes glittering coldly.

  Kreon removed his glove and reached forwards, running his fingertips along the Portal’s frame. This one was simple, unembellished metal, and clearly man-made.

  With not a whisper of sound, the inky depths within the frame began to swirl.

  Miren gasped again; the entertainer would never have seen one active before.

  “I believe that confirms one theory,” Kreon said. “Now I will test theory number two.”

  And limping closer to the mirror, he stepped through.

  The cold clawed at him, chilling him to the bone. Immense pressure surrounded him, squeezing, as the feeling of all-pervasive malevolence assailed his mind.

  And then he was through.

  The room he’d arrived in was similarly appointed; real wood panelled the walls, also featuring on most of the furniture. It appeared to be a command centre of sorts, rather than a bedroom. Rows of viewscreens lined the far wall, all currently dormant. A console before them and a single chair suggested the room was designed for sole occupancy.

  Excellent.

  Sera crashed into him as she came through behind him. Kreon staggered forward, turning to glare at her.

  Sera glared right back. “Why are you always in my way, old man?”

  The arrival of Àurea, followed closely by Miren, obviated the need to reply.

  Both women took stock of their surroundings. Mirren, staring around wide-eyed, gave a low whistle. “This is it! Got to be.” Her tone was hushed, as she pointed across the room. “Two doors. I’m betting at least one of those leads to his bedroom.”

  Kreon made eye contact with the others in turn, getting nods of confirmation. He pointed to the nearest door, and they made their way over as silently as possible. The thick cream carpet underfoot aided this; Gerian seemed to style his whole world like high-class hotel rooms or offices from Earth. Has he actually been there? Kreon wondered. It wasn’t impossible; no matter how many incursions the Earth Warden prevented, there were always some that slipped under the radar. And that Spectre in the docking bay was faster by far than anything Sera had employed in Earth’s defence.

  The two doors were also modelled after their Earthen equivalents. Both were plain wood with simple handles, and appeared to swing into the room they were standing in.

  As they assembled around the first one, Kreon drew his laser pistols. They were far from his favourite weapons, but against an unarmoured opponent they were as deadly as anything else.

  He would have to be careful not to kill Gerian too quickly.

  It can’t be this easy, said the voice in his head. It can’t be.

  It wasn’t.

  Miren eased the door open, allowing Àurea to slide inside. As the most agile of them, she was the logical choice. The others followed, finding themselves in what was undoubtably Gerian’s bedchamber. An eclectic mix of Earth artwork and gadgetry hung on the walls, as though the place was a shrine to his collection.

  But Gerian wasn’t there.

  His bed was rumpled, giving Kreon the frustrating feeling that they had just missed him.

  The other door from the command centre led into a bathroom, though this was thoroughly modern and functional, without a trace of wood in sight.

  “Sydon’s Name!” Kreon cursed. “He could have left only moments ago! And we have no idea when he’ll return. Much as I would like to, we cannot simply sit here and wait for him. Our ruse will not last indefinitely. Miren, how long until that guard recovers?”

  “Oh, he’ll be out for hours, but I had to leave him in a camera blind-spot. At some point someone will come and check on him. Or the computer will flag our shuttle if it sits idle too long… The trouble is, we never had much info on the security measures inside this place. None of Gerian’s staff would risk talking, and it’s not like this stuff is public record.”

  “We have one thing in our favour,” Àurea pointed out. “I haven’t seen a Shrine anywhere in these quarters.”

  “Fringe benefits of being the Assessor General,” Miren agreed. “No-one listening in on your every word.”

  Kreon strode over to the console, noting the huge array of screens. “He must monitor his entire network from here. Is there any way we can get in?”

  Àurea came over to look at it. “I’m not much of a hacker, but I can try. We could really use that talos of yours right now.”

  Kreon’s mood darkened another notch. “Indeed.”

  He looked around the place, seeking inspiration. His eyes came to rest on the sturdy wooden cupboard they’d emerged from.

  Another identical one sat opposite it.

  He strode towards it, pulling his knife free. Either he was about to root through Gerian’s underwear drawer, or something far more interesting lay within…

  He didn’t worry about the doors this time, letting them topple to the carpeted floor. There was no point disguising their actions in here — if they achieved nothing else, he was minded to torch the place as a message to Gerian.

  We can reach you at any time.

  Though such a threat would hold little water for a man with Gerian’s talents.

  Then again… maybe they wouldn’t have to.

  Because revealed inside the second wardrobe
was the smooth frame and swirling darkness of a Portal, identical to the first.

  “Another one?” Miren was flabbergast.

  Sera merely hissed in annoyance. She hated Portals as much as Oktavius did — possibly more, since she’d been married to Kreon when the exploding Portal maimed him.

  But there it was, roiling with barely-suppressed evil.

  As a tool, it was ideally suited to Gerian.

  “Still active,” Kreon observed. “We are even closer to our quarry than I believed.”

  “Do we go in?” Miren asked, her eyes like saucers. “This one really could lead to outer space…”

  Sera looked at Kreon. “There is a strong possibility that Gerian went this way, but we must keep our escape route clear. If we find ourselves in the middle of some secret Assessor’s torture-facility, we must be prepared to flee.”

  Kreon hoisted an eyebrow. It was rare indeed for Sera to suggest retreat. Being essentially unarmed and entirely unarmoured clearly didn’t agree with her.

  Then Àurea spoke up from behind them. “Father, you may wish to see this.”

  Built into the console was a concealed hatch. Àurea had popped it open, revealing an Earth-style safe complete with combination dial.

  Kreon considered it. A heavy blaster on full power would be able to melt through the thick steel eventually, but they had neither the time nor the powerpacks to try.

  “We need to clear this away,” he gestured at the console.

  Àurea’s eyes gleamed. “I thought you’d never ask.” Uncoiling her chain-weapons from beneath her dress, she took a step back and whirled them around her. Almost instantly they became a blur; when she lashed out, the move was only noticeable by the damage it caused. Great ranks of viewscreens collapsed with a crash, as she peeled back the console a chunk at a time. In seconds it was done. Àurea swung the weapons to a stop and recoiled them, while Kreon knelt amidst the shattered plas and splintered wood. The safe itself was unharmed. Àurea’s weapons were impressive, but he doubted she’d be able to open the thing even at full momentum.

  Fortunately, he could.

  The tip of his Kharash knife slid effortlessly into the heavy-gauge steel, slicing the front of the safe clean off.