Warden's Vengeance Page 20

  “Oh! Right.” He craned his neck to address the ceiling. “Askarra? Are you there?”

  “Of course Tristan!” his mother’s voice gushed. “My deepest apologies for allowing the Priestess to enter. I am shielded against electromagnetic radiation from the outside, but the weapon she detonated was already inside my shielding. I wasn’t—”

  “That’s okay,” Tris said, his cheeks flushing at her obvious concern. “We’re all okay. Well, Kyra…”

  “Her condition is stable, pending full assessment,” the computer reported.

  “Great. Okay, well, Sera and Àurea need to go somewhere. Can you give them command access please?”

  “No Tristan, I cannot. My primary directive is to protect you, and I do not believe any of these others have your best interests at heart.”

  Tris was full-on blushing with embarrassment now. “No, it’s all good Mum, honest. Sera used to be the Warden of Earth, and Àurea—”

  “I am well aware of their designations and past exploits,” she reminded him crisply. “These parameters have been factored into my calculation. I cannot contravene my core programming by handing control of this station over to one who may wilfully endanger it, or you, in furtherance of their private agendas.”

  “Oh.” Tris mugged an apologetic face at Sera. “But it’s really important that we go to this… place?” He raised questioning eyebrows.

  Sera gave a frustrated sigh. “I have already provided the frequency of the locator beacon and its current co-ordinates.”

  “Right!” Tris returned his gaze to the ceiling. “So, can we go there?”

  “Certainly, Tristan. The journey to that location will take approximately seventeen hours. Would you like to depart immediately?” Askarra’s voice was back to its electronic norm.

  Sera muttered something about clever computers under her breath.

  Tris dusted his hands. “Right, that’s sorted then. Can I use the Portal while we’re underway?”

  “Theoretically possible, but not recommended,” the computer answered. “My understanding of dimensional wormhole theory is extremely limited, but Mikelatz never attempted Portal travel with the grav-drive engaged.”

  “Right.” Tris rolled his shoulders and gave his head a shake, hoping the last of the hallucinations had gone. Seeing Evie where Kyra was… he shuddered at the memory. He’d unloaded a full volley into her at close range. If it had been anyone other than Kyra, he’d have been wiping her up from the docking bay floor. “Better wait for me to get back, then. I’ll get moving.”

  “We’ll be waiting for you,” Sera said. “Please be quick. Time is not on our side in this.”

  Tris nodded, and threw a questioning thumbs-up at Àurea. The girl had hardly looked at him.

  He turned to go, when something occurred to him. “Um… where’s Kreon?”

  Sera didn’t look at him. “He didn’t make it back.”

  Tris just stared at her, feeling the blood drain out of his face. Suddenly, the frost in her tone made sense. As did the expression on Àurea’s face, which he now recognised as grief. His stomach clenched as the full implications of her words hit home. “He… didn’t make it? How did…?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

  “He stayed behind in Gerian’s lab,” Sera elaborated. “But not by choice. I’ll brief you fully when you return. And when—” her voice caught, and she stopped speaking. She took a long breath, hissed it out, and when she looked at him he could see jewels of moisture in the corners of her eyes. “I’ll brief you when we figure out exactly what happened.”

  First Tris visited the armoury, stepping over the ruined doors to find a pistol small enough to tuck down the back of his jeans. He noticed the blood on the back of his hand while doing so, and wondered how bad his face looked.

  Better clean it off before I go walking through the middle of Bristol!

  But that could wait until he reached his house. Sera was understandably distraught, and stopping to freshen up might appear a tad insensitive.

  He didn’t believe for a second that Kreon was dead; the wily old bastard had survived far too much to die at the hands of a slime like Gerian. But there was more to the story; he could see it in their eyes, in the sense of urgency dominating their actions.

  They were hoping there was a chance to save him, and they believed that getting to wherever he was as fast as possible could make the difference.

  That was good enough for Tris.

  When he set off for the Portal room, Askarra directed him to take an alternate route. He mused on this, riding down in an unfamiliar, yet identical, elevator. Perhaps the damage had been worse than he thought?

  His answer came when he rounded the last corner and saw the blackened, melted edges of the hole leading into the docking bay.

  Because just beyond it, contained in a stretch of corridor by a hazy blue sheet of energy at both ends, was Evie.

  The slender assassin was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall, glaring at him.

  “You hurt Kyra,” he said, loading his words with venom.

  “She had it coming.” The assassin sounded bored. “She was a bad girl. So… Have you come to punish me?” The slightly suggestive way she said it turned his stomach. Either she was messing with him — admittedly more than likely — or she truly was sick.

  “Kyra’s in the hospital right now,” he said, “getting fixed up. And you’re going to stay right there until she’s better. Then we’re going to have a rematch. I’m just going to fetch my dad’s staff — you might recognise it. Cuts through absolutely anything.”

  Evie pushed herself smoothly up the wall and sauntered towards him. “Aww! Daddy issues? Is it a nice big stick? Nice and hard? Are you going to give it to me?” She rolled her hips around suggestively — then slapped the forcefield, making it flash white. Tris jumped in spite of himself.

  Evie leaned back against the wall and slid down it to the floor. “What does she see in you?”

  Tris took a step closer, feeling oddly defensive. “You’ll never know.”

  Evie’s eyes flicked up at him; the same dizzying emerald green as Ella’s. Only the accusation in them differed. “They’ll kill you too, you know,” she said bitterly. “They’ll make her watch. Oh, they’ll hurt her first, hurt her badly. You’ll get to see that part. They like to take their time. And when you can’t scream for her anymore, they’ll make you scream for you. That’s how they’ll break her. Stupid, stupid girl…” Evie’s voice had gone distant, and she shook her head. “All for you.” She looked back up at him, and this time her eyes burned with righteous fury. “I hope you were worth it.”

  Tris found his mouth too dry to answer.

  The docking bay looked so different in the light.

  It seemed smaller somehow, now he could see the extent of it. There was barely any trace of the fight, beyond the twisted wreckage of the doors; a scorch mark on the deck here and there, and the odd droplet of blood.

  He ignored these, as he made his way to the Portal in the centre of the room. It had survived intact, for which he was extremely grateful. Evie probably didn’t know she’d never have been able to turn it on. Once she’d crossed over to the Folly and let the Portal close behind her, she’d trapped herself pretty conclusively.

  Reaching up and stroking the frame, Tris felt the same revulsion he always did. Even though this was a man-made device, an artefact fashioned by his dad, it still turned his stomach just being close to it. Preparing for the journey through was an effort in willpower; he had to psych himself up fresh every time.

  Ugh! Portals… and Kreon still wants me to go through the one on Arixia? He shuddered. Although whatever the Warden was wrapped up in now might take precedence, at least for a while.

  Either way, Kreon had made no bones about it; a trip through that grotesque alien doorway was essential. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

  This trip was no better or worse than the ones before it, and he focussed his mind on thought
s of Ella to get him through that infinite split-second of utter revulsion.

  For once, he didn’t emerge into a face-full of shirts.

  But the room wasn’t empty.

  “Tris!” The shriek of delight was the most welcome sound he’d ever heard.

  As he staggered out of the wardrobe Ella threw herself into his arms, wrapping him in a hug so tight he felt his ribs creak.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay! When I got here and found the door open…”

  Tris looked past her, up the stairs — the door to the basement had been torn off its hinges, the heavy locking bar split, no doubt the work of Evie on her way in after them.

  “Yeah, we did have a bit of a problem,” he said, starting to disentangle himself. “When you said you were dealing with family issues, it never occurred to me that your sister was coming to visit.”

  Ella drew back, tracing his face with her fingertip. “Oh, Tris! I’m so sorry about this.” She glanced critically at his broken nose. “We can get that fixed though. Is everyone else okay?”

  Tris shrugged. “Kyra’s in a bad way. She did most of the fighting. I just… got caught in the crossfire.”

  “There’s a contract out on Kyra,” Ella explained. “A big one. There always was, but I think Evie’s taken it on exclusively. She has a… slight vindictive streak.”

  “No shit?” Tris chuckled. “I guess that’s not really a bad thing in her line of work.”

  “It comes in handy,” Ella agreed. “But I’m so glad you’re safe! I didn’t know how long I’d have to wait for you.” She flicked a hand at the Portal. “I tried to turn it on, but I couldn’t find the switch.”

  “Oh right, yeah.” Tris couldn’t help himself; a smile was spreading beyond his ability to control it. “It’s magic.”

  She raised a suggestive eyebrow. “Mmm! I like your kind of magic.”

  He placed his hands on her hips, allowing a slight whimper of anticipation to escape. “But there’s no time,” he reminded himself, taking her hands instead. “We’ve got to fetch Ana and Lukas from Sera’s base. We need them back on the Folly. And then… I’m not sure. The others got back in a mad panic, Kreon is missing, and they’re going to make some kind of rescue attempt. I think.” He blurted it all out, not caring how confused it made him seem. Ella loved him, for some mysterious reasons he’d never quite figured out. But they certainly didn’t include him being any kind of genius.

  “Let’s go then,” she said. She took a dainty backpack off the old table and sauntered off up the stairs. Tris couldn’t help but watch; it was like poetry at the best of times, but right now she was wearing cut-off denim shorts and a gauzy white top over what looked like a bikini. Her legs were slim and pale, with the same scattering of freckles that graced the rest of her.

  They were also gorgeous.

  “I thought we were in a rush,” she said, reaching the top of the stairs.

  “We are,” he said, hurrying after her. “I was just—”

  “That’s okay, sweetie. You can look.” She smiled wickedly at him over her shoulder. “I’m an assassin. I always dress to kill.”

  Tris stopped in the kitchen to run some water over his hands and face. Blotting at it with kitchen towel was painful, but seemed to get the worst of it off. Ella took a turn, tutting at his injuries while he tried not to wince at her probing them.

  Outside, the sun was shining again, making a lot more sense of her outfit.

  “Um, I was going to run all the way,” he said, apologetically. “Can you keep up?”

  The look she gave him was encouraging and patronising in equal measure. “Of course, dear.” She patted his cheek. “I can run faster than you drive.”

  “I can’t drive.”

  “Really? Neither can I. Last time I was here, I mostly flew helicopters.”

  They set off at a jog, and Tris quickly found his stride. Sore muscles complained at him, and for a while he struggled to get his breathing into sync. It had been a while since he’d done much cardio, he realised — unless hobbling at speed through a pitch black space station counted.

  Ella matched him effortlessly, the soft boots she’d chosen perfect for the run.

  They reached the warehouse in record time. A young girl was sitting on a scrap of cardboard by the chain-link fence, playing with a broken flip-flop. Tris didn’t recognise her; she looked homeless, but where were her parents? He glanced around — to see Ella had pulled a tiny knife from somewhere.

  “We’re surrounded,” she whispered, pressing a second knife towards Tris. “We passed two sentries already, but the others must have looped around behind us.”

  Tris looked down at the girl, wondering if he should warn her, but she was staring up at him. “You got the hole,” she said.

  Ella had been scanning the surrounding rooftops, but she stopped to focus on the girl. “I beg your pardon?”

  “He’s got the hole,” the girl said, pointing at Tris. “My Mummy’s a nurse, and she said this boy has a big hole.”

  It dawned on Tris what she was on about. While liaising between Mark and the refugees, he’d discovered he could tell when a person was speaking English or not. Even though the translation device had wired itself directly into his brain, there were certain tells when alien tongues were being used. This girl was definitely not from around here.

  “It’s okay,” he told Ella. “These are the people we’re here to protect.”

  Ella tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. On the roof of the neighbouring warehouse, partially concealed behind a decrepit air-con unit, perched a man with a sniper rifle. Tris did a quick scan and found three more, all with high-tech rifles pointed right at him.

  “Okay well, maybe they don’t need that much protecting.”

  The little girl had stood up, and she took Tris by the hand. “Can I see your hole?”

  Tris looked at Ella, who was suppressing a giggle.

  “You have a hole?” her eyebrow was raised suggestively again.

  “Ha! Yeah… when I arrived at their place, I’d been shot in the chest,” Tris clarified.

  Ella looked shocked. “When was this?”

  Tris gave the snipers a cheery wave, then wrapped an arm around Ella as the little girl tugged him towards the gate. “I dunno, it was a long time ago.”

  Ella frowned at him. “How long?”

  Tris made a show of studying the sky. “Oh, I dunno. At least… a couple of weeks?”

  16

  The little girl led them into the warehouse, opening the fire door that led down into the hidden base.

  They descended past three levels containing the expected mix of activity — after which Tris came across something that was most definitely not expected.

  On the level containing most of the command infrastructure, one large room had been fitted out as a gym. At the far end of it, he found Lukas — stretched out semi-naked on a long table, while the prettier of the Pit’s two nurses kneaded his shoulders.

  Tris could hardly believe what he was seeing. “You’re getting another massage?”

  Lukas opened his eyes and gazed up at him speculatively. “Hey Tess! Yeah, I’m starting to like this planet of yours.”

  Tris was lost for words. “Lukas… people on Earth don’t just get massaged all day! They’ve got jobs to go to. And so have you. What if this place was attacked?”

  Lukas flapped an oily hand at him. “You met the guards, right?”

  “Yeah, but shouldn’t you be up there with them?”

  “Tris, look at me.” He turned onto his side, putting one leg up; the towel was in serious danger of slipping off completely, and Tris fought the effort to step in and adjust it. “I’m a hundred and twenty kilos of solid muscle. Two things don’t agree with me: stealth, and perching on fragile tin roofs.”

  Tris closed his eyes to avoid seeing any more. Kyra was right; this man was infuriating. “Well anyway, we’ve got to go I’m afraid. Play time is over.”

  “Oh, hey Tris!” Mark sat
up from a second table. Lukas’ bronzed body was so massive that Mark had been entirely hidden behind him.

  Tris stared at him. “You too?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Mark protested. “We were working out. Lukas was showing me a few things. Watch this!” And Mark slipped off the massage table — thankfully still wearing his pants. He took a stance, then flicked up into a perfect handstand. “I’ve been trying to nail this for ages,” he said, still upside-down.

  “Yeah, I still don’t think that counts as work.”

  Mark went right-side-up again. “But you were always trying to get your handstand right. Give it a go! He can help you.”

  “Thanks, but we’re kind of in the middle of something right now.”

  “It’s called a gym,” Lukas pointed out.

  “Yes, very funny. But I am not doing a handstand.”

  “Hey, it’s okay if you can’t,” Lukas made a calm-down gesture with one hand. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. Not everyone can.”

  “No, I can,” Tris corrected him, “I just mean we’ve got more important stuff to do.” He glanced at Ella for support, only to find her watching him with interest. “Oh, for God’s sake!”

  Taking a stance on the nearest mat, he stretched, then kicked up into a handstand. It seemed ages since he’d tried one; he wobbled straight away, only managing a handful of heartbeats before collapsing in a tangle of limbs.

  “Ha ha! Nice try mate,” Mark ribbed.

  “Yeah, not bad,” Lukas said. “Little unstable. I think you need to work on your core strength.”

  Tris scrambled to his feet, his face flushed. “Well, can you do one?” he snapped.

  Lukas pulled himself into a sitting position, balling the towel up in his lap. “Nah. No offence or anything, but gymnastics are for girls.”

  Convincing Lukas of the need to hurry was like telling the tide to speed up. The big man strolled casually through the base, stopping often to shake hands and exchange fist-bumps with the people working around him.