Warden's Vengeance Page 22

  “This.” Sera took over with that single word. Tris looked at the viewscreen she’d indicated, and saw… He wasn’t sure what he saw.

  The fuzzy image featured a blue alien that looked like it had been carved out of glass.

  “What is it? Some kind of statue?”

  “Unknown. But this is the entity that captured Kreon. We tracked Gerian to a laboratory ship on the moon we are now approaching. Amongst the apparatus he has gathered there, I believe he has the remains of Kreon’s talos.”

  “Loader!” Tris couldn’t help himself. His interest was now well and truly piqued. “What was he doing there? Was he a prisoner?”

  “Of sorts. He gave no indication that he was functioning. Gerian had him wired into a sarcophagus of unknown origin. That device is where the crystalline alien in my vid-capture was housed.”

  “Ohhh…” A dozen emotions squabbled for Tristan’s attention. Fear for Loader. Joy that he was still alive. Relief that they’d found him, and confusion about why the talos would be helping Gerian. But on top of it all floated a theory; it had come to him fully-formed, and he turned it this way and that to see if it held water. With Kreon, he would have just blurted it out, but Sera ran a tighter ship. “You said that Loader was part of the infrastructure, but that he didn’t respond to you?”

  “He may not have had the opportunity. Gerian could have disabled his means of communication.”

  “True enough.” Tris stroked his chin. “That… thing. Was it alive?”

  “It was controlled by Gerian, through an interface.”

  “But was it breathing? Like properly alive?”

  Sera exchanged another glance with her daughter. “We have no way of knowing.”

  “What is it, Tristan?” Àurea came closer to him, cocking her head. “You know something about this creature?”

  Tris blew out the breath he was holding. “I think it’s Loader. Or rather, I think that’s what his people looked like, long ago. He told me they created mechanical bodies to escape the effects of the Black Ships, or whatever they were called back then. I think that’s what we’re looking at.”

  Sera’s eyes narrowed. “A talos?”

  “A very ancient one,” Tris confirmed. “But not built as a mechanical servant — designed to house the consciousness of an organic being, a living alien from Loader’s original species.”

  “That would pre-date the Kharash Expansion, then.” Sera turned back to the display, studying the image with interest.

  “Kreon once told me he thought Loader was the oldest thing in the galaxy.”

  Sera looked back at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Older than him, even? I am impressed.”

  “We need to decide what to do about it,” Àurea pointed out. “Whatever this thing once was, it is now under Gerian’s direct control. It appears to be impervious to weaponry, though we’ve yet to attempt high explosives. Its structure is non-metallic, and laser energy is simply absorbed or deflected. Father’s staff had the most effect, but—” her voice hitched, and she cleared her throat.

  “What Àurea is saying,” Sera continued for her, “is that we will have to fight this thing. And as of this moment, we have no conclusive way of doing that. Do you have any suggestions?”

  Tris racked his brain, while his fingers drummed against each other. “Only my knife,” he said finally. “Kreon told me it cuts through anything, and I’ve never found a material that could stop it. If that thing comes for us, I can try to damage it.”

  Sera nodded. “That’s a start. Àurea and I will equip ourselves from the armoury, and we’ll see how much punishment that thing can take.”

  “One more thing though,” Tris said, as Sera turned to leave.

  “Yes?”

  “Loader. If he’s still alive out there, he’s the key to this. We need to bring him back safely.”

  “We all have our priorities,” Àurea said quietly. “Mine is my father.”

  Ella had said nothing during the briefing. As the other women left to gear up, Tris sidled over to her. “Hey, you. I thought you might come and see me last night?”

  Ella met his gaze, but hers seemed oddly distant. “Oh Tris,” she started. “I’m so sorry, I feel wretched! I can’t believe I missed it. I knew Evie was up to something, I was hoping I could corner her and find out what. But I had no idea she was meddling with Kyra! A right mess she made… I’m sorry, Tris. This was all my fault.”

  “What?” Tris moved closer to her and put a hand to her face. “No, not at all! Look, we should have remembered she knew about the Bristol house. I mean, anyone could have been waiting for us there, we’ve made a lot of enemies lately! It’s always bugged me that the Portals stay open until they turn themselves off. I just never thought about someone coming through on purpose. But hey, Evie is Evie, you know? She wanted to chop me up the first time we met, remember?”

  Ella cracked half a smile. “Actually, she wanted to shag you first, and then cut you up. I’m not sure which bothered me the most.”

  Tris chuckled, and Ella’s grin deepened.

  “So we’re okay?” he asked her.

  “We are, sweetie. I’m sorry. I’m just not good at…” She waved a hand between them. “This.”

  It was the first trace of awkwardness he’d ever seen in her. “What, like… relationships? Wow. Is that why you keep disappearing on me?”

  She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I don’t let people get close to me often. Never, actually. It’s a professional rule.

  Tris raised his eyebrows at her. “You mean, this thing with us… I’m your first?”

  Her grin turned mischievous. “Put it this way. Most of the people I go to bed with don’t survive the night.”

  “Ah. Yeah.” Tris back-pedalled. “Maybe forget I said that.” He looked around for a subject change. “So, you coming with us on this mission?”

  Ella turned downcast. “I’m not sure. Sera seems disagreeable. She hasn’t even spoken to me. It’s difficult… She helped me out when I was in trouble, but then she told her thugs to kill me when she went rotten. People in my line of work don’t take betrayal very well. That’s another professional rule.”

  “Yeah…” It had been bugging Tris how little consequence Sera had suffered from her failed coup. She’d never expressed the slightest regret about trying repeatedly to kill them all, and just seemed to take for granted that she could slot herself into their team with no hard feelings.

  Then again, Tris was still pretty sure she was nuts.

  Sometimes he looked at her and saw that image of her in the Australian desert, taunting him with his own knife.

  Really and truly, there should be some kind of punishment. At the very least, she shouldn’t be strolling around the Folly like she owned the place, dishing out orders left and right.

  “Maybe I should have a word with her. With both of them.”

  “It’s up to you,” Ella said. “But I’ll stick up for you.”

  He took her hands. “Thank-you. That makes me feel unstoppable.”

  When Sera and Àurea returned to the bridge, each toting an assortment of potent-looking weaponry, Tris cleared his throat. “There’s something I’ve got to say.”

  Both women looked at him quizzically.

  “The Folly is my ship. Wayfinder belongs to Kreon. It was his crusade against the Black Ships that brought us here, and his intention would be to follow through on that at all costs. To which end, I am taking command here. I appreciate you all have more experience than me, but I’m Kreon’s apprentice; he would trust me to have his best interests at heart.”

  Àurea gazed at him without comment. Sera seemed almost amused. “In that case, would you like to reacquaint us with our mission parameters?”

  Tris knew she was only messing with him, but he’d already stuck his neck out. Might as well follow through. “Yes.” He held up a hand and ticked off the fingers. “Rescue Kreon. Rescue Loader. If we see that blue shiny thing, stay clear if we can. If not, smash it to b
its.”

  “Succinct,” Àurea nodded.

  Sera turned that appraising look on him. “And if we find Gerian?”

  Tris held her gaze and stared right back. “Leave him to me.”

  * * *

  Tris sat in the command chair as the countdown to real-space ticked down.

  He was already feeling a little silly about his decision to take charge. Luckily he had a sentient battle station on his side; he was reasonably sure Askarra wouldn’t let him make too many glaring errors.

  “We are within sensor range,” she reported, as the viewscreens resolved into their patterns of stars. A small moon hung between the Folly and their target; Tris hadn’t expressly ordered the computer to find cover, but he was glad she’d taken the initiative.

  “Will they know if we’re sweeping them?” Tris asked.

  “I’ve performed a low-level pass,” the electronic monotone came back. “They should be unaware of our intrusion. However, I should warn you; I am picking up no life-signs.”

  “What?” Tris felt an overwhelming urge to look at Sera, to ask for her opinion. Maybe next time. “Are there any other ships in the area?” he asked instead.

  “Negative.”

  “But our target has landed on a planet, right?”

  “The science vessel is stationary on the surface of an uninhabitable moon. It appears to have been deployed there for some time.”

  “Okay.” Again, Tris resisted the urge to look askance of his ‘crew.’ “I guess we should go in a bit closer then. Maybe they’re all wearing environment suits, checking out the other side of the moon?”

  “I will bring us within close sensor range,” Askarra confirmed.

  The Folly moved smoothly, slipping out from behind the nearest moon and making a rapid approach on the far one.

  “Getting anything?” he asked, squinting at the viewscreen. The ship was surrounded by other structures and heavy equipment, some of which was attached to it; it really did look like it had been there awhile, more like a permanent base than a passing visit.

  “Sensors show the ship is powered, but unarmed. Its main drives do not appear to have been fired recently.”

  “Is anyone alive down there?” A creepy feeling was building in his gut; they’d approached too many situations like this lately.

  “Inconclusive,” Askarra chimed.

  Great. Do we go in? Or is it a monster-laden slaughterhouse down there? Bloody hell Kyra, great time to be taking a nap.

  But that wasn’t fair. He’d gotten himself into this. And Kyra’s strength lay in her confidence. Well, amongst her other gifts…

  The gift!

  “I’ll see if I can sense anyone,” Tris said, for the benefit of the others.

  Then he closed his eyes and reached out, searching for Kreon.

  He wasn’t there.

  But nor was the madness; that insatiable, frenzied bloodlust he’d encountered on Admiral Benin’s abandoned flagship. He got no trace of Transgressors either; their bestial rage would have been tangible from behind the other moon.

  There was… no-one.

  Well… he caught one tiny spark, but it was smothered quickly. Either someone who had a talent for the Gift, and had quickly hidden it, or else an ordinary person — that had just died.

  “There’s someone down there,” he said. “But I think they’re alone.”

  “Gerian,” Àurea hissed. “What have you done with my father?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tris turned to face her. “I get no sense of him. Whatever happened to Kreon, he’s not on that ship. Not anymore.”

  Her face hardened beneath the mask. “Are we going to find out?”

  Tris nodded. “Askarra, keep a watch out for other ships please, and let me know if anything shows up.” It was a blatantly redundant command, but he felt better for saying it. “We’ll take a shuttle over there,” he told Sera. “No, two shuttles; Ella and I in one, and you two in the other.”

  “As you command,” she said, a twinkle of amusement in her eye.

  As she led her daughter off the bridge, Tris couldn’t help thinking that she was still screwing with him. Her ex-husband was missing, quite possibly dead, and they were headed right into yet another potentially disastrous situation. It seemed perverse that she was enjoying herself.

  Then again, as he checked the glaive was secured to yet another new suit of armour, he had to admit — he was starting to get a taste for this.

  For their tandem flight over to Gerian’s lab, Sera and Àurea chose the last remaining ‘good’ shuttle. That left Tris with an old junker they’d acquired from the Pit.

  He chose to let Ella pilot it.

  It was quite a while since he’d been in a ship with her, and he’d completely forgotten that her flying style and his differed considerably. Ella gunned the engines right out of the docking bay, and rocketed off towards their target moon like she was driving a getaway car.

  “Please slow down when we get there,” he muttered.

  She flashed him a grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Needless to say, it was a quick descent.

  “Makes a change, no-one shooting at us,” Ella remarked. She angled into an open docking bay cut into the side of the science vessel, and swung them around on full power rather than decelerating. Tris was left pinned to his chair by his restraints; they’d tightened automatically as the g-forces outstripped the compensators.

  Ella was up and waiting by the hatch before he managed to extricate himself. “Thanks for the ride,” he told her. “How do you feel about me flying on the way back?”

  She mugged a thoughtful expression. “That depends on if there’s anyone shooting at us.”

  They came down the ramp with weapons poised, to find Sera and Àurea doing the same.

  “Sensors found nothing on the way in,” Sera apprised him.

  Tris didn’t admit that he’d been too scared of vomiting in front of Ella to worry about sensors. “You guys know the layout of the place?” he asked them.

  Àurea shook her head. “We never made it this far. But it appeared to be a standard research vessel. The labs were interchangeable modules in the centre of the ship. If we head aft, we should find them.”

  “Excellent. I don’t think checking the bridge would help us, anyway. Whatever I sensed, it’s in those labs. Or it was.”

  They moved out as a single group, Tris keeping his eyes peeled for signs of enraged telepaths. He reached out with the Gift, trying to get a fix on that glimmer he’d spotted earlier, but he got nothing. On the upside, this made them a lot harder to sneak up on. The downside was, he had a tendency to walk into things while he was concentrating inwardly.

  It wasn’t long before they found their first sign that not all was well aboard the ship. Halfway across the docking bay they encountered a scuff mark on the floor. The dark reddish-brown colour looked suspicious.

  “Blood,” Ella confirmed. “I can smell it.”

  Tris didn’t question it; she had some odd talents, but blood was something she would know all about.

  “Safeties off,” Tris joked. He wasn’t sure the chunky rifle he’d chosen had a safety catch; it was a model he’d only practiced with a couple of times, and never live-fired. But he remembered Kyra choosing one like it to fend off Evie, so it had to be worth something.

  They advanced through the docking bay and into the corridor, seeing the same scuff mark repeated again and again.

  “It’s a footprint,” Tris said suddenly. “Someone walked through blood on the way in here.”

  “Or on the way out,” Sera added, pointing. “That looks like our culprit.”

  The body was slumped against the wall just past the first intersection. A middle-aged man with an impressive paunch, he wore the bland clothes and lab coat of a technician. The rifle in his hands was pristine; Tris could imagine the man had never had to fire it in anger. But whoever he was shooting at had clearly got the drop on him; a huge hole ran clear through his chest, leaki
ng tiny streamers of blood into the pool beneath him.

  “This is fresh, right?” Tris looked at Ella.

  “This level of exsanguination could have taken hours,” she replied, “but not more than three or four. This happened recently.”

  Moving around the man, Tris led them on. Ella came up next to him, a reassuring presence if ever there was one. “Just once,” he confided in her, “I’d like to arrive on a space ship that isn’t filled with dead bodies.”

  Sticking with the bloody scuff-marks, which seemed to predate the dead body, they pressed on in the direction of the labs. It wasn’t a complex ship; Àurea suggested that this area was mostly storerooms for chemicals and spare equipment, along with quarters for the lower echelons of the ship’s crew.

  “Left,” Sera hissed from behind.

  Tris turned into a wide, central corridor — and found the most disturbing scene yet.

  Three men had died in here, all of them violently.

  All wore matching grey uniforms; all clutched high-powered blaster rifles.

  Not that they’d done them any good.

  The first man they came to had been decapitated. The wound was horrific — instead of a clean slice like Kyra was fond of making, this man’s head had been ripped off by brute force. Ella made a careful examination as they passed, but Tris could feel his stomach rebelling.

  The other two men appeared to have suffered blunt-force trauma; one had his skull staved in as though he’d been hit with a sledgehammer, whilst the other had crumpled around his broken ribs. Both had been dead for a matter of hours.

  And still the blood trail led on.

  “It’s thicker here,” Ella pointed out. “The assailant was heading in the opposite direction.”

  Good, Tris thought. Hopefully he got out before we got in.