Warden's Vengeance Read online

  “I learned a great deal from that construct during my brief incarceration,” Kreon said, turning towards her. “None of it was good. The threat Gerian was describing is real; I believe we have been mistaken in our assumptions about it. Unfortunately, for now that must take second place to this new disaster. However unwittingly, Gerian has unleashed upon the galaxy a being of unbridled power. We must seek to understand its motivations, and discover a way to dissuade it if they prove malign.”

  Tris looked from Àurea to Sera to Ella, all the way at the back of the lab. “Chase the robot,” he summarised.

  “Indeed.” Kreon hobbled towards the exit.

  “We tracked it from the shuttle bay,” Ella spoke up. “From the markings, I’d say it fought its way there, and left in a shuttle.”

  Kreon had reached the console where Tris had placed Loader. The Warden picked up the damaged container gingerly, cradling Loader in one hand while he peered in through the holes torn it his housing. “I trust you are fully functional in there?” His gaze lost focus, as he communicated with the transceiver implanted in his abdomen.

  Tris found his gaze returning to the spot where Gerian lay sprawled on the deck. Had the man been right? Tris had always known he had a dark side — who didn’t? Gerian had clearly embraced his. Part of Tris refused to admit they were even remotely similar — that given the same choices Gerian had been offered, his path through life would have been entirely different. Because Gerian was a sadistic, murderous bastard… with identical DNA to Tris. And he could nature-slash-nurture this crap all day long, but it wouldn’t change one deeply concerning fact: Gerian had seen the darkness in him, and had called him out on it. And Tris had killed him for it.

  Kreon’s abrupt announcement shook him out of his reverie. “Loader has informed me of an extenuating circumstance. He requires us all to take a short trip in order to better appreciate our predicament.”

  Sera glanced at him, curiously. Her hostility had vanished once the old man was up and about; had it been concern for him that had made her so spiky?

  Interesting.

  Tris followed on, content to let any semblance of his leadership lapse now that Kreon was back amongst them.

  The old Warden led them out through the blood-soaked wreckage, and into a small elevator. The journey was short; this ship couldn’t have more than three of four decks, at least one of which had to be full of all the mechanical stuff. As it turned out, most of the bottom deck consisted of a single vast hangar, which the lift car deposited them in. Pallets of equipment and supplies lined the walls, along with loaders to move them around. In the centre, three small bubble-shaped vehicles were parked around a circular doorway built into the deck.

  “Submarines?” Tris hazarded. They had that look about them, with a wide expanse of curved glass forming most of the front of each craft. Kreon led them inside without comment, still carrying Loader tucked under one arm. The talos must have been piggybacking on Kreon’s transponder, using it to control things like lifts and doors. Tris was really glad to have him back.

  “Exploration pods,” Sera corrected him, “though the concept is the same.”

  All five of them (six including the lunchbox containing Loader) squeezed into a single bubble-ship, and it lifted off as soon as the door was closed. It rose smoothly and hovered over the hole in the floor, descending through a shimmering forcefield that Tris guessed was keeping the air inside. As they cleared the hull of the ship, he felt his boots magnetise to the deck with a sharp click. Must be leaving the artificial gravity behind. The vehicle’s headlight came on, throwing their surroundings into stark relief. Through the wraparound glass windscreen he could see smooth rock on all sides, as the ship took them into what he guessed was a mine shaft.

  “Straight as an arrow,” Sera commented, as they continued to descend. “Laser-bored?”

  Kreon shook his head. “Too wide.”

  The featureless rock slid by on all sides for long minutes, the craft flying smooth and silent. Tris was wondering how deep into the moon they’d gone, and was starting to feel a bit uneasy about it, when Kreon announced their imminent arrival.

  “Loader informs me that our situation will become self-evident.”

  Tris opened his mouth to make a joke about that — and let it hang, as the bubble-ship finally emerged into a vast, airless cavern.

  They must have hollowed out the entire moon, Tris thought, as the ship’s powerful spotlight panned around like the beam from a lonely caver’s head torch. It barely penetrated the gloom, which stretched off infinitely in all directions.

  Still moving, the light picked out a series of giant structures in front of them. Tris gasped; enormous metal racks revealed themselves, their faceted struts glinting wickedly. Loader kept the ship moving, spinning slowly to take in the scene all around them.

  And it was terrifying.

  The racks stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction; they dominated the view through the windscreen, disappearing off into the distance.

  And each rack was filled with sarcophaguses, identical to the smashed one in the ship above.

  Only these ones weren’t smashed.

  They were intact.

  Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of them…

  As Tris craned his neck to look around, he could see the ominous steel shapes continue on into the bottomless abyss below them.

  Make that millions.

  Tris’ mouth was still open. He closed it, licking lips that had suddenly gone dry. “Tell me again,” he said to Kreon, “what we do if that robot has bad intentions?”

  19

  The journey back to Gerian’s research vessel was a quiet one.

  Tris was wrapped in bleak thoughts, both about what he’d just witnessed and — more importantly — what he’d just done.

  Fighting bad guys was something he was rapidly getting used to, and he’d managed to justify it as an essential part of the job.

  But what he’d done to Gerian was an execution.

  Tris wanted to step up, he really did. He was tired of being the clueless idiot from Earth who bumbled around after everyone, asking stupid questions. He wanted to prove himself as a worthy member of Kreon’s team; as a thinker, as a fighter, and eventually as a leader.

  But at what price? The situations he was finding himself in rarely gave him a chance to think. He was reacting, quite often to life-threatening danger — and letting his base instincts rule him in the process.

  Sometimes death was inevitable; monsters like the Transgressors couldn’t be reasoned with, and it could be argued that a swift end was a mercy to them. But the thugs who’d attacked him and Kyra in Bristol? Did they deserve to die? What if someone had been trapped in the building that he had so casually set ablaze? He seemed to have transitioned from reluctant warrior to stone-cold killer in the course of a few battles. What the hell is happening to me?

  It was one thing to be a crack shot. One thing to practise his staff moves until they were flawless. But then to take those skills, and to use them to end the lives of other human beings, even ones who deserved it…

  Tris rubbed his hands through the unruly mop his hair had grown into. Am I losing myself? If so, what am I becoming? More like my father? Or more like Gerian?

  On the walk back to the lab-ship’s docking bay, Ella sidled up next to him and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, grateful for her company — even if she was yet another trained killer.

  It was like a bad play about the Law of Attraction.

  Surround yourself with the kind of people you want to become…

  He moved closer, so he was touching her hip to hip.

  Ella was good people, he was sure of it. No matter what her job description said.

  Their shuttle was first to dock with the Folly, landing next to Wayfinder like a toy car beside a truck. By the time the shuttle with Kreon, Sera and Àurea aboard had landed, ALI was already lowering her ramp expectantly.

  Gathering outside, they
all trooped in to reunite her with Loader. It was a remarkably subdued affair; once cables hooked the battered lunch box into the cockpit console, all the rejoicing was done in binary.

  Ella looked back and forth between the two for a couple of seconds, while the silence grew. “Aww,” she said at last, “So sweet!”

  But Loader was needed elsewhere. Fetching a satchel of tools from his cabin, Kreon disconnected the talos with the promise of patching him up as best he could. ALI cheerfully reminded them all that her railguns were still active, and suggested that they make reconnecting the pair of them a high priority.

  Their next stop was the bridge for a full debriefing, but Kreon gave the others leave to drop off their gear and check on Ana. Desperate as he was to take a shower, Tris followed the Warden up in the turbolift, his hand still entwined with Ella’s. They’d get some time alone eventually, but it would have to wait until after the current crisis was debated.

  Still, returning to the Folly felt like coming home, and Tris knew Askarra would be waiting for him on the bridge. He couldn’t exactly start bawling his heart out to her in front of everyone else, but just hearing her voice would do him a power of good.

  He was in the lead when the doors swished open on the bridge — revealing Kyra, lounging in the command chair.

  “Great news everyone!” she said, as they filed in.

  “What?” Tris asked her, when no-one else did.

  Kyra gave him a funny look, and pointed emphatically to herself. “Me! I’m alive! Wow, who took a crap in your breakfast?”

  Tris tried to smile at her, and failed. “Good to see you, Kyra. It’s just… it’s been a tough day.”

  Kyra’s eyes narrowed and she made a show of counting the group on her fingers. “The ladies are okay though? No-one died?”

  “Not one of us.”

  Kreon placed a supportive hand on Tris’ shoulder. “We encountered Gerian in the ship below us. That man has caused enough pain to fill ten lifetimes. Tristan was forced to put an end to it.”

  “I murdered him in cold blood,” Tris added glumly.

  Kyra merely looked at him, making ‘Mm-hm’ noises. “Oh, sorry!” she said, a few seconds later. “I keep forgetting that’s still new for you. Do you want a high-five or something?”

  Tris snorted and looked away. He could always count on Kyra to put his troubles into perspective. If the few facts he’d gleaned about her childhood were true, that chick was seriously damaged goods. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he told her, summoning half a smile.

  “No thanks to you!” she wagged a finger. “I can’t believe you left me alone up here with that creep Lukas. You know he was watching me when I woke up? Just sitting there, leering at me. Not even trying to hide it.”

  Tris mugged sympathy. “No way, really? Sorry about that. Where is he?”

  Kyra shook her head in disgust. “Still in the med-unit, sleeping it off.”

  “He’s drunk?”

  “No. He made an inappropriate comment and I knocked him the fuck out. Ugh!” She shook herself.

  Tris chuckled at the image. “What, did he tell you gymnastics are for girls?”

  “Hell no! He said something about putting his hands inside me while I was unconscious. I think he was trying to be funny, the sick bastard.”

  Tris furrowed his brow at her. “Um, Kyra? You do know he was your surgeon, right? Like, he literally had his hands inside you, fixing all the damage Evie did.”

  “What? Why the hell would—? Didn’t the med-talos just—?”

  “No, sorry. You were too badly injured. Luckily for us, Lukas cut short a promising career as a surgeon when he joined the Ingumend.”

  Kyra stared at him, a range of emotions flickering across her face. “Oh, for Sydon’s SAKE!” she hissed, finally. “That means I owe that slimy bastard an apology?”

  It wasn’t long before Sera and Àurea rejoined them on the bridge. Àurea had stripped off most of her armour, and was smiling beneath her half-mask. Spending time with her daughter always put her in a good mood, and it had an almost magical effect on Sera. Still fully armoured, she strode in surrounded by an aura of joyous contentment. Tris could almost imagine walking in on them one day, to find one of the galaxy’s most feared warlords bouncing Ana on her knee and singing ‘Baa-baa Black Sheep’.

  When the others arrived, Ella excused herself to go and visit her sister, a chore Tris was glad to be spared. There was evidently still some tension between Ella and Sera, even after a successful mission together. In all honesty, he shared his girlfriend’s misgivings, but he didn’t have the luxury of being able to avoid Sera. Not when she seemed to be making herself at home.

  Kreon had spent the time setting up an interface for Loader, with the slightly confusing result that both the ancient talos and the spirit of Tristan’s mother were communicating via the speakers concealed in the ceiling. Loader adopted a deeper bass drawl, which at least provided some contrast.

  “You have my thanks, and ALI’s eternal gratitude,” he said, his disembodied voice drifting down on them like the word of God.

  Kreon cracked a rare smile. “You are most welcome, old friend. Now tell me, what is that place down there?”

  “It was the tomb of my people,” the talos explained. “Long ago, when they sought to escape the beings you call Black Ships, my people retreated into mechanical bodies fashioned by their most skilled artisans.”

  “That explains the lack of on-board weapons,” Sera suggested. “A body made for life, not combat.”

  “The construct you witnessed was designed in imitation of their species,” Loader continued. “As with all biological organisms, a certain degree of pride and self-image were incorporated into their avatars. However, although these artificial forms were successful in allowing them to survive the threat, they proved ultimately unfulfilling.”

  “You speak of ‘they’,” Àurea pointed out. “Are you not one of them?”

  “Only in as much as I am one of you,” Loader drawled, and Tris thought he could detect a note of sadness in the talos’ tone. “I was manufactured by these beings in an attempt to create a new generation. The loss of their biological bodies had robbed them of the chance to reproduce in the conventional sense. Too late, they discovered that in transcending their mortality, they had abandoned the very thing that gave them purpose.”

  “No children,” Sera said softly. “No future.”

  “The experiments were a failure,” Loader continued. “Very few of us evolved a true consciousness, being more akin to subservient automatons than true descendants. It was only my extended period of solitude followed by my long acquaintance with Lord Anakreon that led to my current degree of sentience.”

  “What happened to the rest of your species?” Àurea asked. “How did they come to occupy that… place?”

  “That information is unavailable to me, unfortunately. My creators persisted in their current form for a protracted span of time before I was brought online. At some point afterwards, they appear to have… stopped.”

  “They gave up,” Kreon said, his voice still rough from his time in Gerian’s machine. “As true mortality was denied them, I believe they voluntarily surrendered their operational status. Choosing oblivion has always been the last response to despair.”

  “A suicide pact?” Tris spoke up. “They just put themselves to sleep?”

  “Indeed. With no end in sight, and no reason to continue, expiration was inevitable.”

  “And now… what? You think they could come back?”

  Kreon rubbed a hand over his bald scalp. “In this, Tristan, your guess is as good as mine. Loader?”

  “Unknown,” the talos drawled. “The consciousness that was accidentally revived in Gerian’s lab may resolve to return to his former status. Or he may decide to explore the realm in which he has awoken, searching perhaps for a reason to remain operational. If he should discover such a purpose, it is possible he will attempt to reignite his species’ passion for continued
existence.”

  “And that,” Tris concluded, “is when the shit really hits the fan.”

  Kyra was still lounging in the command chair, one leg hooked over the armrest, listening with a bemused look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I must have missed something. Did someone say robots?”

  The rest of the discussion was fairly subdued. The possibility of destroying the tomb was floated and dismissed almost immediately as impossible; even the Folly’s new Sanctuary-killing mega-laser didn’t have the power to take apart the entire moon. Dispersing the sarcophagi across a wider area was a possibility, but one that required access to a huge number of ships and a veritable army of personnel. Àurea promised to do what she could, but pointed out that her Ingumend fighters had more pressing concerns. Ever since the battle of the Pit, she’d been trying to coordinate with the remains of her shattered resistance. Now, amidst widespread reports of mass-defections and counter-attacks, she finally had something concrete to share.

  “The Church came down too hard this time,” she told them, her expression one of barely-suppressed glee. “I received more messages when we arrived back here, and a consensus has been reached. The remaining cells are combining their forces for a targeted strike on Helicon Prime. We hope to wipe out the headquarters of the Church, a fortress they call the Temple Mount, and kill the Keepers of the Faith in one fell swoop.”

  Tris gave a whistle. “Helicon Prime is your capital, right? Where all the rich and powerful types live? Isn’t that, like, the single most heavily defended planet in the universe?”

  “Ordinarily, yes. But the Empire is in turmoil. Massing so many of their Sanctuary-class battle stations to invade Atalia has left numerous gaps in the Church’s defences.” She glanced at her mother; Sera nodded, as though to confirm that had been her intention all along. “That’s what allowed the uprising to take place. While Gerian was hunting down the bases he tortured out of me, many other worlds underwent their own revolutions. The returning fleet is being distributed to counter as many of these breakaways as possible — and that leaves precious few resources to defend Helicon Prime. Particularly since the Folly here destroyed the Sanctuary stationed in orbit.”