Warden's Vengeance Read online

  “A bold strategy,” Kreon observed. “Might I ask what role we are expected to play in this war you’ve started?”

  Àurea seemed too excited to take offence. “Absolutely.” And she focussed her attention on Tris. “If Tristan agrees, the Folly will spearhead the attack on Helicon Prime. My people outfitted her for precisely this reason; her super-weapon will give us the edge we need to punch through their defences.”

  Tris made an ‘o’ with his mouth, but didn’t trust himself to volunteer an opinion. It sounded an awful lot like the last desperate ploy of a doomed rebellion. A sort of, ‘go down fighting’ type approach; commendable for sure, but not exactly the end he had in mind for his beloved battle station.

  Or his mother.

  “Askarra?” he said, as an idea occurred to him.

  “Yes Tristan?”

  It was just possible she could get them all off the hook. “Do you have a way of analysing this plan? The attack on Helicon Prime, I mean. Will it work?”

  “I have insufficient data on which to base my calculations,” the computer chimed. “However, the military channels I monitor have seen dramatically increased traffic in recent days. This is indicative of the widespread engagement reported by Àurea. If she can provide me with statistics of the military forces available to the Ingumend, I would be able to apply my equation with a reasonable degree of accuracy.”

  Tris frowned. It wasn’t exactly the answer he’d hoped for. But Gerian’s death wouldn’t suddenly free these people from tyranny. The Keepers of the Faith probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid, and their Church would be full of men every bit as evil, all angling for the job of Chief Oppressor. If Tris really did want to do some good here, to help change things for the better, it was going to take more than gunning down an unarmed man as he lay dying.

  He glanced at Kreon, to find the Warden studying him intently.

  Your decision, Tristan.

  It was so rare to hear Kreon using his Gift that it took Tris a moment to place it. Why me?

  Your ship. Your rules. And I see you are developing an appetite for command.

  Tris mentally smacked himself in the forehead. Who told you?

  The only reply was a dry chuckle.

  “Okay.” Tris ran a hand through his hair; there really was too much of it lately. “We’ll run the numbers, and if there’s a chance we can pull it off, we’re in.”

  Àurea beamed at him. “You have my thanks, Tris. And when we win, the gratitude of all my people. The captains of the various cells are meeting in two days. They will be able to provide us with a full accounting of the forces under their command. If we leave now, we could arrive ahead of the meeting and make sure there are no Church forces lying in wait.”

  Tris mulled that over. They had no current course planned, now that Kreon and Loader were safe. Indestructible blue robots and insidious Black Ships would just have to wait. “Okay. Let’s do it. Where are they meeting?”

  “The one place no-one in the Church would think to look for them!” Àurea was practically quivering with excitement as she unveiled her plan. “On the holy world of Oracle.”

  And that was when Tris realised he’d been played.

  He accompanied Kyra to the medical unit to make her apology. Kreon came along too, under orders from Sera to get his injuries checked out. Leaving Kyra to work out what she was going to say, Tris fell in beside the old Warden. “You knew.” He didn’t make it a question. “You knew they would be meeting on Oracle. Right by that Portal you’re so desperate to chuck me through.”

  “Indeed.” Kreon grinned wolfishly at him. “You may recall that I have a certain fondness for information.”

  “But how did you know? You’ve been stuck in a glowing green box for the last two days.”

  “Ah, but this meeting was being arranged before I was captured. Àurea has been receiving messages about it on her private network.”

  “And she only told you?”

  Kreon gave him a knowing look. “Tristan, she is my daughter. You can’t honestly believe I’d allow her to receive encrypted communications without reading them first!”

  Lukas was awake and lounging on the hospital bed when they reached him. “Ah!” he said, when he saw Kyra. “Come back for another bout of domestic violence, have we?” He rubbed his jaw for emphasis; Tris could tell he was milking this.

  Kyra didn’t mince her words. “Lukas, I want to thank you for…” she waved a hand at herself, “whatever you did. I didn’t know you were a doctor. I’m sorry I punched you.” She paused for a second. “No, screw that! I’m not sorry. I enjoyed that part.” She blew out a breath. “But I appreciate, it probably wasn’t necessary. So, you know, if there’s anything I can do to make it up…”

  Lukas leaned forward, rolling his shoulders with a crackle of popping joints. He put a hand to his neck and squeezed it thoughtfully. “Actually, there is something you could do for me.”

  Kyra clenched both fists and glared at him. “You say ‘massage’, you lose a testicle.”

  Lukas plumped his pillow instead, and leaned back into it. “I really bother you, eh?”

  For a moment Kyra looked like she would storm out; then she made a visible effort to relax. “Look, I don’t like you ‘cause you’re lazy. You’ve obviously got talents. No-one gets to look after Ingumen’s daughter without being able to protect her. So why aren’t you out there? Why are you wasting your life as a babysitter when your people are fighting — and dying — for their freedom?”

  Lukas swung his legs off the bed and sat up. His borrowed shirt protested at the movement, struggling to contain him. “Yeah, okay. But flip that on its head for a second. Who’s wasting their life? Look at you. I just spent eight hours digging microscopic bits of metal out of your body, and I can tell from the state of everyone’s faces that you’re all about to rush off into another life-and-death struggle. Is that clever? Because I could do that. But I like being in once piece. I like not having assholes shooting at me. Plus, I get to sit around and watch cartoons all day, so who’s winning really?”

  Kyra turned a shade redder, muttered something foul under her breath and stalked out.

  Tris watched her go. “That went well. But hey, isn’t Ana a bit old to watch cartoons?” he asked.

  “Ana?” Lukas mugged surprise. “Who said anything about Ana? She hates cartoons!”

  Kreon was still wearing the blood-stained white overall he’d had on in the stasis booth. Now he peeled back the flimsy material just enough to show Lukas the wounds he’d sustained during his capture. Lukas snapped back into doctor mode, poking at Kreon’s pallid flesh with what looked suspiciously like a pen. “They don’t seem to have bled much,” he noted absently.

  “I rarely bleed,” Kreon explained.

  “Mm. Well, no sign of infection, anyway.”

  “I am immune to infection.”

  “Mm-hm. Are you in pain?”

  “Constantly.”

  “Well then!” Lukas threw a what-the-fuck glance at Tris. “Looks like we’re done here. I could use a drink. Or six. Anyone interested?”

  “Alcohol has no effect on me,” Kreon admitted. “And ALI has insisted that I make restoring Loader’s functionality a priority.”

  “Damn!” Lukas clapped Tris on the shoulder. “Looks like it’s just us then?”

  “Sorry mate,” Tris said, heading for the door. “I’ve got a hot date!”

  * * *

  Ella writhed on top of him, her eyes closed, her face a mask of ecstasy.

  Tiny moans escaped as her as she moved up and down. His hands explored her body, his fingers dark against her alabaster skin. She threw her head back, and he felt his pleasure rising to match hers. He squeezed her breasts, massaging the soft skin and she leaned into him, her back arching. When he felt her quiver he thrust upward, once, twice, again, again, as she let out gasps of delight—

  And then it was over.

  Tris collapsed back, his muscles going limp as his head soared up through
the ceiling above him.

  Ahhhh!

  There was no feeling like it.

  Ella rolled off him, pulling the blankets up over both of them. “It still weirds me out a little,” she yawned, “doing this in here.”

  Tris didn’t need her to elaborate; one of the more obvious drawbacks of having his mum inhabit the station was that hiding anything from her was impossible. “Honestly, I think she’s okay with it. She gave you the command codes, remember? And I asked her to suspend monitoring in here before you came.”

  Ella wriggled round to face him, propping herself on an elbow. “Which time?”

  “Oh, no, I meant…” he saw the flash of her teeth, and realised it was a joke. “Oh, God!”

  Mischief was written all over her face. “God? He can definitely hear us. Lucky I’m a priestess! Do you want to confess your sins?”

  Tris held his hands up in surrender. “It’s not me! You’re the naughty one!”

  She wriggled around in the bed, pressing her back against him. “Mmm! That’s what they told me at the orphanage. ‘That Ella! She’s such a naughty little madam!’ Ha ha! Who knew? They were right all along.”

  Tris put his hands behind his head and sighed contentedly. No matter what else had happened, he never felt better than when he was lying here like this, with Ella snuggled up beside him.

  Well, except when she was on top of him…

  “Tris?” Her voice was suddenly serious. “What’s this?”

  He looked over as she picked up a tiny square of metal from his bedside table. The memory engram! With everything else going on, he’d forgotten it was there.

  “It’s my dad’s,” he told her. “He left it to me. I found it in a bank vault in Bristol.”

  “Ohhhh. You know what it is?”

  “His memories?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got one of these inside of me. They record everything…”

  “Oh, right! Like at the trial on Atalia, when you used Evie’s to prove she killed Erek.”

  Ella shook her head. “No sweetie, not like this. Evie has the basic version we all get before our first mission. I got the top-of-the-line model when I… well, it’s classified.” She smiled, softening the moment. “But we have rigs in the Atla-Ra Temple for replaying them. There’s a library — all through history the very best Priestesses have carried them, and we use their memories as part of our tuition.”

  “Wow! Cool. I had this crazy thought… Kreon was talking about putting stuff in my head. Well, it was my idea, actually — knowledge I mean, about the galaxy. Stuff I need to know to become a Warden. And I wondered if, maybe I could put this in my head instead? Dad must have known all that stuff. If I had his memories…” he trailed off when he saw the look on her face.

  “I’m sorry Tris, that’s not how it works. All our brains encode memories differently from one another. A person can’t access someone else’s memories like that.”

  “Not even me? I’m a clone, remember? Genetically identical?”

  “I don’t think so. Your brains would have developed differently, even if they started out the same.”

  “Oh. Crap.” Tris made a face. But he was determined not to be defeated so easily. “How hard would it be to try?”

  Ella blew a red ringlet out of her eyes. “Not too hard. You’ve got a top-notch surgeon on board. But I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  “I won’t be. I know it’s a long shot.”

  Ella put a hand to his face, stroking his cheek. “Be careful, though. I like your brain the way it is.”

  “Ha! Yeah, I’ll try.”

  “And don’t break the engram, either. That one’s state of the art. It’s worth more than Kreon’s ship!”

  20

  Tris woke up feeling like a million dollars.

  Sex was the best tonic in the galaxy.

  He lay there for a few moments, savouring the rare feeling of contentedness that suffused him.

  He was finally clean. He wasn’t too sore from his injuries, and he didn’t have a single firefight scheduled all day.

  And to top it all off, Ella hadn’t vanished on some mysterious errand.

  She was still asleep next to him, breathing softly. The sight of those fiery curls spilling across his pillow made his heart skip a beat. God, she is beautiful! And mysterious. And dangerous. And smart, and funny… What the hell does she see in me?

  Probably best not to ask her that. Just in case she came to her senses.

  His first job for the day was to visit Lukas. He was serious about getting his dad’s memory engram implanted. What was the worst that could happen? Well, apart from the obvious side-effects of having his head cut open. He had no doubt the big man was up to the task, but he still hadn’t mentioned it to Kreon — despite his promise to Kyra that the Warden would get to pass judgement on all things engram-related.

  He’d want those memories as much as I do — maybe more! Would he try to replace Mum in the Folly’s computer? If he thought Dad knew something about the Black Ships, he probably would.

  This explained his reticence to go to Kreon, but only part of it. The truth was, he felt that his Dad’s memories were intended for him alone — that if Mikelatz had wanted his old master poking around inside his head, he’d have left the chip somewhere Kreon could find it.

  He dressed quietly and slipped out. There was no way he could do it without waking a trained assassin, but Ella had the grace to ignore him, turning over and burrowing into her pillow.

  Man, I really tired her out last night!

  He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride.

  Lukas was an easy man to find. Not only was he physically huge, he was a creature of habit; Tris knew he’d be in the gym for his morning work-out, so he didn’t need to ask his mother.

  Lukas was pounding a punch bag when he arrived, so he waited patiently off to one side while the big man finished his routine.

  “Hey Tris!” Lukas stopped for a breather, a sheen of sweat coating his powerful torso. The man seemed to have an aversion to shirts.

  “Hi Lukas. I was wondering if I could ask you a favour?”

  “Yeah, mate. What can I do for you?” He winked. “Girl trouble?”

  “No, thanks! For once I think I actually have that one covered.”

  “Yeah you do!” Lukas clapped him on the shoulder so hard he staggered a few steps. “She’s a fox! Well done there.”

  “Thanks,” Tris said, rubbing his shoulder. “So, how are you at cutting into people’s heads?”

  Lukas had picked up a towel to rub himself down, but he froze mid-motion. “What?” His voice came out as a growl, low and dangerous.

  “Memory engrams,” Tris explained quickly. “Fitting them, specifically?”

  Lukas relaxed. “Oh, right. Sorry mate. I just get touchy around… certain subjects.”

  “Oh?” Tris felt his curiosity flare up, but he didn’t want to alienate the big man by pressing him further. “Yeah, I’ve got the implant, and Ella reckons it’s a really good one. I was hoping you’d be able to stick it in for me.”

  Lukas thought about that for a while. “Yeah,” he said eventually, “don’t see why not. The set up here is decent enough. And if it’s a high-end model, it’ll do most of the work itself.”

  “Great! How long will it take?”

  “The op?” Lukas busied himself with the towel again. “Not much more than an hour. But you’ll need to take care of it for a while. No head-butting people!”

  “Fair enough. And I’ll stay clear of handstands, too.”

  Lukas grimaced. “Yeah, at least until you get a bit better.”

  Ella still hadn’t surfaced by the time Lukas was ready. Tris had decided not to tell anyone else, for fear they’d rush in and stop him at the last minute. Certainly Kyra would have something to say about it; Kreon would almost certainly veto it, on the grounds that vital information could be lost if the engram got damaged. He couldn’t see Sera or Àurea caring much, but at least they’d given
Lukas the day off, preferring to spend as much time with Ana as they could.

  As he lay on the gurney, Tris briefly considered using the Gift to send Kyra a message. If he never woke up from this… well, she’d get to carve ‘I told you so’ into his tombstone. But Lukas had said the risks were minimal. In all honesty, the greatest risk was in him chickening out, so he decided to press on as soon as possible, before nerves or common sense had time to get involved.

  “Why aren’t you working as a doctor?” Tris asked, more to calm his mind than anything else. “I get why you don’t want to be a soldier, especially when your side is getting its ass kicked by those… monstrosities. That is some sick, twisted shit right there. But you could have worked in the Pit as a doctor. I know you like those two nurses…”

  Lukas stared at him for a long time, something like old pain flickering across his face. Then he tapped a few icons on the medical talos, pushed it out of the way, and stepped in closer. “I was a surgeon, for a long time,” he said quietly. “I had quite a promising career. But then people noticed — the wrong kind of people. I don’t normally talk about this, but seeing as you’re about to go under my knife, I guess you deserve to know. I was made an apprentice Sculptor. Promoted, really — not that I had much choice. Those monstrosities you mentioned? The ones that killed everyone in the Pit? I used to help make them.” He gave a long, shuddering sigh. “That’s why I ran away. I didn’t tell the resistance. They’d label me a traitor — the worst kind of degenerate, for what I’ve done. And they’d be right. I should have left sooner, as soon as I found out what my new job entailed. But I was scared. Sculptors aren’t the kind of people you mess with. And once you’ve seen what happens on their tables… it’s very hard not to imagine that happening to you, if you step out of line.” He shrugged and turned away, checking something on the medical talos. Tris could see his shoulders shaking, as the big man wrestled with emotions he wasn’t comfortable sharing. After a few moments he seemed to recover, rubbing his neck and rolling his head around with an audible crack. “So, now you know. And Àurea does, too — I could never keep anything from her. She puts a lot of trust in me.” Lukas spun suddenly, a razor-sharp scalpel in his grip, pointing straight at Tris. There was a demonic glint in his eye. “How about you? You ready to trust me?”