But it was home.
The Empress rallied her admirers and led them back to swirl protectively beyond the new debris field.
Thank-you so much, Tris told her, echoing the wave of gratitude he felt from Kyra.
It was no bother at all, worm-of-indeterminate-hue, she replied. These males have been searching for a way to prove themselves to me. I think they enjoyed killing Lemurians.
Tris sent her a wave of positive affirmation, but something occurred to him. I thought your people had a peace treaty with the Lemurians?
We did, she chortled, the mental trace of a rancid stench accompanying her laughter. But it seems my would-be suitors have destroyed their Tower of Justice, along with several of this world’s most significant buildings. From a species as warlike as my own, one can only assume that would constitute an act of war. She chuckled again, the associated scent making Tris want to gag. Men! What can you do?
With the Siszar nestships formed up around them, and long-range scans showing large numbers of enemy ships heading their way from the surface, Kreon finally gave the order to get out of there.
The Folly and the Wayfinder made the grav-jump in tandem, Askarra sending over coordinates that ALI fed into the nav system. The seamless interaction of one AI with another was fantastically efficient. Tris just hoped the two rather egotistical supercomputers would get on.
As the stars winked out in front of them and they vanished into the vastness of space, Tris slumped back in his seat and let himself relax.
They were free.
They found Sera in the escape pod, where she’d stashed Àurea’s unconscious body. Tris was surprised no-one else had thought of it; Sera was, after all, a consummate survivor. She showed no qualms about abandoning the rest of them in a last ditch attempt to keep her daughter safe — but none of them expected anything else. They moved the girl to the med-bay and got her safely strapped down to a gurney. The medical talos began its appraisal, returning a verdict that Àurea would survive, and that she was mostly weak from dehydration, malnourishment and loss of blood. Added to whatever psychological torture she’d been undergoing, and combined with the effects of Sera’s bizarre sonic weapon, it had simply proved too much for her.
It had been, Tris reflected, quite a harrowing afternoon.
With victory dragged kicking and screaming from the jaws of inevitable defeat, even Sera admitted to being impressed.
“Okay then, tell me,” she challenged the Warden, as they stood around Àurea’s bed. “How did you break the ship out of lock-up?”
“Wayfinder’s computer is now inhabited by an artificial intelligence program named ALI,” Kreon said, still sounding chagrinned. “She had sufficient control over the ship to extricate it from wherever the Lemurians had impounded her. Loader sent me a coded message explaining her strategy, and his remote link to my transceiver allowed him to coordinate her escape with our own.”
Tris looked from one of them to the other, then raised a hand. “Ah, Kreon… where is Loader?”
The Warden stared back at him, his face registering shock. “I… I have no idea. His housing was not in the evidence case in the Chamber of Justice.”
Tris felt the blood drain from his face. “Then… he’s still down there?”
Kreon nodded gravely. “That appears to be the case.”
Kyra looked horrified. “The tower is gone,” she said quietly. “The Empress shared an image with me… a million tons of burning rubble.”
“No.” Tris shook his head. “He can’t be gone. We can’t lose him again!”
“I thought I destroyed that pesky talos,” Sera, mused.
Tris glared murder at her. “He saved our lives more times than I can count! He saved us from you. And in case you didn’t notice, he just saved your ass right alongside ours!”
Sera waited for him to finish. “He was a brave warrior,” she relented. “I am sorry for your loss.”
Kreon reached out a hand and placed it on her armoured shoulder. “You freed him to become more than he ever could have.”
Tris hung his head and let silent tears flow.
34
Oktavius glanced at his monitor in disbelief.
On it, the view from a remote camera showed a scene of desperation.
The last of the Wardens’ fleet, now barely worthy of the name, were strung out in a single defensive line. Every pilot, every crewman aboard those ships, was preparing to sell his or her life as dearly as possible.
To protect him.
To protect Atalia.
For all the good it would do.
The crimson-hulled cruisers of Lord Demios’ traitors massed for the kill, now outnumbering the ragged defenders many times over. Despite everything Oktavius had done, despite every piece of exotic technology his Wardens had brought to bear, they were still going to die.
Because alongside the red fleet and its murderous commander sat an even more impressive armada — sleek black orbs, almost impossible to see without the computer enhancing the image. The spherical battle stations were amongst the most powerful vessels in the galaxy; few who encountered one lived to tell the tale. But facing Oktavius’ brave warriors were dozens of them, their combined destructive potential more than anything the High Warden had ever seen.
And he’d seen a lot.
The story on his display, however, was something new.
The red fleet was advancing cautiously, prepared to deal with any last-minute doomsday weapons Oktavius had left to deploy—
But the Lemurian spheres had stopped.
En masse, their progress had halted abruptly, as though someone commanding them had just had second thoughts. Oktavius couldn’t imagine what would cause them to hesitate; surely they had confidence in the overwhelming firepower of their vessels? Were they stopping to allow Demios to engage first? Perhaps the renegade Warden had convinced the Lemurians to let him be the one to crush Atalia.
Or perhaps somehow the Lemurians knew about the failsafe? About the self-destruct sequence which even now was cued up on a console to Oktavius’ left. He had determined to wait until Demios’ forces had landed before setting the countdown, ensuring that as many of them as possible were wiped out in the ensuing blast.
But the Lemurians couldn’t know about that, could they? Even his fellow Councillors, the members of the elite First Circle, did not know. It was the High Warden’s prerogative alone, the details left in a heavily encrypted message passed down to one’s successor. Oktavius had already recorded his, shortly after his inauguration, though now it looked like he would be the last to inherit such a burden.
All of which musing didn’t bring him any closer to explaining what he was looking at.
Why have they stopped?
Then, in perfect synchronisation, the deadly spheres began to turn.
“My Lord?” someone called from across the room, as the rest of the command staff stared into their monitors, equally confused.
Then the battle stations opened fire.
Not on Atalia, or on the handful of ships defending it.
On Demios.
As one, the spheres unleashed a devastating fusillade, their potent laser weapons carving through the red ships like they were made of plastic.
In seconds the fleet was ablaze, explosions blossoming like wildflowers amidst the meadow of crimson.
It was the most beautiful thing Oktavius had ever seen.
He wasn’t alone; at least two of the command staff started sobbing, sheer relief overwhelming them.
Oktavius managed to keep his expression firm and his gaze fixed on the viewscreen as the Lemurian ships, their work apparently done, about-faced and jumped away into nothingness.
Then, as more of Demios’ ships began to break apart, the survivors driving hard for deep space, he finally let out the breath he’d been holding. His body was trembling, he realised, as the adrenaline fled his bloodstream. He sagged back into the command chair, a comfort he hadn’t allowed himself all day. He reached up, un
fastening the collar of his jumpsuit, then mopped sweat off his brow with a cuff.
“Ah, sir?” Rufine interrupted.
“Yes?” Oktavius didn’t have the heart to chastise him. “What is it?”
“We have an incoming signal for you, highest priority.”
“Who is it?”
“Lord Anakreon.”
Oktavius felt his jaw drop in disbelief. “WHAT? You have got to be kidding me! Why the—? Where has—? What—?”
He closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply to regain his composure. When he opened them again, Rufine recoiled from the anger he saw there.
“Now, of all times, that turncoat deigns to contact us? Put it through to the ready room next door Rufine, I’ll take it in there.”
And with as much dignity as he could muster, he stood and swept from the room.
* * *
Kreon could tell Oktavius was furious from the blank expression he wore.
He let the man rant for a few minutes, about the war, the recent battle, and the probability that Kreon’s parents had been unmarried.
Eventually, Oktavius ran out of expletives and merely glared into the lens, his rage transmitted across the light-years without losing a drop.
“You seem in good health, High Warden,” Kreon observed.
“No thanks to you, you little—”
“And Atalia itself is essentially undamaged?”
“Yes, well, the fortress survived due to the Siszar intervention.”
“Ah! My allies arrived in time then. Is there a Mercenary captain named Sharki amongst them?”
“Yes, but that’s not… Wait. The Siszar are with you?”
“I have the Empress of the River of Silver Flashes with me now. I could put her on, but unfortunately she can only communicate via the Gift. Kyra sends her regards, however.”
“Kreon!” The High Warden sounded more exasperated now, his anger winding down. “This isn’t a social call! I’ve been trying to contact you for over a week. Thousands of people died here defending Atalia, while you were off sticking your head into Portals.”
Kreon sighed theatrically. “As you are well aware, I entered Lemurian space to learn what I could about the Black Ships. I’m afraid I got a bit tied up.”
“Tied up? We’ve lost almost three-quarters of the entire Order! So if you’re quite finished with your little fact-finding trip, I need you back here immediately.”
Kreon was starting to lose his sense of humour. It seemed that every conversation with Oktavius was doomed to end the same way; with the High Warden making demands he was disinclined to fulfil. “I will make my people aware of your situation,” he said, letting his own annoyance creep into his voice. “But the situation here is tenuous. My mission has been largely successful. I’ve had the information I recovered transmitted directly to you, but as you may have noticed, it is incomplete.”
“Noticed? Noticed? I haven’t had time to read a damned report!”
“Then you will be unaware of its implications. They are grave, Oktavius. I believe the Lemurians have identified the nature of our foe, but their intentions toward the threat are unclear.”
“The Lemurians! Kreon, have you any idea why they attacked us? And why they stopped? They turned on Demios and fled, as though it was their plan all along.”
“I believe that had something to do with Sera. My information suggests she had brokered a deal with them, and that she recently reneged on it.”
“Lady Serafine? That makes sense. I knew she wasn’t with the fleet. Demios is a good strategist, but he lacks flair. Do you have any idea of her whereabouts?”
Kreon made a show of looking around the room he was standing in, then held his hands up empty. “For all I know, she could be next-door.”
* * *
Safety.
It was a feeling Tris could barely remember, it had been so long.
With the old ship and the refurbished battle station drifting in empty space a few kilometres away from each other, he could finally relax.
For now.
Still. His heart mourned for Loader, whilst his head wrangled with possibility of getting him back. The chances were, the remains of the talos were buried deep beneath the wreckage of what Sera called the Tower of Justice. But Loader had been buried before, and for thousands of years. And the Lemurians hadn’t considered him as ‘evidence’, despite his otherworldly nature. Tris wondered if Loader had managed to keep his true nature hidden from the Lemurians, but they seemed to be experts at ferreting out secrets. Loader’s conspicuous absence at the trial, despite still being online, was reason to believe the Lemurians were investigating him further.
At least they couldn’t torture him.
As far as he knew.
Ella’s arrival took his mind off the problem in the best possible way. Her green eyes lit up when she saw him, and she flung herself into his arms, wrapping her slender limbs around him. Again he had the thought that she was so fragile he was afraid of breaking her. The urge to protect her was overpowering, as he pulled her tightly against him.
“I missed you so much,” she breathed into his ear.
“Me too,” Tris admitted.
She drew back. “Aw, sweetie, you do look rotten. You’ve been in a proper pickle.”
He pulled her close again, then planted his lips firmly on hers. It worked wonders’ especially when he didn’t have a clue what she was going on about.
Ella’s shuttle had docked with the Wayfinder while Kreon was making his long-distance phone call. Kyra seemed to be giving them a bit of space, and Sera hadn’t left the med-bay since she’d gotten Àurea into it.
“Nice ship,” Ella said, as they strolled through the curved passageways hand in hand. “The old ones are always the best.”
Tris thought that might be a joke, given she was north of eighty years his senior. “It’s Kreon’s,” he told her. “He had it tucked away on this private planet. Only Sera showed up, and took Loader apart with a massive sword, and it was… it got messy,” he finished. “But hey, what happened to the Folly? Last time I saw it, it was falling apart.”
Ella turned coy. “I met a few gracious folks who turned out to be from the resistance. They were absolutely livid about what’s going on. They had this big uprising on the cards, and they needed a favour. I had a chinwag with your mam, and she reckoned we could help if they’d fix her up. They took a butchers and decided to change a few things around. See, the Sanctuary is like a jack of all trades, designed to tackle everything from fighters to capital ships. But the Ingumend had a more specific problem, so they refitted her to solve that. The Church’s power comes from its battle stations; no-one else can touch them. So they turned the Folly into the ultimate Sanctuary hunter.” She paused, batting her eyelids at Tris. “I hope you don’t mind.”
He snorted. She’d said it like she’d borrowed his car without asking, or bought new curtains. Whereas in actual fact she’d single-handedly arranged the rebuilding of the Folly, and had it outfitted with capabilities he was pretty sure were unmatched by anything he’d ever seen.
God only knows what else she’d been up to.
“Hey!” he said, as something else occurred to him. “At the prison… was it you that sent Àurea to find us?”
“Aw, sweetie,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze, “I can’t send the leader of the resistance anywhere! I just told her what was going on, and made a few suggestions.”
“Thank-you,” he said, the paltry word inadequate compared to the gratitude he felt. “I’d have died in that prison if not for…” he rubbed his face with his free hand. “And getting away from… whatever that planet was called just now?”
“Helicon Prime,” she put in. “Centre of justice, punishment and politics for the entire Lemurian Empire.”
“Yeah, that place. If you hadn’t showed up right then… I mean, exactly then, at that precise moment… we’d have been blown to bits. Or worse — dragged back down there for more…” A shudder ran
through him at the thought. “Well. More of that torture bullshit.”
The look Ella gave him was one part sorrow, one part concern… and one part something much more mischievous. “You sound like you need a lie down,” she said.
He blinked in surprise, her meaning hard to miss. “Well, I wouldn’t mind… I mean, I have, ah, quarters here, if you’d like to see them?”
“Very much.” Ella twined her fingers into his, and brought them up to her mouth for a sly kiss. There was a distinct twinkle in her eye. “No jealous AI running this ship.”
Tris opened his mouth to mention ALI, then thought better of it.
After all, the ex-prison AI was in love herself. What her opinions were about them leaving Loader behind on Helicon Prime remained to be seen.
“This way,” Tris said, pulling Ella towards his cabin.
It was like all his hurts, all the exhaustion and mental anguish that had been mounting since they’d been captured on Oracle, all faded away in an instant. He could feel his pulse quicken with anticipation, and a stirring down below that overrode all other physical sensations.
The door to his cabin slid shut.
He looked about quickly, but he hadn’t been in there long enough to make a mess. Yet again he was in the unenviable position of owning nothing beyond his weapons and the prison-issued clothes on his back.
I’ve really got to talk to Kreon about some kind of allowance.
It was not the kind of thought he wanted to be having right now, so he turned back to Ella and kissed her, drawing her shamelessly back towards the bed.
She came willingly, even eagerly, one hand going to a clasp at the neck of her jumpsuit. Her red hair was unbound, cascading over her shoulders as she bared them. Tris was breathing heavier, hypnotised by the pale skin she was revealing. She pushed him playfully, and he landed on the bed. She peeled her jumpsuit the rest of the way off, stepping out of it with such unconscious grace that his heart caught at the sight her.
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