Embers of Esper: A Sci Fi Adventure (Warden's Legacy Book 1)

by Tony James Slater

  EMBERS OF ESPER

  by Tony James Slater

  Copyright © Tony James Slater 2021

  This edition published 2021 by Various Things (ADT)

  Tony James Slater has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, or licensed in any way except when specifically permitted in writing by the publishers. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  www.TonyJamesSlater.com

  For Freya,

  Even though, as it stands, this book

  actually outweighs you quite a bit.

  Out of all the adventures I’ve been on,

  I’m looking forward to this one the most.

  I can’t wait to meet you!

  Dramatis Personae

  The Wardens: An ancient order of warriors, tasked with protecting humanity throughout the galaxy. They also watch over the ancestral homeworld of Earth, preserving it and preventing any outside interference from contaminating its current population.

  Lord Anakreon (Kreon): Recently-deceased Warden of the First Circle, previously one of the oldest and most powerful members of that order.

  Tristan Andrews (Tris): A young man from modern-day Earth, Tris had no idea that humans had spread out into our galaxy thousands of years ago. Abducted from Earth by Kreon and coerced into becoming the Warden’s apprentice, Tris was amazed to discover his telepathic ‘Gift’. An expert with the deadly glaive he inherited from his father, Tris has an athletic build and short brown hair. These traits are also inherited, as he later discovered that he was illegally cloned from his father’s DNA.

  Kylimnestra Loreak (Kyra): A mercenary who has spent her life on the run, Kyra is a veteran warrior and a master of the ancient Arranozapar sword-form. Also strongly Gifted, she has taken on Tristan’s training in all things — mostly, however, she loves to mess with his head. She is tall and muscular, with a strong predilection for shopping, and her trademark rainbow hair can change colour on a whim.

  Eleanor Fitzgerald (Ella): A White Priestess and assassin of the highest grade, Ella is a slender, pale-skinned redhead. Skilled in all forms of combat, explosives, manipulation and seduction, Ella has been genetically modified and enhanced for maximum lethality. Currently wanted by the Priesthood for turning on her employer, she has found herself drawn to Tristan’s honesty and naiveté. She is now his lover, though not an official part of his crew.

  Lukas: A spec-ops combat medic and surgeon, Lukas rebelled against the corrupt government of his people. He found his true calling amongst the resistance — as a babysitter for the leader’s daughter. He joined Tris and Kyra’s crew by accident, and never left. For some reason…

  Askarra: An Artificial Intelligence program based on the memories of Tristan’s mother, Askarra is permanently ensconced in the computer of a Sanctuary-class battle station named the Folly. This formidable vessel was once the equal of an entire fleet, but has sustained heavy damage over the last few months.

  Lord Oktavius: Appointed as the High Warden following the murder of his predecessor, Oktavius is a strict traditionalist. He believes in the protection of Earth at all costs, and is dedicated to the future of his order.

  PROLOGUE

  She was awakened by shouting.

  Fear-stricken, panicked shouting… and something more sinister.

  Tarri had only heard the sound of laser blasts during the occasional parade, or on holo-movies, but there was no mistaking it; a sharp, high-pitched hiss, followed by the sizzle of white-hot energy striking stone. Her first thought was that she was dreaming, but the breeze wafting in through the open window felt cool on her skin. She swung one leg out of bed, and the softness of the carpet beneath her bare toes was more than enough evidence.

  This is real! We’re being attacked!

  A shriek split the night, and ugly yells came from the corridor outside. That sent her leaping out of bed — but there was nowhere to go. Whoever these people were, they were already inside the palace. They could blast down her bedroom door at any moment; her satin nightdress would do nothing to stop a blaster bolt.

  Who are they? What do they want?

  Her mind reached out reflexively, using her modest Gift to seek answers to her questions. Her psychic talent was paltry though, barely enough to reach the next room — where her older sister was already awake, and every bit as scared as she was.

  Be strong, Jenna, she sent to the girl — not that it would do any good. Jenna had no Gift talent at all. No-one else in the palace did; only her grandmother, hiding in her darkened cottage in the grounds, would have been able to answer her. But just as she was about to give up on this futile exercise, she caught a hint of malice that stole the breath from her lungs. Someone was right outside her room. Three someones… three distinct minds, all tinged with cruelty and glee. And they were utterly focussed on their target.

  Me.

  Tarri didn’t need any more encouragement. Snagging her wrist console from its charging cradle, she rushed over to the window. She’d lost count of how many times she’d climbed in and out this way, exploring the hidden recesses of the palace roof. It had been her favourite game as a child… but that was a long time ago.

  Her eyes flicked back to the door as it gave a tiny click. She kept it locked at night, but that wouldn’t stop these attackers. They were too determined, too professional.

  She didn’t need to see into their minds to know that they were only seconds from gaining entry.

  Grabbing hold of the window frame, she pulled herself up onto the ledge. It was impossible to resist looking down; she was four floors up, with an unsurvivable drop onto wide marble tiles below her. Legend had it that her grandfather had fallen to his death on those tiles… Don’t think about that, she reminded herself. And stuffing the strap of her console between her teeth, she swung out.

  Her hand found a fluted column, part of the decorative carving that adorned the outside of the building. That was what made it so fun to climb — when she wasn’t being chased.

  They won’t think to look out here, she told herself. Was it true? She had no way of knowing. But a crash from inside her room suggested that she was about to find out.

  Move! Jenna’s window was closed and probably latched, the way they were all meant to be. But breaking into her sister’s bedroom would do nothing to help either of them escape. Whoever’s after me will probably go for her, too… it was heart-rending, but undoubtably the truth. There was nothing she could do; she would have to leave Jenna, and hope against hope that this would all be over soon.

  She climbed away from the bedrooms, clinging to the stone with her fingers and toes, and reached the frieze that ran all the way around the top of the palace. The pale glare of the great lamp Luna lit her way, but strobing bursts of laser light threw flashes of colour through the windows below her. The noise was constant now, the din of many voices, many shots fired, many boots running. An explosion rang out, and she flinched at the sound. Her grip faltered and she nearly fell, but her fingers scrabbled at the mouldings beside her and managed to find purchase.

  Too close! Her breath came in ra
pid gasps. The shock reminded her to concentrate on her movements, and she made it to a ledge wide enough to stand on. Her bare feet were scraped raw and bloody, throbbing painfully, but she thrust that out of her mind. She pulled her console from her mouth and sagged back against the wall behind her, breathing heavily.

  Help! I’ve got to get help! But the only help she knew of was inside the palace, and already doing the best they could. It won’t be enough, she realised, suddenly cold. Whoever came here to do this, they had to know what was waiting for them. They came prepared for a fight. Which probably meant they knew how many guards were stationed in the palace and had planned accordingly. Her home city had no standing army — just a sort of voluntary police force, mostly to present a symbol of safety and security to the populace. Certainly they would help if they could, but the last thought she’d read from the minds of the people entering her room had chilled her to the bone.

  If it’s true… the City Guard won’t be able to stop them.

  There was another city not too far from her own, where they had a huge army — but the people living there were angry and bitter. No, there would be no help coming from Laugarren, even if they knew what was happening.

  Their commander is more likely to support an attack like this than to oppose it…

  She shook her head to clear it. Tears stung her face; she hadn’t even noticed she was crying.

  There’s only one person who can help us. With trembling fingers, she paged through the menus on her console. It took her three goes to find where she’d stored the forbidden data; a frequency she’d stolen from her mother’s console so long ago that for a panicked second, she thought she might have erased it. But no — there it was. And she had just enough time to send one quick message, before she had to move. The smell of smoke was on the air now, and that could only be a bad thing.

  She typed a frantic plea for help, and made the only suggestion she could think of. A plan had come to her, half-baked and desperate, but if she survived the next few minutes, she’d have time to elaborate.

  She was struggling to fasten the console around her wrist when a yell came from below her; she glanced back to see a figure leaning out of her bedroom window. A second later, a blaze of crimson energy streaked past, so close she could feel its heat. She yelped, and the console slipped from her fingers, tumbling on the long fall down to those treacherous tiles. No! She reached after it automatically. That was my only chance!

  And then a second blast followed the first, and she very nearly lost that hand.

  Scrambling around the next column over, she reached up for the top of the frieze. Ignoring the protest from her fingertips, she pulled herself up, flailing with her feet before managing to haul her body over the lip. She was properly on the roof, now. Rolling away from the edge, she got to her feet. Her nightdress clung to her back with sweat, but there was no time to rest. Her attackers would be after her soon enough, now that they knew she was up here.

  At least she knew where she was going. It was ridiculous, but it was also the only thing that made sense. Beyond the next gable was the rooftop landing pad; a flat expanse of permacrete that she had to get across before anyone chasing her caught up. Once on it, there would be no cover until she reached the far end, where a small diplomatic shuttle sat awaiting its next mission.

  She ran up the slope of the gable, clearing the ridge and sliding down the other side. When her feet hit the low wall that surrounded the landing pad she sprang forward, wincing as she landed. But she dare not falter; this was the most crucial, the most dangerous part.

  Try not to think of a laser blast hitting me between my shoulder blades!

  As she set off across the flat, her thoughts flicked back to the message she’d sent. Too short and too cryptic. She cursed herself. She didn’t know if it had been transmitted before she’d lost her console. She didn’t even know if that frequency was still monitored, after all these years. And she had no way of knowing if the intended recipient of the message was alive or dead…

  But she had to hope. Right now, it was all she had left.

  Please help us, she sent a silent prayer to the universe. By all the gods, we need you Kyra!

  ONE

  Kyra leaned on her control stems to bring the fighter around in a tight arc. Stars wheeled past her cockpit, along with the microscopic pin-prick of light that was Earth. The ancient homeworld of humanity looked impossibly distant, but that was an illusion; a fast ship could reach it in less than an hour from here without jumping. As the planet’s precise location was forbidden from being marked on any map, the outer reaches of the solar system was where most bandits showed up — jumping in for a closer look, hoping to acquire a more accurate bearing.

  It was a simple enough act, but even by itself it was considered sufficient proof of intent to trespass on Earth. And that made it punishable by death.

  One such group of criminals was currently being dealt with, and brilliant laser blasts streaked through the void, splashing against the shields of a small pirate vessel. Kyra paid it no heed; she’d already spotted another target, popping into real-space a short distance away. With her squadron tied up, these new interlopers probably thought they’d won the lottery — an unobstructed run at the ancestral homeworld, and all the priceless relics to be found there…

  They were wrong. She threw full power to her drive, the weight of acceleration squeezing her chest until the compensators caught up. She was pushing her fighter dangerously close to its design tolerances, and a pair of flashing lights on her console warned her of this; she grinned, slapping the overrides. She wasn’t having fun unless something was in the red. As soon as she was able, she scraped a loose strand of bright blue hair from her eyes. Her long straight locks were every colour of the rainbow; an awesome look, if occasionally a little distracting.

  Her target, a medium-sized freighter with no ID broadcasting, saw her coming and vectored away. She had a few seconds before it would be able to jump again — in which case, it would become someone else’s problem.

  “Not this time,” she said to the empty air in front of her.

  Her comm crackled, the encryption routine lending an electronic twang to her squad captain’s voice. “Alpha? There’s a new signal, I—”

  “I’m on it.” She rolled her eyes, not that the man on the other end could see it. He was enthusiastic enough — probably too much, if she was honest — but like most men, his multi-tasking could use some work. “Just stay here and keep the rest of these guys occupied.”

  “Yessir! We’ll wipe them out!”

  She fought the urge to roll her eyes again. She was going to do herself an injury at this rate. The squad she was training were brand new to this job, and the excitement still hadn’t worn off for some of them. They were all experienced combat pilots, drawn from various sector fleets, planetary defence forces and so on — but this was different. This was the most prestigious posting in the galaxy, as well as the most demanding. Right now, it also came with free accommodation in the fabled fortress-ship of the Wardens, one of the first space-faring vessels ever created by mankind. That was a rare perk, but it didn’t outweigh the downside; training for the Earth Defence Force was all on-the-job, and it quite often ended messily.

  Leaving her pilots to finish the dogfight they’d started, Kyra concentrated on the new arrival. She sent a pair of micro-missiles streaking towards the freighter, one a half-second behind the other. The tactic paid off when countermeasures blossomed from the opposing ship, causing the first missile to explode prematurely. The second slammed into the freighter’s main engine an instant later, a bright flash tearing through the back of the ship.

  Amateurs!

  She closed the range, dodging the clumsy turbolaser blasts coming her way. Finishing the ship off with her guns would be satisfying, and it would save her dwindling supply of missiles…

  Only one left? Ouch.

  It had been a long shift.

  She hit optimal firing range and unleashed a
salvo against the freighter’s shields. Inevitably, it was well-protected; people risking a run on Earth knew the odds were stacked against a clean getaway. But as she squeezed her triggers for another blast, a docking hatch opened in the side of the vessel and a pair of fighters zipped out. Wingtip cannons blazed, using the element of surprise to get a free shot in.

  Kyra swore as she threw her ship into a dive, but there was no dodging at this distance. A shriek of tortured metal set her teeth on edge, and alarms began to wail in her tiny cockpit. She slapped the cut-offs and hauled back on the control stems, managing to squeeze off a shot at the underside of one of the fighters as it zipped past. Her console reported the hit, a lucky shot even by her standards, but she couldn’t see the fireball as her target exploded; her rear-facing sensors had been vaporised. Along with several other systems back there… She scanned the damage reports, figuring she could worry about the remaining fighter if she was still alive when it came back. The news wasn’t great; she’d lost her main drive, and was bleeding all kinds of gases into space. Including oxygen…

  Well, crap. If my lips go blue, at least they’ll match my eyes.

  Leaving a good-looking corpse had been one of her top priorities for as long as she could remember. But there had to be an alternative. Swallowing her pride, she keyed her comm open. “Squadron Ataxe, this is Alpha. I’ve taken critical damage. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Irkus, Gabri, split off and cover Kyra!” came the squad leader’s reply. “We’re almost done here,” he added. “Just hang tight, we’ll be there in a minute.”