Warden's Vengeance

by Tony James Slater

  Àurea had no more time to ponder the peculiarities of her parents. She led them out of the anteroom, around a white-panelled corner, and into the lab proper.

  Rows of computer consoles lined the walls, interspersed with viewscreens. Flicking her eyes along them, Àurea realised they weren’t in Gerian’s home any more. Unless all the viewscreens had been synched to show pictures from elsewhere, they weren’t even on Obsidia; both sides of the lab showed scenes of a rocky, barren surface and the airless void of space beyond.

  “We’re on a ship,” she breathed, in case the others hadn’t noticed.

  It was clearly a science vessel, of a class she wasn’t familiar with. Small enough for this one room to stretch its entire width; other decks, either above or below must provide engineering and accommodation spaces.

  The lab itself was huge though, and compartmentalised into numerous sections. The part they’d entered was for data processing and analysis, with most of the available space devoted to holo-tables and other display devices. Up ahead, white-plated walls marked the end of this section and the start of another; drop-in modules, allowing the ship to be configured with a variety of different lab units appropriate to the nature of its research.

  By the look of things, the computing section was not in use. Most of the terminals sat idle, only a few showing blinking status lights, and the room was empty of people.

  Luckily for them.

  Àurea headed for the door into the next section. Her flails would make short work of it, though possibly her father’s alien knife would do a more subtle job.

  But the door slid open as she approached, obviously not set up for security.

  She cast a wary glance back to her parents, but continued on. Gerian was somewhere on this ship, and it wasn’t a terribly big place to hide. She would find him, and she would kill him.

  Hopefully before they found his experiments.

  Whatever that sadistic bastard was working on in here, she didn’t want to know.

  The corridor she found herself in ended in another door just ahead. To either side, wide transparisteel windows revealed a pair of containment modules — smaller, airtight labs set up with heavy-duty filtration and the nozzles of incendiary decontamination devices protruding from the ceilings.

  She made a mental note not to get locked inside either of them, and pressed on.

  Approaching the final door, she quelled a surge of excitement. This was it; the main portion of the lab had to lie beyond this door. The chances were good that Gerian would be in there; the chance of his life being extinguished inside the next few minutes were strong indeed.

  Again the door slid open, and Àurea stepped through.

  The room she entered was enormous. She instantly adjusted her appraisal of the vessel’s size upwards. Although still pristine and white, this lab was filled with machinery; huge conical devices hung from the ceiling on tracks, some with grasping arms, some with apertures. Consoles of a different sort lined the walls, with small stasis booths and an impressive array of monitoring equipment. The centre of the space was dominated by a machine she didn’t recognise; an immense altar-like structure, it bristled with cables and conduits. The flat top was transparent, but whatever horrors it contained were thankfully not visible from her perspective.

  Taken all at once, the room was a temple to elaborate and esoteric gadgetry.

  And in the centre of it all, hard at work on a holographic console next to the strange machine, stood Gerian.

  He glanced up as she entered, his face registering mild surprise.

  Àurea shook out her flails, tensing for a sprint across the room that would end with his murder.

  But Gerian was nothing if not pragmatic; a single touch of his console brought a blue haze crackling to life right in front of her. The air snapped with energy, and Àurea swung one of her flails against it; sparks flew, the weapon rebounding from a powerful forcefield.

  Behind her, she heard her parents curse. Both had followed her in close enough to witness the activation of the field; if the savage nature of their swearing was anything to go by, they both realised the situation they were now in.

  Àurea risked a glance behind them, seeing nothing but empty air through the doorway. They weren’t trapped, they were merely cut off from their target. For now.

  Already her mind was working. If they’d taken the time to don the environment suits, they could have considered blowing a hole in the hull. Even if the forcefield prevented Gerian’s section from decompressing, they could simply go outside and blow a hole in the next compartment along. The Assessor General was wearing his immaculate grey uniform, as though his tailoring took precedence over the lab’s need for safety gear; that could well be his undoing.

  Gerian seemed more intent on his work than he did on the intruders. He spent several long seconds tapping away at his console before he deigned to notice them.

  “So!” Gerian swivelled his chair to face them, not bothering to stand. “You’ve found me! I’ll admit to being impressed. It seems your resourcefulness is undiminished, Lord Anakreon.”

  Kreon made a furious noise, striding closer to the forcefield. “You are messing with things you don’t understand,” he snarled. “Those Portals you’ve created — they will bring the Black Ships down upon you, and your entire planet will suffer for it.”

  Gerian merely looked bored. “Yes, yes, I know.”

  Àurea felt the sudden change in her father; he went from furious to perplexed in the space between heartbeats.

  “You are aware then,” he said, voice loaded with accusation.

  Still seated, Gerian spread his hands. “Of course! You Wardens seem to think you’re the sole repository of all knowledge in the galaxy, just because you get around so much. Whereas I do my homework. I’ve studied the spiritual guidance of our ancestors extensively, and conducted my own research on what lies beyond the Portals.” He shook his head, slowly. “You really have no idea, do you? Charging into Lemurian space all high and mighty, demanding I share with you secrets that have taken me a lifetime to acquire!”

  Letting her father take the spotlight, Àurea slunk backwards. She had no way of communicating her intentions, but Kreon could be relied upon to engage in an argument when it presented itself. Hopefully he would goad Gerian into a lengthy tirade — or vice versa. It didn’t matter. What did, was enacting her plan. Get outside. Cut a hole in the hull, right by Gerian. If the evil bastard wasn’t sucked right out of it, she could go in and finish him off.

  She took another slow step backward, allowing her mother to move in front of her.

  But Gerian noticed.

  “Ah, my dear Ingumen! Lovely to see you again. Àurea, isn’t it? I do have a lot to thank you for. Without your contribution to my intelligence reports, that little uprising of yours might actually have achieved something.”

  Rage flashed through Àurea. This man had casually ordered the extermination of the Pit’s entire population. His blasphemous creations had murdered hundreds of innocent civilians; men, women and children who had relied on her for protection.

  She had failed them all.

  “I will make your death last,” she promised, moving towards him again. “If I could, I would give you to the survivors of my people, and watch them tear you apart with their fingernails.”

  The look on Gerian’s face was pure indulgence — the kind he might give to an overly-imaginative child. “Ah yes! The soul of vengeance, the very essence of the deity you impersonate. Ingumen, our ancient God of Nightmares! And yet here you are — a scared little girl, hiding behind mommy and daddy.”

  It was too much. Àurea swung her flail at the energy barrier, showering them all in blue-white sparks.

  “Ha ha!” Gerian chuckled. “Such a spirited family! I can’t believe I didn’t see it straight away. Perhaps I should have focussed my attention on you, Lord Anakreon, instead of the boy.” Gerian made a show of looking behind himself. “Where is my boy? I was rather hoping to catch up with
him again. I do hope he’s alright.”

  “Tristan is somewhere you can’t touch him,” Kreon retorted. “You will never see him again.”

  Gerian’s eyes lit up. “Interesting choice of words. A puzzle? I’m assuming the boy is alive, or your faces would be even longer. But somewhere I can’t touch him, eh? That certainly narrows it down.” He looked up, stroking an imaginary beard as though to emphasise his contemplation. “He’s on Earth then, I assume? Interesting. He can’t possibly have gotten that far so quickly. Not by ship. You’ve been holding out on me, Anakreon! All this talk of the danger of using Portals, and you’ve been building them yourself!”

  “The Portals are not of my making,” Kreon said quietly. “But the horror they have unleashed upon us is my responsibility. The Lemurian Empire is under the same threat as my own people. And here you sit, fully aware of the problem and yet content to do nothing!”

  Gerian stood then, bringing his hands together in a slow, mocking clap. “Well done, My Lord! True to your reputation — judge, jury and executioner! Very well, then. Step over here and administer your justice.”

  At some point Kreon had stowed his laser pistols. Now Àurea watched him draw his staff, setting his palm to the dull grey orb atop it.

  “Justice is here, Gerian. I will smash this ship to rubble. Surely you know that you cannot evade me by cowering behind a forcefield?”

  “Cowering?” Gerian actually seemed amused by the comment. “We must have a differing appreciation for the word. But you’ve interrupted me at work, My Lord, and whilst I apologise for my rudeness, I simply must get back to it.” Returning to his chair, Gerian activated his holographic displays again, frowning at what he saw there. He read something on a screen for a few seconds, then glanced up. “Still here? Oh yes, that’s right. You won’t leave without punishing me for my crimes.” He waved at the forcefield. “Interesting situation. I’m well aware of your formidable combat skills. Why, I don’t believe there’s anyone on this ship that could take all three of you on! A few scientists, a handful of guards, the pilot perhaps…” He turned back to his displays, tapping a few controls absent-mindedly. “And yet a simple forcefield has stymied you. I must say, for all your legendary prowess, you really aren’t much of a thinker.”

  He refocused on his work, his fingers stabbing the air to operate controls only he understood. Then, apparently satisfied, he stood abruptly. “You know, amusing as it is to watch you standing there impotently, I really am quite busy. But perhaps I could give you a little demonstration of what I’m currently working on? I could answer a few questions, and have you on your merry way. What do you think about that?”

  Àurea could tell the man was playing with them. It was in his eyes, his tone, his body language. Gerian was convinced he had them right where he wanted them, surprise or no. Danger! her instincts screamed. Whilst it appeared they were all similarly trapped, Gerian was in control here. What forces had he summoned from his home, while he kept them occupied with pointless blathering?

  She slipped backwards again, her mind on the environment suits. The blades on the end of her flails were great against armour, but she wasn’t sure they could cut through the hull of a starship. She needed her father’s knife for that, but how to get it from him without revealing her intention? She needed to end this stalemate, and quickly — before Gerian revealed whatever it was he had up his sleeve.

  Then, after following the conversation in silence so far, her mother fixed Gerian with a cold stare. “You tortured my child,” she said, flatly. “And you did not have the courage to face me afterwards. For that I will destroy not only you, but your work, your home, and everything you have ever held dear. Starting now.”

  She produced a small cylinder from somewhere — presumably the same place she’d hidden the blaster — and placed it against the bulkhead, close to the forcefield. The tiny device magnetised to the wall plate with a click.

  Àurea gasped. She’d known about her mother’s propensity for explosives from a young age, but this was a dangerous play. That bomb would kill all of them, and most likely destroy the entire ship.

  Gerian’s eyes widened a touch, though he gave no obvious sign of concern. “Lady Serafine,” her purred, “I deeply regret the circumstances which have forced us to become enemies. I—”

  “You will regret them,” Sera cut him off. “All of them.” She turned to Àurea. “Back through the Portal, girl. We’ll finish up here.”

  Àurea knew that tone, knew it brooked no argument, but she couldn’t leave both her parents on a ship that was primed to explode. She glanced at Kreon in earnest, but her father’s face gave nothing away.

  “Bold strategy,” Gerian admitted, walking back to his console. “I must deactivate the forcefield to reach that device. Which means that as long as you remain, this ship is doomed — and all my research along with it. There are escape pods, of course…” His voice turned almost wistful. “Lady Serafine! Alone of this motley crew, you have not disappointed me. But I’m afraid, your husband misunderstands the situation. I have not been sitting idle, while this threat you call the ‘Black Ships’ grows! On the contrary, the project I am about to complete will guarantee the survival of my people. Let me show you what I mean.”

  He sat back in his chair and placed a metal circlet on his head. Àurea tensed; the man was amongst the most powerful psychics in the Empire. What extra abilities could this device confer?

  Her parents exchanged puzzled looks; it was clear their strategy had hit another road block.

  Àurea willed them to retreat back towards the Portal, but knew there was no telling them. This would play out as intended — as Gerian had intended, she realised. He had been toying with them all along. She had a horrible feeling they were about to find out why.

  Sera slid a finger along her bomb, activating it with a bleep—

  And with a sudden hiss of escaping air, the top of the altar-like machine slid open. Clouds of different-coloured gases billowed out, drifting up to linger near the ceiling.

  And from within the machine came a strange cracking sound.

  Keeping her flails powered up, Àurea moved to a better position. In hand to hand combat she was undoubtably the best of them, but her flails needed room. This lab was massive, an ideal battleground for her — so long as her parents didn’t get in the way.

  Gerian was hunched forwards now, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands worked controls built into the arms of his chair, as something rose from the depths of the mechanical altar.

  Àurea gaped. The… creature was like nothing she had ever seen.

  An object, or talos, comprised entirely of some sort of blueish crystal, it reared up from what she realised was a sarcophagus. Two sets of limbs reached out, as though the creature was testing its mobility — or stretching after a long sleep.

  With a sound like breaking glass, the creature stood up. It was far taller even than her father, a good eight feet at least, and the overhead light refracted through its limbs.

  Gerian twisted in his seat and the being moved forwards, stepping out from the sarcophagus onto the deck. Bipedal, its legs had at least one extra joint. They ended in sharp claws that scored the deck plates as the creature lumbered forwards.

  Àurea glanced at her parents; they’d spread out, readying their weapons.

  But the creature made it as far as the forcefield and stopped. It had no head; from what would be the chest on a human, a short stalk protruded. The end of it was studded with what looked like sensors. The creature’s arms were long and thin, practically translucent. Two more arms were held tight against its body, each ending in a long, blade-like claw. Stubby wings stuck out from its shoulders, though they looked more stylised than practical.

  “Magnificent, isn’t she?” Gerian was standing now, his face smug as he backed towards another console. “I call her my Queen.”

  The creature barely moved as Gerian lowered himself into a different chair.

  He’s controlling it
, Àurea realised. And he can’t do it while he’s moving himself. The circlet on his head was obviously the key, allowing Gerian to dominate the mind of… whatever it was.

  “Ah, that’s better,” Gerian announced, settling himself. “I owe you a debt, Lord Anakreon, which is why I’ve allowed you to bask in her brilliance. Were it not for the fantastic gift you brought me, I doubt I could have achieved half of what I’ve done.”

  Gerian gestured, and Àurea followed his movement. She knew the Lantians referred to psychic talent as ‘the Gift’, but her father had none of it to give. Then she noticed the tangle of wires Gerian was indicating. They ran across the floor in bunches, connecting the sarcophagus to another machine — a circular cradle, into which a battered steel box had been grafted. Portions of the casing had been cut away to allow access for the wires, and a faint yellow glow emanated from within.

  Her father clearly recognised the device though. He stepped closer to the forcefield, and the strange crystalline alien beyond it, to get a better look. “Loader,” he growled.

  Gerian was delighted. “So that’s what you called it! It never would tell.” He closed his eyes, concentrating, and the translucent alien moved again. It spread its arms wide, displaying hands with three opposing fingers, each tipped with a claw of glinting diamond.

  “What you see before you, is just the first step towards a goal I have dedicated my entire life to,” Gerian continued. “This incredible construct is what your friend over there would have looked like, before you stuffed him into a tin can. I’m controlling it now, of course. But I aim for so much more. I aim to be this thing! And thanks to you, Kreon, I am almost there.”

  He tapped a button on his console and another forcefield sprang to life just in front of him. It separated him from the crystal creature, but didn’t seem to diminish his control over it.

  Then he tapped another control, and the forcefield separating the creature from Àurea’s family disappeared.

  “All I really need now,” Gerian drawled, “is a test subject.”