Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  Tris swallowed. He hadn’t really thought of that. “The Empress will look after us, though. Right?”

  He felt the cold brush of a Siszar mind on his, as though mentioning her name had summoned her. He’d noticed her nestship in the distance, shadowing them up from the planet.

  I will protect you, the Empress promised. My followers will protect you also.

  Good to know, he told her. Do you think we’ll be attacked?

  The answering waft of stench was hardly reassuring. Constantly.

  Oh! Will it be… safe?

  I will die before I let anyone harm you, she vowed.

  Tris couldn’t help noticing that she’d ducked the question somewhat. What if you die?

  Then our deaths will be the stuff of legend!

  Ah.

  It wasn’t quite what he’d hoped to hear.

  But he didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter, so he decided not to pursue it any further.

  The Portal to Earth sat on its own in the middle of another docking bay a few levels down. A slender metal frame surrounded a glossy black rectangle not much bigger than a regular door. Tris shuddered inwardly as he approached it. He’d been through the thing countless times now, and had told himself that he was getting used to the clawing cold. But the sickening sense of malice that surrounded him during that infinite microsecond of transition had always been deeply unsettling.

  It was even worse now that he knew what lived in that gulf between worlds…

  He shook himself, not wanting Kyra to notice him hesitating. As far as he could tell, her respect for him hinged mostly on his apparent bravery.

  Ha! If only she knew.

  Bracing himself mentally and physically, he moved closer to the Portal and brushed a finger over its frame.

  The darkness within responded instantly, rippling at first, then beginning to writhe like a living thing.

  Like a bed of snakes… or tentacles.

  He cleared his throat, then stepped aside as an idea occurred to him. “Ladies first,” he said, gesturing to Kyra.

  She raised an eyebrow at him, but strode forward. “See you on the other side,” she said, stepping through.

  Tris winced. The other side was exactly where he never wanted to go again. These man-made Portals linked distant parts of the same galaxy, but the huge, ancient versions led directly into that realm of madness and terror.

  And the stuff of nightmares that inhabited it.

  Tris took a deep breath, and threw himself into the Portal before he could chicken out.

  As promised, Kyra was waiting for him on the other side.

  The door to the basement they arrived in was still in bits, a victim of Ella’s twin sister Evie. The assassin had ambushed them on board the Folly by following them back through this Portal, nearly killing Kyra in the process. Fixing the door was on Tris’ To-Do List, but he’d been a bit busy lately for DIY.

  “No-one in the house,” Kyra said, confirming what his Gift was already telling him. Tris said a silent prayer of thanks. It added an extra dimension of risk to using the Portal, now that so many people knew of its existence. One day they were going to make this trip only to find a room full of bad guys waiting for them.

  He led the way up the basement steps and peered into the kitchen from force of habit. The whole place looked like a bomb had gone off — hardly surprising, given that the last time it had been occupied there’d been over two-hundred refugees squatting in it.

  As always, Tris took a few minutes to throw on more Earth-appropriate garb from his wardrobe upstairs. Thankfully it hadn’t been ransacked. He threw on ripped jeans and trainers, leaving the zero-gee armour he’d been wearing in a pile. He could barely remember what system they’d been in when he’d put it on; now it was pockmarked with laser burns, partially melted, and stank like a wrestler’s jockstrap. That seemed to be his own curse; he somehow managed to ruin a fresh set of armour in every engagement. He snorted. Kyra had told him that the solution was simple: stop getting shot.

  For her disguise, Kyra simply removed the light armour plates from her outfit, leaving a figure-hugging undersuit that she accessorised with a pink tank-top. The space-age boots remained firmly on her feet; Tris knew that prying her out of them would be nigh on impossible. It actually helped to dress weird, he’d noticed; people were far less inclined to start talking to them. And if anyone did dare venture a question, there was always his stock answer: cosplay.

  They left by the front door, Tris locking it after them and replacing the key under its plant pot. It took about half an hour on foot to reach the warehouse, and whilst it wasn’t sunny out, at least it wasn’t raining. Yet. A cool breeze whipped up the pavement towards them, and Tris was glad he’d worn a jumper.

  They hadn’t gone far when Kyra nudged his arm. “Hey, there’s something I’ve got to do. I’ll meet you at the warehouse.”

  Even though he’d been fully prepared for it, Tris groaned. “Really?”

  She gave him a hurt look. “This is important! And you know how long it takes to get those damn Lemurians moving. Especially with that fat-assed babysitter in charge of them.”

  “Ha!” Tris snorted. “If there was even an inch of fat anywhere on Lukas’ body, I’d be surprised.”

  “Why don’t you go look for it, then? And tell him I said hi.”

  “That’s the message you want me to give him? Hi?”

  “If I asked you to tell him to go screw himself, would you?” she countered. “Thought not. Look, you go compare man-boobs with lover-boy, and I’ll get the supplies.”

  “Hang on a minute,” Tris protested. “When did his boobs become any of my business?”

  She gave him a vicious grin. “I don’t know, but I’d try not to let Ella know. She strikes me as the jealous type.”

  Tris gave up and watched her walk away towards the town centre.

  He’d long since realised that there was no arguing with Kyra; she was a law onto herself.

  Hopefully she wouldn’t set fire to anything.

  When he arrived at the warehouse, he was surprised to find the area around it deserted. On his last visit there’d been a handful of scruffily-dressed kids hanging around to intercept passers-by. It was a brilliant strategy, as there were enough children in the base to take turns, and they were all desperate to be outside anyway. Nothing chased people away better than beggars, and using kids drew less suspicion and was less threatening than adults.

  Now though, they were conspicuous in their absence. Tris glanced around at the nearby rooftops, but couldn’t spot any of the snipers Lukas had positioned to cover the compound. He picked up the pace, crossing his fingers in his pockets.

  PLEASE don’t let anything have gone wrong…

  Bringing the Lemurians here was his idea.

  And technically it was punishable by death. For them and for him.

  He made his way into the warehouse by a small metal door, and passed through a dilapidated reception area on his way to the main space. The graffiti-covered roller doors, which had been cranked half open on his last visit, had been shut up tight.

  Please please please…

  He crossed the wide expanse of concrete to an innocuous fire door. It looked like it should lead back outside, but when he typed his code into a keypad on the wall it swung open, revealing a long metal staircase.

  “Hello?” he called.

  Light blossomed far below, the soft glow barely illuminating the stairs.

  With no other options, Tris gripped the handrails and began to descend.

  His spare hand itched to hold his dad’s knife, which he’d stashed out of sight in a small backpack.

  This could all be nothing more than his overactive imagination…

  Belatedly, it occurred to him to use the Gift. He quested out, not sure what he was going to find — and breathed a sigh of relief when dozens of calm and contented minds opened up to him, revealing myriad thoughts of domesticity and boredom.

  And Lukas, waiting
for him at the foot of the stairs. “Bloody hell!” he called out. “You had me worried there! I didn’t know you could be so quiet.”

  But as he turned his attention back to his more conventional senses, he caught a flash of anxiety from Lukas. The big man was waiting patiently for him; not something Tris had come to expect from recent visits.

  “Is everything okay?” Tris asked, when he reached him. “Is Ana okay?”

  “Ana’s fine.” Lukas ran a hand through his short dark hair. His demeanour was off. He was quiet — serious even — a stark contrast to his typical laid-back vibe.

  “What is it?” Tris tried again. “What’s wrong?”

  Lukas made a pained face. “We’ve got a bit of a problem.”

  ***

  The problem, when Tris came face to face with it, was really two problems.

  “That one’s called Tina,” Lukas said, jabbing a thick finger at the monitor. The view it displayed was of the base’s detention centre; specifically, the inside of a cell. Wearing thigh-high boots, a denim miniskirt and a crop top, Tina was standing right underneath the camera — unleashing a torrent of abuse at it as far as Tris could tell. On the far side of the cell, a dishevelled man lay slumped in a corner. His clothes were stained and torn; what bit of his face could be seen between scraggy beard and filthy bobble-hat was gaunt and sallow.

  “Shit,” Tris said. “And what’s the bloke called?”

  “Dunno.” Lukas sounded apologetic. “We only ever got grunts out of him. But Tina calls him ‘baby’.”

  “How the hell did they get in here?”

  Lukas massaged the bridge of his nose. “That’s my fault. We had them under surveillance when they snuck in under the fence. We couldn’t shoot them, but I figured they’d go away eventually. But the roller door was open, so they came in and started having sex on a pallet.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I think Tina might be a hooker. Anyway, it was late. I locked down the base, so only command staff could access the doors, and decided to leave ‘em till morning. Except Ana got up early to go exploring. She’s got command access you see, and she walked right out into them. She ran; they followed her down here… and now we can’t let them go. We stunned them, and got them in the cell, and here we are.”

  Tris let his head hang. “Bollocks. This is really bad, man.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Tris rubbed his face. “But you’re right — we can’t shoot them. And we can’t let them go.”

  “So what’s left?” Lukas squinted at the screen, then shook his head. “You gonna offer ‘em a job?”

  Tina had given up swearing at the camera and was squatting over an open toilet at the back of the cell, taking a piss.

  Her ‘baby’ didn’t even move a muscle.

  “Oh crap,” Tris said, as much to himself as to anyone. “I’d better go and have a chat with them.”

  ***

  It was with no small amount of trepidation that Tris approached the cell door. Faced with the option of talking to the prisoners through concealed speakers in the walls, he’d opted for the less intimidating, in-person approach.

  He was already starting to regret that decision.

  And he hadn’t even opened the door yet.

  With Lukas and two of his guards blocking the passageways in case Tina tried to bolt, Tris keyed the door open. He slipped inside, shutting it quickly behind him; being locked in was infinitely better than risking them getting out into the base.

  It wasn’t going to be fun, though.

  Tina screeched at him, her fingers hooked like claws. “What the fuck is going on here? You can’t keep us here like this! I’ve got rights, you know. I’m a human being!”

  Tris held both hands up, palms toward her, and let her rant.

  “You’re right,” he said, when she’d finished. “You’re absolutely right. I’m really sorry you’ve ended up like this. But this is a top-secret installation, and… now this is going to sound really creepy, but I’m afraid I can’t let you leave. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Whaddaya mean I can’t leave? Who the fuck are you! I din’t do nuffink. You pigs are all the same. I want my fucking phone call.”

  “Um…” Tris back-pedalled towards the door. “I’ll see what I can do, but we don’t really have any phones in here. National Security and all that.”

  “You ain’t a copper,” she spat at him.

  “Uuurgh,” agreed the man in the corner, who seemed to have woken up and taken an interest.

  “He needs his medicine!” Tina shouted, pointing at her friend. “You’re killin’ ‘im, keepin’ ‘im in here.”

  The man in question struggled to his feet, lurching forwards with his hand out. His beard was filthy and matted, the hair beneath his beany bright with grease. “Urrh!” he moaned. “You gorra… ciggie?”

  Tris glanced between them. He was rapidly losing control of the situation. “We’ve got a doctor right outside,” he offered.

  “He don’t need a fuckin’ doctor, he needs his medicine!” Tina stomped towards him, and Tris found his back was already up against the door. He knew he could never bring himself to hit this woman, so if she started in on him it was going to get ugly.

  “Look,” he said, his hands up and placating, “we’re moving to another location, where I can talk to my boss. I’ll do the best I can, but please just relax for a bit.”

  A tirade of abuse followed him out through the door.

  Lukas was standing there, a frown on his face. “That went well.”

  “What the hell do we do?” Tris sank back against the door, just as it shook from a kick. He grimaced. “We can’t keep them. But if we let them go…”

  “You’re psychic, right?” Lukas asked him. “Can you read their minds?”

  Tris shrugged. “I can try.” He buried the Gift deep whenever he was around a lot of people — he still didn’t have the control to keep out all their noise. At times he dearly missed the relief his dad’s pendant had offered. Until recently, the alien gem had completely closed the Gift off to him whenever he wore it. He seemed to have broken it though; now it almost made the voices louder instead of shutting them out. Sweat beaded on his brow and dripped down, as he tried to tune out the two-hundred-odd other people in range. “Tina, she’s… really angry,” he said at last. “And the other bloke is… confused?”

  He opened his eyes to see an unimpressed look on Lukas’ face. “Really? I’m glad we have that extra info. I would never have known.”

  Tris ignored the sarcasm, reaching out instead for someone he hoped would be more receptive. Kyra…?

  Shit, Tris! I nearly soiled myself. Don’t do that!

  Sorry. I’m having a bit of a problem.

  Me too! I’ve been to five different places and they still don’t have the right colour.

  Right colour of what? Never mind. Look, there’s a situation at the base. Two… ah, it looks like homeless people, have broken in. We’ve got them in holding, but I haven’t got a clue what to do with ‘em.

  Off the top of my head I’m thinking, shot while trying to escape?

  They’re innocent! If you want them dead, you’re doing it.

  Alright! I’ll come as quick as I can.

  To kill them?

  I don’t know. I haven’t met them yet.

  If you meet them, you’ll definitely want to kill them.

  He broke the contact, to find Lukas staring at him. “Talking to Kyra,” he explained, and watched as the big man gave an exaggerated reaction.

  “Seriously? One psychotic chick isn’t enough for you?”

  ***

  Tina still hadn’t shut up by the time Kyra returned.

  Tris was staring glumly at the monitor, listening to a stream of invective so exhaustive it bordered on instructional.

  Kyra took one look at the screen, flipped open a cover on the console below it, and hit a concealed button.

  Light flared briefly inside the room �
� when it faded, both the occupants were sprawled on the floor.

  “Stunner,” she explained, as Tris stared incredulously at her. “I’m not going to kill them for bad language.” She cocked her head at the display. “I might kill her for those boots though. You think they’d fit me?”

  “I think Kreon will be even more pissed off if we bring him trespassers and rob them.”

  Kyra quirked an eyebrow. “That’s your plan then? Pass it off to Kreon and let him deal with it?”

  “Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

  “No. Just checking.”

  They filed back around to the cell, and went in to check on the prisoners. Both were unconscious; the as-yet unnamed man was snoring like an asthmatic brontosaurus.

  Kyra wrinkled her nose. “Ew. I think someone peed themselves.”

  Tris nodded. “That sounds about right. So how do we transport them? It’s going to look pretty odd dragging them into a taxi…”

  “We’ll take an Earth vehicle from storage. Sera’s bound to have stocked this place with a good selection.”

  “Fair enough. You want to take him first? Or her?”

  Kyra made a disgusted face. “Neither! What we need is a work-shy pack animal with more muscles than sense.” She turned around and mimed surprise. “Oh, hi Lukas! We were just talking about you.”

  3

  Kreon watched as the first flames licked around the boots of Sera’s armour.

  The temple had been overrun. Rioters were roaming freely through the halls, smashing down doors, statues, anything they took offence at.

  Even now he could hear them pounding on the door he’d come through; somehow they’d found their way up through the labyrinth of grand hallways and ornamental staircases. Loader had stationed himself inside, volunteering to hold them back for as long as possible — but he refused to injure anyone. The talos was essentially indestructible and in no danger, but the mob had quickly found ways to skirt him. Now, only a single plate of steel remained to hold back the tide.