Warden: A Novel (14 page)

“I told you this trip would be much nicer,” Barent said.

“I’m not sure that riding out in the ice and snow to the middle of nowhere counts as
nicer
,” Tana replied. “But I’ll definitely be warmer.”

When Barent was fully armed and armored, he confirmed that Tana had enough supplies for both of them, and then he grabbed the comm unit and headed for the exit. As they stepped outside Barent pulled the door shut behind them, and then he latched it and handed the comm to Tana.

“Wait here,” he directed. “I’ll go bring it out.” Tana nodded, and Barent trudged over the top of the small berm to get the snowcraft.

She watched as he pressed an exterior switch and the clear canopy swung open. Then Barent placed his foot into one of the recessed steps on the side of the vehicle and hopped inside. The top slid shut smoothly, and a few seconds later Tana heard the engines struggling to start. It took several minutes for Barent to finally get them running, but eventually the snowcraft rose a few inches up off the ground and began sliding forward. Barent punched it through the berm and melting snow sploshed up onto Tana’s legs, covering her feet.

Great,
she thought.
It’s already starting…

Barent opened the canopy again and Tana kicked the snow off her shoes before climbing inside. Unlike the rest of her body Tana’s face was uncovered, and she felt a steady wave of heat rising up out of the vehicle, caressing her cheeks. Tana relaxed immediately. She placed the supplies she was carrying on the flat bench-seat behind her—one that could easily accommodate a third passenger, if necessary—and then Tana settled down into the surprisingly comfortable second seat—right behind Barent. She leaned back into it as he closed the canopy again, and it quickly grew warm inside the snowcraft.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all
, Tana thought.

Barent carefully slid the vehicle down the narrow passageway leading out from the hidden base, gradually picking up speed as they broke away from its rocky confines—sailing out into the open field of ice and snow surrounding the outpost. Tana turned around to look back and could barely make out the entryway to the shelter. Barent was right. If you didn’t already know where it was, it would be nearly impossible to find. The hideout looked just like any of the other rocky prominences jutting up from the crater floor.

“I’m just going to head in the general direction of the beacon for now,” Barent said. “But keep an eye on the comm unit. When it stops flashing and turns solid blue, let me know.”

“No problem,” Tana said. “But what does it mean when it quits flashing?”

“It means that we’ll be close enough to use the snowcraft’s own comm and navigation systems to pinpoint the exact origin of the signal.”

“This is all pretty low-tech, Barent. Even for five hundred years ago.”

“Maybe. But it’s all we’ve got right now.”

“Understood,” Tana replied.

“It’s going to be a little while before we’re close enough for anything to happen,” Barent told her. “Why don’t you sit back and relax. Try to enjoy the view while you can.”

At first Tana thought he was joking, but when she looked outside she realized that there really was a certain beauty to it all. The snow flurries had subsided for the moment, and even though the ever-present mist remained, Tana could still see a great distance out across the surface.

Rolling hills of wind-swept snow dominated the landscape around them. The various sized mounds were smooth and flawless, presenting the most vivid shade of white that Tana had ever seen. And though a few patches of blue ice stood out in sharp contrast, pulling the eye in their direction, white was the color that ruled the crater floor. The terrain was stark, yes, but it was also serene, disrupted only by a few large rocks breaking up through the surface—like stone whales breaching in an ocean of ivory, frozen in time before they could return below. And in the furthest distance—yet now within easy view—loomed the crater wall, framing the horizon like a majestic, snow-capped marker, beyond which lay an entire planet that no living person had ever seen.

Barent said that a few of the First Ones had travelled out beyond the crater on their initial survey missions, but Tana was certain that no one had left the city for the last few centuries—at least. Most of the citizens felt the same way she did. Why bother? What could possibly be out there that was worth the risk? But on the clearest days you could just make out the crater walls from atop the highest buildings in Le’sant—lurching up toward the sky as if they were trying to escape the planet. And the people of the city couldn’t help but wonder what lay out beyond them.

I guess today we’ll find out,
Tana mused.

Barent’s voice rose above the gentle hum of the engines, breaking the relative silence to interrupt Tana’s thoughts. “So, tell me about your family,” he said.

“What?” The question caught her completely off guard.

“Your family. I told you about mine…albeit, reluctantly. Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your family.”

You mean the father I never knew?

Or the mother I killed…

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tana lied. “Just the normal stuff. No different than anyone else in Le’sant, I suppose.”

“Do you remember when I said that I was good at reading people? I know that you’re lying to me, Tana. And I understand. It’s none of my business. But it makes me think you’re hiding a pretty interesting story.”

“It’s possible,” she replied. “And one day I may even let you hear it. But not today.”

Her tone was flippant, but Barent heard the pain in Tana’s voice—even though she was trying like hell to hide it from him. He decided to let it drop. Everyone had secrets, and even though she’d managed to pry Barent’s out of him, he imagined that Tana had been through something equally as bad…possibly even worse. If she didn’t want to talk about it that was her choice to make. And he would respect it.

They continued on the rest of the journey in silence.

Barent watched the terrain scanner carefully for weak spots in the ground below, so he could perform an emergency course correction if they encountered any trouble. But so far everything had gone perfectly. They were following an automated route the snowcraft had chosen toward the immense wall ahead of them, and two steeply sloping natural pathways popped up on the display, highlighted in red. They both led up the wall and out of the crater, toward the true surface of Torvus, and Barent knew that no matter which one he chose it was going to be a
very
rough ride. He picked the route that seemed the least treacherous and pointed the snowcraft toward it.

The wind began picking up as they got closer to the wall, growing stronger with every kilometer they traversed. And when they finally arrived at the edge of the crater—at the very base of the gigantic walls—the shearing forces pushed so hard that Barent had to fight to control the vehicle. The powerful gusts were making it difficult to line up with the path he’d chosen to the surface, and the fierce winds were driving so much snow through the air that Barent lost all visibility; he was forced to drive with instruments only. When he finally entered the canyon to begin ascending the wall, the wind picked up even more—the smaller space channeling it into near hurricane force velocities. It was as if the might of the entire planet was trying to push them back down to the crater floor.

“Hold on,” Barent yelled out, pushing his voice above the loud roar outside. Even with the snowcraft sealed up tightly the sound of the wind went howling through interior of the vehicle.

It was a sharp and unsteady climb up the wall of the crater, and at the fastest speed Barent could safely maintain it took them nearly ten minutes to scale the full height of it. Despite his caution, the snowcraft brushed up against the sides of the rocky channel several times, but in each instance Barent corrected the drift before they spun out of control and crashed.

Tana held her breath as they shot out of the narrow canyon like a bullet, settling onto an open plain to leave the crater floor behind. She saw the actual surface of Torvus for the very first time.

“Are you okay?” Barent asked her, gliding the snowcraft to a stop now that they’d escaped the powerful wind.

“I’m fine,” Tana replied. “But not in any real hurry to do that again.”

“Me either,” Barent agreed. “The temperature differential between the warmer crater floor and the air up here makes for some powerful winds flaring up the wall.”

“I noticed. Hold up, the light on the comm just went solid blue.”

Barent switched the snowcraft’s comm unit on and deployed the directional antennae. The coordinates were sent to his nav-screen in less than a minute, and then he hit the throttle and they went sailing across the surface.

Unlike inside the crater, the air here was crystal clear, and the sky bright and sunny. A massive, barren plain extended out before them for as far as the eye could see, and the only discernable features were some irregular mounds of snow—shaped and rounded by winds and drift—and several boulders that had rolled down from the tall mountains bordering the crater’s edge. But there were no rocky outcroppings like those that decorated the crater floor, and the snow wasn’t nearly as thick either.

Barent knew from the Torvus mission briefings that there were many places along the crater’s circumference where you could stand on the surface and look right down into it. But the crater wall was a veritable mountain range at other points around its perimeter, climbing high above the pristine terrain of the planet to completely conceal the massive basin behind it. As Barent looked around it became obvious that they’d emerged in one of the more elevated areas—with alpine-like peaks rising so high above them that they rivaled anything found back on Earth. He glanced down at the small monitor to check his bearings.

“We’re getting close,” he announced.

Barent coaxed the snowcraft off to the left and placed it on a course running parallel to the crater wall, driving right along the base of the impressive mountain range. “It shouldn’t be more tha—”

They struck something hard and went sailing off to the side, spinning out of control and away from the mountain. The snowcraft inverted completely, but Barent swiftly regained control of it and brought the vehicle back upright. He heard Tana moan behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. My head struck the canopy but I’m not hurt. What did we hit?”

“I have no idea. But what little I saw of it sure as hell didn’t look right.”

“Didn’t look
right
?”

“It didn’t look like something that was supposed to be there,” Barent clarified. “I’m going back to have another look.”

As he swung the snowcraft around to retrace their path Tana felt blood starting to run down from her forehead. She reached up to wipe it away and felt a growing lump.

“What the hell,”
she heard Barent exclaim.

Tana looked out through the canopy and immediately saw what prompted his outburst. But she couldn’t fathom what they were looking at either.

“What
is
that?” she asked.

“I don’t believe it,” Barent replied. “It’s a horse.”

“What’s a horse?”

“You must be joking. You really don’t know what a horse is?”

“No idea.”

Barent pulled alongside the animal and popped the canopy open, and then he jumped out to examine the creature. Tana climbed out as well, but staggered a bit when her feet hit the snow.

Whoa, I feel a little woozy,
she realized.
I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

“It’s definitely a horse,” Barent called over to her. “It must have been lying down in the snow; the white fur made it hard to see.” Tana watched him lean in closer to get a better look. “Unfortunately,” Barent added, “it looks like the impact killed it.”

Tana stared down at the large beast. It was thickly furred with a long snout, and lying flat on its side, giving her an excellent view of its powerful legs and thick musculature. She’d never seen an animal so
big
before, other than in the recorded histories, but Tana thought it looked vaguely familiar. The histories… Yes, that was it.

“You know, I think I may have seen horses in some books about Earth,” she said. “But they looked different, somehow.”

“This animal was heavily modified for the climate on Torvus,” Barent explained. “Typically, horses don’t have thick fur like that. Well, most of them don’t. On average, they tend to be much smaller too.”

“So… Can you eat them?” Tana asked.

“That’s the idea. But you can ride them as well. They make excellent transportation over rugged terrain.”

Tana reached down to touch the white fur and lost her balance, tumbling over onto the horse. She felt the warmth radiating off the animal’s body before Barent helped her to her feet again.

“You’re bleeding,” he said in a concerned voice. “Here, let me take a look at it.”

Barent wiped the blood away from Tana’s forehead and examined the cut. “Actually, it doesn’t look that bad. But head wounds always bleed like hell.” Barent squinted his eyes as he peered in closer. “What’s this scar you have up here?”

Tana knocked his hands away and took a step back. “It’s nothing, Barent. Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“That’s fine.” Barent shrugged. “Just keep some pressure on that cut until it stops bleeding.” He turned his attention back to the horse. “So where did this guy come from, then?”

Barent went over to the snowcraft and withdrew a mag-lens from the rear bench, holding it up to his eyes to get a better look around. As he scanned out ahead of them, tracing along the edge of the crater, he noted a bright flash of silver, blotting out his view. Barent dialed the magnification back and saw something massive pushed up against the base of a mountain—an object so large that at first it defied comprehension. But as Barent focused in closer he picked out a few telltale markings, and knew exactly what it was.

Son of a bitch,
he thought to himself.
I don’t believe it.