Warden: A Novel (26 page)

“I believe you’re right,” Barent said. “About everything. In fact, I believe governments are inevitable—an inescapable necessity. But they should never be an end unto themselves, because the institutions that comprise them create almost as many problems as they do solutions. There is no perfect form of government, Renik. I should know; I lived under quite a few different types back on Earth. Each has its own set of strengths and weaknesses, but it’s my firm belief that if you provide a level playing field for everyone, it does away with a lot of the inherent disparities that exist in every political system.”

“And how will you deal with those disparities in Le’sant, Sergeant Barent? A million people…” Renik shook his head. “How will you fix all of
those
problems?”

Barent replied without hesitation. “By force—at first, and then with a new government when the bullets stop flying. One that benefits
all
of the people.”

He placed his hand on Renik’s shoulder. “It would be good to have the Olin at my side for this. I watched them during the battle, and your people are disciplined and effective warriors. And you no longer have to fear the Exiles, Renik. I control them now. Besides, they’re leaving with me for the city. Send a force of Olin along as well, to bolster my numbers, and when this war is over Le’sant will help bring the
Olin
back to life, as much or as little as you like. And even if you plan to leave the ship as it is, you can still benefit from Le’sant’s production facilities—to create snowcraft, like mine, or other technology that will make the lives of your people better.”

“In exchange for?”

“Food. Supply us with everything we need to construct our own farms, and teach us how best to cultivate the crops and livestock. That’s it. It’s the only thing the people of Le’sant lack.”

Renik leaned forward in contemplation, staring at the distant wall of the tent. “You really expect my people to fight alongside the Exiles, Sergeant Barent? They have been our mortal enemy for centuries.”

“But how much easier would life be with them as allies instead? Or if not allies…then at least no longer adversaries. How much better would things be without that constant threat of war hanging over your head—a never-ending conflict that hasn’t benefited either side. Share the
Olin’s
bounty with the Exiles, Renik. And they can trade you caribou meat in return. You can still hunt for sport, of course, but think of the time and effort you’ll save by not sending massive expeditions out across the plains.”

Renik remained silent, but his expression made it clear he was carefully considering Barent’s words, mulling the future implications of each suggested course of action. When he finally spoke, there was weariness in Renik’s voice.

“Lusani told me what she witnessed as a child, and I would like to see a city like that for myself. But the most I can possibly pledge to you is fifteen thousand troops, and some of those are injured. We suffered heavy losses here today, Sergeant Barent, and collected far too many testaments for the Vade.”

“I understand,” he replied. “And would gladly welcome fifteen thousand Olin warriors.”

“How many Exiles do you command?” Renik asked him.

“As I’m told, around eighteen thousand.”

“And how big is the military force in Le’sant?”

“
Fifty
thousand,” Tana answered. “And they’re equipped with all of the latest technology, including armored vehicles and advanced weaponry.”

“The odds are not in our favor, Sergeant Barent.”

“No, Renik. They’re not. But I do expect to gather more support once we reach the city. How much, though, is anyone’s guess.”

“And if we lose this war?”

Barent gave the Olin a confident grin.

“That shouldn’t concern us at all, Renik.”

“Because if we lose, we’ll both be dead.”

Barent cautiously peered over the edge of the snowdrift and down into the shallow depression, watching as a dozen or so caribou casually dug at the terrestrial lichen seeded into the soil by the first generation of Olin. So far, his group had managed to escape detection by the skittish animals. And Barent urged everyone to remain as quiet as possible to keep from spooking them.

He scanned out beyond the creatures to take in the landscape, still in shock over how much everything had changed as they ventured further away from the crater wall. The snow had given way to patches of bare ground and open tundra, where sparse vegetation and sickly looking twigs marked areas transformed by the Olin. Torvus was still as far from paradise as one could wander, but it was no longer the sterile planet Barent had first set foot on.

“It’s like an entirely different world out here,” he whispered to Tana.

She, Renik, and S’to, were all crouched down at the outer edge of the depression with him. And while Barent could see that Tana shared his fascination with the animals and countryside, the other two looked completely bored by the scene.

“Our ancestors made the best of a very bad situation,” Renik said. Then he gestured in the direction of the grazing caribou. “This is a result of their efforts to prepare the planet’s soil in different locations, all across the plains, and to seed those areas with various types of plant life. The caribou, and the other smaller animals roaming free out here, would never have survived without the hard work of the Olin.”

“The Exiles had a hand in it as well,” S’to interjected. “This field, in particular.”

“Of course,” Renik conceded.

Barent continued watching the caribou feed for a few more peaceful moments, almost forgetting where he was.

This spot could easily be somewhere in the arctic,
he thought to himself.
It’s almost like being back on Earth.

“From what I can tell,” Barent said quietly, “the caribou have bred exceptionally well. It may be more work to hunt them down in the wild, but unlike the domesticated animals kept inside the
Olin,
these populations are self-sustaining. Now that the environment has been adapted to their needs, of course. The colony designers certainly knew what they were doing when they modified these animals, especially the accelerated gestation cycles and reduced dietary requirements.”

“The plants benefitted from their tampering as well,” Renik added. “Both inside and outside the ship. Each of them designed to require less soil and water, yet yield much greater harvests.”

“Yes,” Barent agreed. “I’d say the level of success I’ve seen speaks for itself. Despite the catastrophic crash of the
Olin,
and its separation from the
Le’sant,
life has managed to thrive on this planet.”

But as incredible as it all was, Barent realized it wasn’t just the plants and animals that had adapted to the unforeseen circumstances on Torvus. The people had also been fundamentally changed by the colony’s disastrous beginnings. He looked at his three companions—all born and raised within a few hundred kilometers of each other, yet all from very different backgrounds. They were products of distinct communities shaped by disparate experiences, and each of them was driven by a unique set of priorities. Their mindsets had been forged long ago; their ways of life based on the resources their respective societies possessed. But in some cases, Barent recognized, it was the things they
didn’t
have that ended up being the primary impetus for transformation. That was hardly a surprise, though. In matters of survival, scarcity and adaptation were often inextricably intertwined.

“This…” Barent said. “All of this. Is a testament to the ingenuity of humanity. When everything went wrong, as it did with this colony, we still found a way to survive. Your ancestors overcame tremendous odds to create three entirely different societies, and none of them are even close to what the original colonists envisioned for Torvus. For someone like me, who was there at the very beginning of it all back on Earth, it’s rather amazing.”

“We should go back now, Barent,” S’to said, his voice empty of emotion. “The tribe will be ready to depart soon.”

“He’s right,” Renik agreed. “By the time we get back to the
Olin,
everything should be ready to go.”

“Very well,” Barent said reluctantly.

If any of them understood the importance of what he was trying to say, they didn’t show it. But maybe that was because Barent had a singular perspective, one they couldn’t possibly appreciate. Sergeant Barent was the only person on this entire planet—the only one still alive—who could comprehend the enormity of what happened to this colony. And he realized with a small degree of sorrow that it was something he alone would
ever
understand.

“Let’s go,” he said.

When the four of them stood up the caribou alerted to their presence, and the animals bolted in the opposite direction as fast as they could run. The group began making their way back to the horses, waiting patiently about a dozen meters away, and Barent turned to take one last look at the caribou, now galloping full out across the open plain.

Just remarkable.

They hopped up into their saddles and then Renik and S’to rode ahead, allowing Tana and Barent some privacy as they fell in behind them. It was a beautiful, sun-filled day, and Tana gazed around at the landscape appreciatively as they set off on their mounts. Despite the cold, she dropped her hood, basking in the abundant light as they trotted along. It was a rare experience for Tana.

Le’sant received sunlight, of course. But on the crater floor, it was always diffused through the omnipresent mist drifting through the air, or blocked by snow flurries clouding the sky. Here, Tana could
feel
the sunlight on her face. It brightened her mood considerably, but not nearly enough to make her forget what was coming.

“We’ll be back in Le’sant in a couple of days. Can you believe it, Barent? It’ll feel strange being surrounded by walls again.”

“It will,” he agreed. “Just remember that we’ll be using those walls for cover as thousands of people try to kill us.”

“Well, yes. There is that.”

Tana’s gaze drifted down to her horse, unable to believe she was actually riding the animal. But it had been much easier to learn than she’d first thought possible, and despite her initial misgivings, Tana discovered that she really enjoyed the experience.

She watched the horse’s shoulders rocking back and forth as it trudged deeper into the thickening snow—the gentle motion lulling her into a sense of calm. But the feeling was short-lived, because the closer they got to the crater, the more familiar the terrain became.

Snow and ice.

“Barent… We don’t
have
to go back, you know.”

“I have no choice,” he replied. “You know that.”

Barent guided his horse over closer to Tana’s. “Part of me wants to stay here and build a new life—to forget all about Le’sant and its problems. But the people are counting on me, Tana. And I helped make this mess they’re caught in. My biggest regret is that it’s taken five hundred years for me to get a chance fix it.”

“The Collective isn’t your fault,” she replied. “And how can you be so certain that you’ll succeed?
If
you can fix it, Barent.
If
you survive. There are far too many ‘ifs’ for my liking.”

“Well,
if
I’m being honest with you, Tana, and I always promise to be, the odds are not that great. Even if we can gather up a decent amount of support in the city, the Collective army still has us heavily outgunned.”

Barent reached over and placed his hand on Tana’s cheek. “And if you want another little bit of honesty, I’d rather you stayed behind.”

“Like hell,” Tana snapped. “If you go, I go. We’re a team now, Barent.”

“A team, eh?” he said, smiling broadly.

“Don’t get cute with me,” Tana said. “You know damn well what I mean.”

“I feel the same way, Tana.”

“Good,” she replied.

Tana fought to hide her own smile but it was entirely impossible. “So now that we’ve established you’re hopelessly in love with me, Barent—now what?”

“I suppose we could spend a lifetime together.”

“And what about your
wives
?” Tana said sarcastically.

“All kidding aside,” Barent replied, “I have no idea what to do about them. I can’t just send them away; it wouldn’t look right to the Exiles. They might see it as a sign of weakness, or a rejection of their customs.”

“Then what
will
you do?”

“Nothing, for now. I’ll focus on this war we’re planning first. And then, if I survive, I’ll figure something out.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Tana said. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Barent. And if you don’t, I will. It would be a shame if the Great Betrayer lived through four wars just to be taken down by a lowly dagger-wielding thief.”

“Actually, I think this will make five wars.”

“The threat still stands, Barent.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed.

“See that you do.”

The sight of a massive caravan greeted the group when they arrived back at the
Olin
.

In many ways, it reminded Barent of a travel formation nineteenth-century armies might have used to trek to the battlefield—minus the cannon and other artillery trailing behind the horses, of course. But those ancient armaments would have certainly been welcome additions for the battle ahead.

For the last two days, the Olin had been breaking down their camp and getting prepared for the long journey to Le’sant, all while the Exiles brought in their own materials from encampments out on the plains. Barent saw many more people here now too, as every one of the Exiles from Astok’s tribe—from
his
tribe—came in from the surrounding countryside to join the expeditionary force. He even noticed a few children interspersed throughout the Exile ranks. But as Barent watched them sharpening their knives, and deftly controlling their mounts with near-expert prowess, he realized that they were children in name only.

Many more Olin had taken the field as well, and more still were filtering out from the ship—carrying supplies, or leading their horses to empty spots in the formation. But regardless of the amount of ongoing activity, Barent could tell that his army was almost ready to depart.