Warden: A Novel (36 page)

“Oh…some of them, I’m sure,” Golen replied. “And they’ll be drawn out into the open where we can deal with them. But mark my words, Sergeant Barent: by this time next week, this will all be over, with or without your cooperation. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with malcontents. As you say, it’s why we have the military.”

Barent grinned. “I told you, Golen. It won’t work. You have no idea what’s coming. But you are going to find out…and soon.”

Minister Golen scowled, sliding his chair back from the table to stand up. “I’m done here,” he announced. Then he placed the recording device back in his pocket and strode over to the storage cabinet.

“General Malves,” Golen said over his shoulder. “On the off chance that Sergeant Barent and his Warden friends really do have some kind of surprise up their sleeves, interrogate him and find out what they’re up to.”

And that was exactly what Barent had hoped for.

The Collective forces were already on high alert, so warning Golen that something was about to happen hadn’t changed anything. But it
did
buy Barent some time while they attempted to interrogate him. And if he had time, he had hope. Despite the risks, Barent knew they’d never get the truth out of him about the forces he’d assembled, or his plans to take the city, so he’d had little to lose in the gambit.

Minister Golen keyed in a security code to open the cabinet, and then reached in to pull Barent’s pistols out, twisting them around in the harsh light to admire the weapons from different angles.

“The pistols of the Great Betrayer,” he said. “These will be the pinnacles of my collection. I’ll be certain to display them right next to Dani Lok’s own weapons, Sergeant.” Golen turned around in time to see Barent’s eyebrows lift at the mention of his former lover’s name.

“Oh yes, Sergeant Barent. I know all about your relationship with Lok. And how she betrayed you at the end of the war. Her final testament in the Vade is most revealing—the unsanitized version, of course.” Golen smirked. “You know, she actually regretted your death at the end. For what that’s worth. Maybe you can find some small amount of solace in that before you truly die this time. Just think, Sergeant, once I add your weapons to my display, you and Lok will even be reunited again, in a manner of speaking.”

Barent did feel comforted by Dani’s regret. It told him that her motivations were genuine, and not personal—that she was worried about the future of the colony, and did what she thought was best for the people of the city. So even though Golen had brought up Dani Lok to torment him, it had had quite the opposite effect.

Since Golen appeared to be in a sharing mood, flush with the feeling of impending victory, Barent had a question of his own.

“How did you find us, Golen? How did you learn about my meeting with the Wardens at the breakdown facility?”

“You already know that Vane was ours,” he explained, continuing to examine one of the pistols closely. Golen paused to brush two fingers across the mahogany grips, admiring the darkish red wood. He realized that particular species of tree hadn’t made the trip to Torvus, making the weapons even more unique. “He couldn’t contact us directly, of course. But when Vane reprogrammed our information platform, he secretly instructed it to record your transmissions and then return to us. So once we knew where you were headed, we simply monitored the breakdown yards from a distance until we saw you enter. It was easy.”

“I wouldn’t call it
easy
,” Malves interjected. “I lost nearly a hundred men on that operation. And many more were injured.”

“But the Wardens are scattered,” Golen countered. “And we have Sergeant Barent. A victory by anyone’s definition.”

Golen returned the pistols to the cabinet and closed the door, resetting the lock. When he turned to address Malves, the general noted the concern on his face.

“How many Wardens still remain at large?” Golen asked.

“We think no more than fifty. We’re still trying to find them, but they never stay in one place long enough to track.”

“Fifty Wardens could create a lot of trouble,” Golen said. “A smaller force than that attacked the armory. But I think I know how we can draw them out—and break their will at the same time.”

“How?” Malves asked.

“We know which Wardens are still alive, don’t we?”

“More or less…”

“And they all have families.”

“Minister!” Malves reacted indignantly, walking over to stand before Golen. “We can’t… Are you suggesting that we kill their families?”

“Suggesting? No, General Malves, I’m
ordering
you to do it. The Wardens will swarm out of hiding in a hopeless stab at revenge. And then we’ll wipe them out, putting this nuisance behind us once and for all. But more importantly, it will send a clear message to those who oppose us that no one is safe.”

When Sergeant Barent spoke, his words didn’t come out as a threat, they came out as a promise. “You’re an animal, Golen…one that needs to be put down. And I
will
see that happen, no matter how long it takes.”

Barent’s voice was calm, but laced with menace. If anything, the lack of outward emotion made the Warden seem all the more dangerous.

But Golen was unfazed, and he stepped over to the door to pull it open. “Find out what he knows, General Malves. And then kill him. Do it quickly—and the same with the Warden’s families.” He started to leave, but then Golen stopped and tapped his forehead lightly. “I almost forgot. Have Barent’s pistols sent to my office, I’ll clear some space for them.”

Sergeant Barent watched as the leader of the Collective left the room, wondering at the callousness that made life so inconsequential to a man like Golen. How could a person become so twisted—so cold and indifferent—that they could order the deaths of innocent people, just to make a largely futile statement?

But Barent knew there had always been men and women like Minister Golen, and the oppressive regimes they invariably administered. It was diseased people like that who’d driven the brutal wars back on Earth, sociopathic murderers who were instrumental in making humans flee their home planet to start over. They’d forced a host of humanity out deep into the heavens, searching for new lives—far away from the madness that had killed so many billions.

But no matter how distant they flew across the cosmos Barent knew it would never be far enough. Because monsters like Golen were proof that mankind’s baser nature followed him no matter where he went.

Even out to the stars.

So far, so good,
Tana thought to herself.

She was grateful, and more than a little surprised that things had gone so smoothly up to this point—far better than she’d ever imagined possible with these dissimilar groups of people. Each faction held contradictory views about how life on this planet should be lived, driven by their own separate paths to survival over the years. Yet they were all working together now toward a common goal.

Through brute force with the Exiles, clever bargaining with the Olin, and what Tana believed bordered on religious adoration by the Wardens, Barent had managed to put this loose coalition of forces together in a very short amount of time. But getting them to
work
together might be an even tougher task. She knew that each of the groups were deadly in their own right—battle tested, and with the scars to prove it—but she couldn’t help but wonder if that effectiveness might diminish as they fought jointly, side-by-side.

Tana had no military experience whatsoever. But to her, two sworn enemies, and an elite group of highly trained warriors that didn’t trust either one of them, didn’t seem like the makings of a particularly cohesive fighting force. But there was promise in their power, and in Barent’s absence Sergeant Dura had done all he could to forge the Olin and Exiles into a unified army—with a complete, if somewhat tenuous, chain of command. The Wardens they’d meet up with later to complete the coalition would follow his orders without question, and as for the downtrodden… Well, who really knew what they’d do when the war began?

Tana gazed down at the plan of attack Dura had lain out on the table—hand-drawn on the back of an emergency checklist from the
Le’sant.
The thick piece of paper was another relic Tana had found in one of the crates, and she’d assumed it was a redundant hard copy kept in case the power went out, and the crew could no longer access the
Le’sant’s
electronic information systems.

The faded, off-white sheet featured a rudimentary sketch of Le’sant’s four districts, complete with the locations of the city gates. It also detailed the primary roads looping through the different sections, and the probable placement of Collective forces along them. As Tana examined the details of the drawing, she noticed S’to and Renik studying it as well. And she could almost see their confusion drifting away as Sergeant Dura provided them both with explicit instructions. But the Warden wasn’t just
telling
them about their part in the attack, he was also explaining
why
each group had been chosen for it, cutting off any objections that might arise due to their intense rivalry.

Smart man.

Tana regarded the Warden closely as he continued discussing his strategy, noticing the weariness in his eyes, and the lingering effects of his injuries.

How long has it been since he’s slept?
she wondered.

Despite his condition, nursing wounds received from both the Collective and the Exiles, Sergeant Dura had spent the last three hours training the Olin how to use the plasma rifles. Most of that time had been spent showing them how to kill as many enemy troops as possible without hitting their own soldiers with the deadly weapons, but he’d also taken the opportunity to study the Olin’s own methods of warfare, greatly admiring their combat skills with the longblades and bows.

When he’d finished with the Olin, Dura also evaluated the fighting effectiveness of the reluctant and combative Exiles. And though he came away impressed with their capacity for violence, Sergeant Dura secretly confessed doubts about his ability to control them once the fighting actually began. The uncertainties of battle—the constantly shifting currents of war, driven by successes and failures in the field—often sent even the most highly trained forces into chaos. And following orders was how you best recovered from that disarray to keep fighting. But the Exiles were more akin to wild animals than soldiers—unbroken beasts chomping at an unaccustomed bit. And Sergeant Dura knew that they couldn’t…they
wouldn’t,
be tamed. Tana remembered reassuring him that the Exiles would follow Barent’s orders without question. But then Dura had reminded
her
that Barent wouldn’t be there.

A gruff voice brought Tana out of her reverie, sending her attention back down to the map.

“So we’re going to let these
peasants
start the fighting?” S’to complained, the sound of his disapproval filling the room.

“The downtrodden will overpower the few Collective troops in the Outland,” Dura answered, working to maintain his calm, “and then spread out to occupy a section of the Common Ring. That will force the Collective to dispatch more soldiers to restore order. Based on their response to this type of unrest in the past, they’ll probably only send a small force, not expecting the downtrodden to give them any real trouble. But because they’re on high alert now, and certain to suspect some type of involvement by the Wardens, those troops will be heavily armed.”

“If I understand this correctly,” Renik said, pointing at a location circled on the map, “when the Collective troops arrive here, near the southern gate, that’s when we launch the first part of the
actual
attack.”

“Yes,” Dura confirmed. “As I said, they won’t be expecting much resistance, so whatever troops they send against the downtrodden will be quickly overrun when our real army begins pouring in though the city wall. Once we’ve overwhelmed and defeated their forces, we’ll distribute whatever weapons we capture and continue moving north to occupy this part of the Common Ring.” Dura indicated a location deeper inside the city, right at the border with the Middle District. “Our forces will gather in this area, and then pause the attack to fortify our position. The monitoring stations placed along the border will show a large, unknown enemy, consolidating its troops and preparing to drive straight into the city proper. I expect a swift reaction from the Collective.”

“So why not do that?” S’to asked. “Keep pushing forward. Maintain our momentum.”

“Because once the Collective army realizes that the first troops they sent were killed, and that an actual invasion is taking place, they will panic and overreact—sending the majority of their army in response. They have never faced anything like this before, so they’ll throw everything they have at us. It’s a natural reaction, and I can almost guarantee that’s exactly how it’ll play out.”

“And if they believe our army is all concentrated in that one area…” Tana said.

Renik finished the thought for her. “Then
theirs
will be drawn there as well. With any luck, the bulk of the Collective army will be sitting in one spot.”

“Exactly,” Sergeant Dura replied, watching with satisfaction as understanding dawned on their faces. He placed two fingers on the paper and made sweeping motions around both sides of the city. “That’s when our reserve forces will move around the perimeter of Le’sant in what’s known as a pincer movement,” he explained, tapping both fingers to indicate the city’s side gates. “Those units will enter the city here and here, storming their way through to the Middle District before turning south—coming right up behind the Collective army. When our troops are all in position, we’ll have the enemy completely surrounded. And then we can begin taking them apart, piece by piece. After each strike, we’ll use the horses and our greater mobility on foot to duck into alleyways and dart behind buildings. If we can keep punching hard and backing off, we should be able to stay away from their more powerful weapons. We may not be able to go toe-to-toe with the Collective, but by hitting fast and retreating, and drawing their forces into ambushes whenever possible, we
can
fight a solid war of attrition against them. It’s our best shot against APCs and plasma rifles. Hell, it’s our
only
shot.”