Lancelot, Page 4

  The projectile rocketed from the side of the vessel the way a proton torpedo or ion missile would, then cruised across space. The proton flag was a fraction of the size of a weapon, however, and instead of causing destruction, it exploded into a carefully arrayed burst of light. The pattern of luminous colors would continue to be displayed above the planet for years.

  In the past, proton flags had been used by victorious vessels to show who had defeated another ship. It was a way for rulers and warlords and pirates to let the rest of the galaxy know who had conquered a defeated craft floating uselessly in space. During Julian’s campaign, the proton flags were used for a different purpose. One was left above each planet or colony that was admitted to the Round Table as a sign of the Round Table’s continued expansion.

  The flag deployed above Cartha-6 exploded into bright blues, reds, and yellows. At the center was a hollow blue circle ringed by blue wedges like gear teeth. Then a red gear appeared around the blue gear, which was then encircled by another in yellow, like cogs in a great machine. And then, inside the hollow blue gear, a symbol formed. It was the multi-tailed blue dragon of the former CasterLan Kingdom. After three seconds it faded away and was replaced by the purple warhawk of the former Vonnegan Empire. After another three seconds it switched to the silhouette of a sword and hammer cracking the middle of a shield. This was the crest of another former kingdom. While the blue, red, and yellow circles and wedges remained in place, the symbol in the very center of the banner continued to change from one royal crest to another, memorializing every former kingdom and territory that once had stood alone but was now part of the Round Table.

  Art 2

  Round Table Insignia, by Chris Dietzel, digital art

  9

  In the darkness of the cave, figures stood in three different places. On the wall nearest to the entrance, stood a trio of aliens with leathery grey skin. Like all the other figures in the room, they had four legs and four arms.

  Across from them, on the opposite wall, were seven members of the same alien race, lined in a perfect row against the rock that lay behind them. Instead of hard grey skin, they were covered in brown and bronze armor. The battle plates covered every leg, every arm, and every part of their face.

  The warriors were twice the size of the three aliens on the other side of the room. Part of this was because of the additional muscle in their frames, but it was mostly due to the immense amount of armor they wore and their battle suits. It was more than a metal casing; it was armor on top of armor, with joints built under each layer to allow the warriors’ four legs to move in any direction, their torso to swivel in two hundred and seventy degrees of motion, and their larger upper arms to attack in every direction except directly behind them. Because of the dramatic size difference between the aliens on either side of the room and the fact that the warriors were mostly in the dark, they appeared more like ominous shadows looming in the background than participants in the Carthagen proceedings.

  Unlike at the edges of the cave chamber, light flooded the center of the room. The two figures standing there also wore full armor. Their torsos were divided into two main parts. The lower section was horizontal with legs protruding from it. The upper half of their torso was vertical in the fashion of a human waist and abdomen, with two short arms extending from the sides. Further up, where a human’s arms would be, the warriors had a pair of longer, thicker arms.

  The bright light above the two combatants, who faced each other without moving, provided additional detail that could not be made out on their armor of the warriors in the shadows. The bronze and brown pieces of armor were connected with strips of thin gold lining. Both of their upper arms had symbols printed on the shoulder plates of their protective suits. The symbols looked vaguely like a sword that flourished out to the either side in two different places, once near the tip of the sword’s blade and again near the base of the sword’s handle.

  The Cartha sector was originally named after these beings. At one time, the Carthagen race had spread across every colonized planet in that region of space. Now, though, they were a reclusive race, their numbers having vastly declined over the years. Their dominance in the Cartha sector had been radically altered hundreds of years earlier when a vessel from distant space arrived with friendly aliens who seemed to want nothing more than to open new trade routes. However, they had also unknowingly brought disease to the Carthagens, viruses that they hadn’t been exposed to before and were extremely susceptible to. In a matter of days, the sickness had spread to every planet where Carthagens lived. Millions died.

  In the centuries since, instead of having a presence on every planet in the sector, the last of their race lived in near isolation amongst the caves and tunnels of the vast Orleans asteroid field in the middle of the sector. Seclusion grew upon itself, and the Carthagens became fiercely private. They shunned other alien races and the invisible death they might be carrying. And they never forgot the plague that almost caused their extinction.

  Hidden in the Orleans asteroid field, they did everything they could to ensure the survival of their race. They created a series of chambers and tunnels that provided a livable environment for their members. They used their warriors to repel or kill anyone who tried to visit. On the rare occasions it was required of them to leave the asteroid caves, the Carthagens used a combination of bots and force fields to keep themselves isolated from foreigners. Only a few traders were accepted by the Carthagens. Everyone else was turned away, regardless of their intentions. If they refused to obey directions and leave, they were killed.

  The Carthagen leaders, known as the Dauphin, handled all matters of leadership and protection of the Carthagen species. They were also the only Carthagens in the cave chamber without full armor, choosing instead the simple breathing mask that covered their tiny mouths and noses. The mask was clear and stopped just under their completely black eyes. The Dauphin never left the chamber from which they ruled. The room was protected with a vast array of sensors and environmental controls. And by the Carthagen warriors.

  The nine warriors never removed their armor except in the safety of their private chambers. It was to protect from illness, but also part of Carthagen tradition.

  The three Dauphin looked at the pair of Carthagen warriors in the middle of the room. Each of their throats moved in a subtle yet constant motion. They barely moved their mouths when they spoke, however, so it was nearly impossible to tell which of the three Dauphin was speaking at any one time. Each of their voices was low and they hummed their words.

  One of them asked, “Lancelot, Swordnew, are you ready?”

  The two warriors bowed first to the Dauphin, then to each other. Both of them, as well as the other warriors lined against the back wall, remained perfectly silent.

  “Begin,” said the Dauphin.

  Immediately, the one they called Lancelot reached behind his back with his two short arms and drew two metal cylinders, pointing them at his opponent. A long beam of metal extended from either handle. Both were longer than two Carthagen bodies lined up in a row. Lancelot took a small step forward, ensuring the tip of the lance was nearly able to touch the Carthagen facing him. The metal started out as wide as the handle from which Lancelot held it, but as it extended further it narrowed until its tip was a pinpoint. Once they were fully extended, both weapons ignited with energy and light. Vibro lances. The two weapons pointed directly at the warrior across from him.

  Whether in response to this or as part of a ritual, Swordnew did the same thing, first withdrawing the two handles with his short arms, then pointing and extending the weapons, and lastly igniting them. Except instead of lances, he held a pair of vibro swords. Two glowing beams pointed from each Carthagen, directly toward his opponent. The weapons overlapped and sizzled against each other.

  Swordnew took a small step backward, each of his four armored boots retreating just a little. With his lower arms still holding a pair of swords to his opponent, he reached with his two higher, longer a
rms, and drew a second pair of curved swords. These he also pointed at the opponent in front of him. They too burst into light.

  “I’m not afraid of any other Carthagen,” Swordnew said in a low rumble as he faced Lancelot.

  “Because you’re slow to learn,” his opponent said, also reaching behind him with his two upper arms and also coming back with two more weapons, a pair of straight swords.

  Instead of igniting into energy, the swords left a faint trail of brown mist—the color of the cave they were in—as they moved through the air. And when Lancelot’s wrists moved and the swords changed angles, the blades seemed to vanish, then come back into sight.

  Lancelot swiveled both of his wrists three times, causing the pair of Meursault blades to produce circles of colored mist where the blades passed through the air. Moments later, the first loop of vapor on either side began to dissolve. Then the second. Finally, the third.

  The two Carthagens remained locked in this stance—two swords and two vibro lances pointed in one direction and four vibro swords pointed in the other. For Lancelot, it was a moment of calm and peace. For his opponent, it was the last moment he would have to try and save himself from injury and pain.

  Lancelot, with his pair of Meursault blades, gave a flick of the wrist, causing the slightest whiff of brown mist to appear at the end of either sword. Immediately, Swordnew dashed forward with his four vibro swords. Two of the swords glanced off the ends of Lancelot’s vibro lances, causing a bright flash of light to engulf the room and allowing Swordnew to get close enough with his two remaining weapons that he could strike directly at Lancelot. At the same time, two streaks of brown mist broke into life, faster than anyone could comprehend in the blur of light.

  In a single stroke, Lancelot slashed a Meursault against one of Swordnew’s neutralized vibro swords. Half of the vibro blade fell to the ground where it thudded and lost its charge, once again resembling normal metal. The other Meursault moved in a similar pattern. In the blink of an eye, two of Swordnew’s weapons were reduced to stubs of metal.

  Without pausing, Lancelot took a step forward and drove one vibro lance through Swordnew’s right front foot, then drove the other lance through his left front foot.

  With both of his lead feet impaled and stuck to the ground, the Carthagen gave a roar of pain that was low and prolonged like distant thunder. Secured in place with lances electrocuting both legs, the Carthagen remained exactly where he was. Every time he tried to back away or turn to the side, a muffled groan of agony escaped his helmet as crippling pain shot up to his knees and front hips.

  Swordnew did his best to keep both of his remaining vibro swords directed at the attacking Carthagen, but with two more streaks of brown mist, the invisible Meursaults also reduced those to metal stubs.

  Streaks of brown vapor circled the defeated Carthagen, dancing around his helpless neck and shoulders.

  One of the three Dauphin motioned and said. “Lancelot, enough.”

  The Carthagen with the pair of Meursaults backed away from his opponent. As he did, he withdrew the vibro lances from both of Swordnew’s front feet. The tips of the weapons crackled with the loser’s blood until Lancelot de-energized them. Then he bowed, first to his opponent and then to the three elders.

  The entire battle finished in as little time as it had taken both combatants to perform their prefight ritual. Lancelot turned to face the remaining Carthagen warriors, who were lined against the back wall.

  “Anyone else?”

  The Dauphin offered light hisses of disapproval but said nothing more. Lancelot wasn’t supposed to address them or anyone else. Only the elders were, unless they gave permission for someone else to speak. But the Dauphin weren’t going to chastise their prized warrior. And judging from how all of the other Carthagens refused to budge, they all knew who the best fighter in the room was.

  “That will be all, Lancelot,” the Dauphin said. “Prepare yourself for the approaching threat.” Lancelot gave a final bow and left the chamber. After he was gone, the Dauphin said, “Curveddeath and Bowcast, take Swordnew to the medical bots to have his feet repaired.”

  Two of the Carthagen warriors stepped away from the far wall and approached their injured associate from either side, each wrapping a pair of arms around his waist to help him leave the cave to be treated.

  10

  “It’s not a good idea,” Warwick said, his holographic image appearing in front of the main viewport of Julian’s private quarters.

  “At least let us have some fun too,” Exeter added, his own hologram shaking his head in disbelief.

  Once Julian got any idea into his head he was determined to carry it out. Personally deploying to each planet and colony to welcome them to the Round Table was no different. It was the same kind of stubborn resolve that had made him assign his son to a post aboard his ship even though Margaret, his wife, had urged him against such a decision. It had been that same kind of determined eagerness that had convinced Representatives Winchester and Octo that a campaign of galactic unification was a good idea.

  “Noted,” General Reiser said. “It’s a small colony, though. No need for a big landing party. And there will be less cause for them to be concerned if I go by myself.” He gave both brigadiers a smile. “I appreciate the concern, though, fellas.”

  Without saying anything, Warwick nodded, then pressed the button to end his transmission. His hologram disappeared a moment later.

  “They’re gonna start calling you the Scourge of the Cartha Sector,” Exeter said, grinning at the nickname. A moment later, his hologram disappeared as well.

  The idea of going down to the Cartha-Minor-d colony by himself had formed in Julian’s head before he had actually thought of its implications. And by implications he didn’t mean his own safety or any risk to the mission if something happened to him. Arriving at a moon colony with a fleet of Solar Carriers, Athens Destroyers, Flying Fortresses, and Hellships would ensure no one would dare kill him for fear of retaliation. What he had forgotten was his promise to Talbot that he could join the next landing party. Julian still gave this possibility consideration, trying to work out how it might be achieved. What better way for a father and son to bond than by landing, just the two of them, on a colony and freeing the people there?

  It was a shame the entire idea would never come to fruition. First, he knew he could get away with just about any order he issued, but by singling his son out to join him, it would confirm everything Talbot feared. The other officers, most especially the other ensigns, would know once and for all that Talbot was only there because his father had put in the request. He wouldn’t be taken seriously, and he would rightfully blame his father for that.

  Leaving his quarters, he took the long route through the series of corridors that led to the hangar and the transport that would take him down to Cartha-Minor-d. Going out of his way would take him back by the command deck, where Talbot was currently on duty. He entered the room and acknowledged everyone’s salute without speaking. As he passed by Talbot, his pace slowed.

  Without stopping, Julian whispered, “Next time,” then continued onward.

  Talbot didn’t reply or even look up.

  Julian wondered if he had said it loud enough. Or, had he said it too loud, ensuring the nearest officer could also overhear what had been said? He paused at the doorway of the command deck, looked back at his son, and experienced another twinge of regret.

  Talbot was looking back and forth between two holographic displays. When one flashed, he passed a finger through it. Looking briefly at a third display, he ran a finger down the length of the hologram so the information changed. The entire time, he didn’t look up to see if Julian was still there or to acknowledge he had heard anything his father, the leader of the entire Round Table fleet, had said.

  As Julian walked to the transport, he was more preoccupied with what was best for his son than what could possibly go wrong when he landed on the colony.

  11

  The
colony of Tantula-7 was situated far from where the Round Table campaign was spreading its message throughout the galaxy. Deep in the heart of Lord Plonnenst’s former kingdom in the Plusodien Sector, Tantula-7 was of concern to almost no one. The few people who called the sparsely populated colony home only did so because it was where they worked. Miners excavated rare minerals there. Botanists studied the unique soil conditions that made it the only place in the galaxy where dunka beans could be grown. Physicists studied the gravitational anomalies that occurred both inside the colony’s protective environment and outside in the harsh swirls of toxic clouds.

  Dr. Ythoul-Ythoul had just finished another round of experiments to investigate why certain gravitational phenomena seemed to be affected by the colony’s perimeter containment field and why others were not. It was thankless work. It was his passion and it was the only thing he could imagine doing with his life, but it would never win him any awards, earn him prestige amongst his colleagues, or make him rich. Most days, he not only didn’t make progress in finding answers, he instead only uncovered additional questions.

  “Really, gentlemen, I’ll be fine,” Dr. Ythoul-Ythoul said in his thick Ythanese accent to the pair of bodyguards who greeted him at the door of his lab.

  The pair of Gthothch guards, both wearing casual uniforms of vests overtop shirts and trousers, gave a polite gurgle that jarred the rocks in their throats. Sighing and shaking his head, Dr. Ythoul-Ythoul allowed the two stone aliens to escort him to his quarters. It was only a three minute walk, and after being in his laboratory for half the day he was happy to have some company—even if they couldn’t speak Basic and would likely have utter disdain for anything as delicate as his equipment or even his physical wellbeing if they weren’t being paid to tend to such things.

  The escorts had become popular in recent months due to the warlord Arc-Mi-Die’s penchant for kidnapping scientists around the galaxy. For as long as there had been space pirates, gangsters, and warlords, there had been abductions and ransoms. People who were supposed to arrive at a certain colony never did. Some were never seen or heard from again. Others were offered for a large sum of money. Entire vessels were hijacked and held until some form of compensation was paid. None of this was new. It only seemed more troubling now because in the years since the Round Table’s inception such crimes had drastically reduced in frequency. When it did happen, it reminded everyone that the galaxy wasn’t as safe as they liked to think.