Each vessel had lumbered away from EndoKroy but picked up speed across the Mardigan sector until they were traveling at 90,000 miles per second, or nearly half the speed of light.
The pair of Athens Destroyers and the Solar Carrier came out of their high-speed trajectory at slightly staggered intervals. The first Athens Destroyer, commanded by Captain Munrun, stopped ten miles away from the Juggernaut, still close enough that the enormous Hannibal vessel would fill its command viewport. The Solar Carrier stopped only five miles away from the Juggernaut. The second Athens Destroyer stopped five miles beyond the enemy ship. All of this was automated—there was no way a living being could be precise in where a ship traveling at such speeds would stop.
The only ship not to stop was the freighter. It had never intended to, which was why the retired colonel aboard it didn’t care about any kind of official title. The ship she was aboard was nothing more than a glorified missile traveling many hundreds of times faster than a proton missile and packed with explosives. That was also why she was the only person on the mission who didn’t bother to wear a suit of space armor.
The speed with which the freighter crossed the Mardigan sector made it impossible for the Hannibal ship to launch defensive projectiles in time. The Juggernaut had no way of being able to avoid the blast. In the same instant that Captain Munrun and the three ships under his command came out of their dash toward the Juggernaut, the freighter became a ball of light. It looked like a miniature sun expanding and then imploding upon itself in a matter of seconds. As the light faded, the stars to either side of the Juggernaut came back into view. Then, the smoke dissipated and the colossal Juggernaut was there as well.
“Status?” he said, looking over at an ensign to his side.
The front of the Juggernaut was magnified on the viewport in front of Munrun.
The ensign reported, “Minimal structural damage at the point of attack. All enemy weapons systems are powering up.”
Munrun nodded. A freighter as large as a flagship had been loaded with explosives and the resulting blast had barely damaged the invading vessel. Knowing his crew would have little time to carry out the rest of their orders, he asked no further questions.
In front of him, the Solar Carrier had a matter of seconds to perform the next part of the mission. One set of its aft thrusters powered up, causing the flagship to swerve to the side as sharply as possible for a vessel of its size. With the Juggernaut facing its broad side, the Solar Carrier opened all of its hangars, from which a series of gravity mines and ion depth charges poured.
“Hurry,” Munrum mumbled.
The Solar Carrier didn’t have time to complete the maneuver. The Juggernaut, without enough space between it and the flagship to activate its portals or to come to a stop, rammed the flagship. Like a tiny one-man fighter rammed by a flagship, the Solar Carrier was ripped to pieces. Only the front third of the Solar Carrier, having escaped the main force of the Juggernaut, escaped in one piece. But this part of the ship immediately became engulfed in explosions that spread throughout each deck and corridor until it was also shattering under successive blasts.
The assortment of gravity mines and ion depth charges between the Solar Carrier and Juggernaut brought about dozens of blasts every second. The gravity mines exploded in waves of black energy that contrasted with the bright blue of the ion depth charges. A hundred explosions flashed in less than five seconds. When they cleared, Munrun groaned. The Juggernaut was damaged but not to any meaningful extent.
Without delay, hundreds of projectiles rocketed from the Hannibal ship, dispersing in all directions. Before Munrun could offer a command, the nearest set of projectiles burst into fully formed portals, each large enough for the Juggernaut to pass through. From out of the portal directly in front of Munrun, dozens more projectiles spewed.
“Get us out of here, full speed,” he said.
Before the command could be executed, a siren rang out and red lights began to flash inside the command deck.
“We’ve been split in half,” an officer said, looking at a set of holographic sensors in front of her.
Munrun knew what had happened. A Hannibal portal had exploded into life directly beside his Athens Destroyer, causing half of his vessel to be transported to another portion of space.
He could have given commands to isolate the damage so as to contain the vacuum of space. He knew, though, that the battle was already over.
“Everyone to the emergency hatches.”
His first instinct was to run as soon as he had given the command. As the officer in charge, he forced himself to wait while the others dashed from their stations and sprinted down the corridor in their space armor.
Somewhere on the other side of the Juggernaut, out of view, was the other Athens Destroyer. Maybe it was already a casualty. Maybe it had been able to create distance between itself and the Juggernaut and cause even more delays for the invaders. Munrun had no time to communicate with it to find out.
The corridors on either side of him flashed red. Alarms blared, telling him and his crew to evacuate the ship. He turned down one hallway, then another. The first officer to reach the emergency hatch already had it open. As soon as she leaned out through the clear containment field, the vacuum of space sucked her away from the Athens Destroyer and out into space. In her space armor, she would have a better shot of living, as they all would, than if they remained on the flagship for another minute.
Behind him, Munrun could hear a series of explosions getting closer and closer. In front of him, one crew member after another was jumping through the opening of the exit hatch and drifting off into space. A sensor in Munrun’s suit told him that a wave of heat was getting closer to him. Without turning around to see the explosions engulf his ship, he too jumped through the transparent containment field and out into space.
The visor display in his helmet illuminated the other crewmembers so he could easily spot them among the stars and portals. As far as he could tell from the readings transmitted by their suits, all of them were alive and well.
It hadn’t been much of a mission, he thought, but he had done it. He had taken a group of flagships to meet the enemy and he had gotten his crew safely off the ship before it exploded. After the Juggernaut left and the transport came to pick him up, he would be one of the next officers in line for promotion. Perhaps full-time command of a flagship.
A flash of light appeared to his side. He turned in time to see a streak of light sail through space and pierce one of the other crewmembers. Her space armor burst in a small explosion of white and yellow. Munrun turned and saw the white mech, only fifty feet away.
He thought about igniting an oxygen burst and fleeing but there was no escape. He thought about using the oxygen burst to advance on the mech, but with no weapons, it would be futile. The last idea he had was to remain motionless and hope he could fool the mech into thinking he was dead, but something caught the corner of his eye and he spun. The gray mech was also there, its scythe glowing, racing down at him.
97
Vere often imagined what the universe must be like for the Word. How could living beings exist in a realm outside of time and space? What was their consciousness like?
She and Mortimous and the others like them had abandoned their physical bodies long ago. It was how she could talk to Lancelot in one section of space and then see what was happening with the Juggernaut in another sector. But while she and others had managed to live beyond some of the traditional notions of space, not even Mortimous had learned to live beyond time. She observed the presence of the Word but she knew, even when they were near her, that they were also somehow present in every previous moment and future moment as well. Mortimous had told her one time that the Word weren’t living then, now, or in the future. They simply were. Even though Vere had progressed in her understanding of how the galaxy worked, that concept in particular still seemed foreign to her.
Aboard the cruiser hovering above EndoKroy, officers walked p
ast the viewport that she and Mortimous stared out of without seeing either cloaked figure. For Vere, the sight of EndoKroy brought back a special nostalgia. Years earlier, aboard the Griffin Fire, she and her friends had soared at top speeds through one portal and into another as they tried to evade Athens Destroyers and Thunderbolts. Now, she was holding out hope that her allies could win a battle to keep the planet safe. That very notion, that a former enemy was now a friend, had been the focus of her latest thoughts as she allowed herself to become aware of the Word.
If that’s not progress, she had thought, then what is? We were sworn enemies. We battled and killed one another. Now we are united.
The next thought to enter her mind wasn’t her own.
One enemy has merely been exchanged for another.
She wanted to say that wasn’t true but the Word was already gone.
“We can win,” she said to Mortimous. “Not just this battle. We can achieve peace in the galaxy.”
He took a deep breath as he continued to watch the teams of workers. Each set was in space armor at various locations around EndoKroy’s orbit. Mortimous had not given up hope completely, she knew, but he had become less convinced as time went by. Years after persuading the Word to summon the Green Knight, one of the bloodiest battles in galactic history had been waged at Edsall Dark. He had then tried to convince Julian Reiser that his actions could bring about a more peaceful Round Table but instead the general had given into personal ambition and been assassinated. Twice, Mortimous had tried and failed.
“I can convince the Word,” she said. When he still didn’t answer, she smiled and said, “If you could do it, I can as well.”
He didn’t respond, but she could sense he was smiling under his hood.
98
Philo sat on the floor of the cruiser’s hangar, waiting for notification of the Hannibal’s arrival. He positioned himself in a corner so he could make sure the giant reptile didn’t sneak up on him and attempt to kill him again. He didn’t fear death—he was sure he was going to die in a matter of hours. He kept an eye out for the Basilisk not because he was afraid of pain but so he could defeat the invading mechs before his own end came about.
With his back to the wall and every piece of armor on, he used a small piece of cloth to clean each part of his vibro halberd. Each Fianna had come up with a different way of preparing themselves for the things the former Vonnegan ruler had called upon them to do. One of the members of his unit had compulsively worked out. Another had performed breathing exercises. Philo had been content to sit and polish his weapon.
Each part of the deactivated vibro blade, dull like normal metal, was clean. He moved the cloth to where the blaster cartridge was attached to the top of the staff and began cleaning that next.
A door opened on the far side of the hangar. His eyes rose to see if he needed to stand and defend himself against the Basilisk. It was only the pilot, though, the human they called Quickly. They exchanged nods and then Philo returned to cleaning his weapon in silence.
99
While everyone else went about their business on the cruiser, Swordnew remained aboard the Carthagen transport. He didn’t trust anyone he had met since leaving the Cartha sector, and he only still trusted Lancelot because he had spent years fighting alongside the other Carthagen. It was for this reason that Swordnew remained in the shuttle’s cockpit, buckled into the pilot’s seat and ready to activate the controls if he needed to leave.
Every once in a while, shouting broke out somewhere else in the hangar and he would grip the steering mechanism before realizing there was no imminent attack against him. Usually it was a worker yelling to be heard over the machines on the platform.
Lancelot had told him that it was easy to mistrust everyone outside the Cartha sector. The warrior noted that while many of the people outside Orleans weren’t worthy of trust, there was also many who were. The galaxy, Lancelot had said, could be a good and decent place.
Swordnew didn’t know about any of that. What he first experienced was a purple-clad Vonnegan and a reptile trying to kill each other and a human drawing his Meursault against him. It hadn’t been a good first impression.
He did have to admit, though, that he also saw glimpses of what Lancelot had mentioned. Teams of workers had come together so they could try and defend a planet that wasn’t even their home. The human pilot had left his wife to come here even though the Vonnegans had killed his friends years earlier. It was easy to focus on the violence and old grudges, but if he was honest, Swordnew had to admit that what Lancelot said about people did seem to be true.
Of course, that wasn’t enough to make him leave the cockpit where he could escape at the first sign of trouble.
A beep sounded and he saw Lancelot standing underneath the ship. He pressed a button and waited for the ramp to lower so the warrior could board his vessel.
When Lancelot got to the cockpit, Swordnew was motioned to remain seated.
“I need to tell you something,” Lancelot said. “It won’t be easy for you to accept, but I owe it to you to tell you.”
Rather than ask what the warrior meant, Swordnew waited. Lancelot reached up to unfasten the helmet clips, then removed the Carthagen helmet.
Swordnew gasped.
Lancelot’s voice was completely different than it had been a moment earlier, different than it had been all the years he had known the Dauphin’s favorite fighter. It was soft. Human.
“This is who I am, Swordnew,” she said. “It was only fair that you know the truth.”
Art 6
Lancelot Revealed, by Molly Evans, watercolor and ink
100
Captain Thoft was half Vonnegan and half human. He was also the Round Table officer in charge of overseeing the installation of the Carthagen technology that Swordnew provided so it could be used in the defense of EndoKroy. As such, he provided Talbot with periodic updates on the effort.
As someone who had been torn between two opposing factions himself, Talbot couldn’t help but be curious which side Captain Thoft had been loyal to years earlier when Mowbray Vonnegan and Vere CasterLan had faced each other. It was the type of question that wouldn’t have mattered to Talbot’s father, a man who only cared about the here and now. But to Talbot, who had always questioned his own place in the galaxy, Captain Thoft’s prior allegiances were quite interesting in how they must have shaped the man.
Everywhere Talbot went, people viewed him as the son of a general and a hero. The things that actually defined him—his desire to sit in a quiet room and think rather than be around other people, the self-doubt that followed him everywhere he went—were the things no one else knew about him.
Lancelot was the exception. She was the one person other than his own mother that he had confided in and shared all of his fears with. Now, instead of having a chance to be with her again, they were barely speaking, and when they did talk it was about the Hannibal. The latest time she had entered his quarters, he had thought they would finally have time alone together. Instead, she had only been there for two minutes before declaring she needed to tell Swordnew who she really was. Frustration welled up inside him.
Captain Thoft was staring at him with open confusion, and Talbot realized he had once again been stuck in his thoughts rather than on what someone had been saying to him.
“I’m sorry,” Talbot said. “I have a lot of my mind.”
“Understood, sir. I was saying that each team has finished installing the Carthagen system.”
“It’s been tested?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All the teams are back to their ships?”
“They are, sir.”
Talbot looked down at a tiny display attached to his wrist. A notification came through that the Juggernaut was approaching.
It was time.
101
Lancelot patted each piece of her Carthagen armor. It was a ritual she had gotten into the habit of performing in the Orleans sector prior to leaving her priva
te chamber. At first, it had been to reassure herself that she hadn’t forgotten some piece of her costume which would give away her true identity. Once she had earned the right to stand in the middle of the Dauphin’s room as their best fighter, the habit became the last bit of mental preparation she needed to vanquish those who dared face her in combat.
With every piece of protection on except for her helmet, she looked at her reflection in the ship’s viewport. The teams of workers that had been outside were gone. For the most part, the space above EndoKroy was empty. A few final ships were departing from the planet, heading away from the impending invasion. Instead of focusing on them, Lancelot’s eyes adjusted to her reflection in her armor, her long blond hair falling down past her shoulders.
It was the same thing she had revealed to Swordnew an hour earlier, and his reaction hadn’t gone as well as she hoped it would. At first, he had stared at her in shock. He had been still and silent, waiting for her to say she was playing a trick on him. Then he had grown angry and begun to stand from his pilot’s seat. Lancelot didn’t have any choice but to draw her Meursaults and keep them at her friend’s neck so he would stay seated until he had a chance to process her explanation and calm down. After hearing her talk about how Bookknow had found her and protected her, Swordnew had been in denial. It had taken a couple minutes just to get him to accept that Lancelot was a human female and not someone wearing Lancelot’s armor in order to trick him. Eventually, though, he had understood why she had to do everything she did. He still wasn’t happy about having been deceived but she got him to understand she was still the person he had always known—she was still the person who had won every duel and who had taken the leader of the Round Table hostage. Eventually, she had sheathed her Meursaults and Swordnew had remained in his seat as he contemplated everything she had said.
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