Art 1
Cartha-6, by Tim Barton, digital art
6
“I don’t know what to do, Portia.”
As they continued through the streets of CamaLon, Hector’s wife reached her arm out so it touched the small of his back. Over the years, she had gotten used to every part of her husband, including all the physical transformations he had undergone. Her familiarity extended beyond what could be seen, however. She also knew all of his internal quirks and struggles.
After the battle of Solar-Rift, in which he had lost much of his crew as well as both of his legs, it had taken all of her courage and love to be around someone with Hector’s mindset. For months he had refused to talk to anyone, even her. Getting used to the metal that was attached to his waist and that held his energy disk had been relatively easy compared to the mental trauma. Physically, all she had to do when she was beside him was make sure she leaned so no part of her touched the disk’s swirling power. It had taken far longer to become acclimated to his cries and balled fists as he slept, ready to strike an enemy that he only realized wasn’t there upon waking. For years, he had refused to find humor in anything.
It had taken a while, but he eventually moved on and was able to love and be loved again. The only person who could have stayed with him through it all would have been someone of enduring strength. Not of the muscular variety, for which Hector and his wide and powerful frame was renowned, but of spirit. To Hector, Portia was the strongest person who ever lived.
Then, five years ago, he had led a squad of soldiers into what would become known as the blood tunnels in order to defeat the Vonnegan Empire. Once again, he had come away with not only physical damage but also more mental scars.
He had lost an arm and now had a gravitronic prosthetic in its place, but the more severe damage had once again been to his psyche. For a second time he had witnessed the men and women who he was responsible for die in battle. The only thing that had sustained him through the anguish quicker than the first time was the belief that it was the last battle the galaxy would ever see. The Round Table had worked; it had brought the warring kingdoms together.
Now, though, Hector didn’t seem so certain.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said again. “It’s like they’ve all forgotten the Round Table’s purpose. They’ve all forgotten why they were selected to represent their people.”
The first time he had said this, Portia had shaken her head, dismissed his pessimism and told him that everyone in that room respected him too much to ignore what he was saying.
“They look up to you in a way they never did to their former rulers. They respect you more than anyone else sitting at that table, I can tell you that much.”
However, during the next Round Table session, nothing changed. Various representatives began to ask what could be done to help the citizens of their respective neighboring sectors who were still under the rule of a king, dictator, or warlord. Each time, Hector told them to be patient, that when Vere had set about creating the Round Table, she hadn’t forced anyone to join. Instead, she had accepted anyone who wanted to be a part of it while respecting the wishes of anyone who didn’t.
A man with sunken cheeks and small, green eyes had turned and looked at Hector from across the table. Winchester was one of the many people who sat at the Round Table as a representative of a planet that had once been under the CasterLan banner.
“If you remember,” Winchester said in his low and scratchy voice, “Vere was in no position to make demands at the time she formed the Round Table. If the circumstances were different, there’s no telling how the goal of the Round Table might have differed.”
“I know Vere,” Hector had said.
“Knew,” Winchester returned, his voice sounding like sandpaper rubbing along a rock.
“Yes, I knew her. She would never have presumed to—”
Winchester was one of the few people in attendance who had never been enraptured with the legend that was Hector. He interrupted, “Surely, you do not presume to speak on her behalf.”
“Of course not.”
“Good,” Winchester had said. “Then we are in agreement here today that we can decide as a group what the best purpose of the Round Table might be going forward.”
“They don’t understand, Portia,” Hector said as soon as he had come home that day. He refused to look at her, as if his failure at the Round Table was a failure not only to himself but to everyone on the planet. “They’re losing the idea that brought us all together. They’re going to send ships to every corner of the galaxy and force the remaining kingdoms to join or else be destroyed. What kind of plan is that? This isn’t what Vere wanted. It’s not what I fought for.” The five cylinders that made up his gravitronic hand curled into a fist. “This isn’t why I lost more of myself.”
“Help them understand,” she soothed.
“What can I do?” He sounded more defeated than angry. “I could raise my voice, tell everyone in that room that it’s in their best interest to listen to me if they wanted to leave the Great Hall in one piece, but that’s not what Vere would have wanted either.”
“Keep reminding them,” she said. “Keep showing them why you fought.” She glanced down at the energy that made up the bulk of his prosthetic arm and at the disk that his torso rested upon. “That’s what Vere would have wanted.”
“I guess.”
But even as he said it he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. There had been a time, early in the Round Table, when no one would have dared question him. If he said the Round Table fleet should remain where it was and that any kingdoms that hadn’t joined should be allowed to do as they pleased, everyone else would have nodded. But as more voices echoed across the Great Hall, growing from dozens to hundreds, it became harder to have his voice heard amid all the others wanting to say something. Winchester was joined by a man named Octo, who supported the idea of sending flagships across the galaxy. And why not, they argued, since it only ever resulted in more kingdoms becoming part of the Round Table. Hector knew that with each passing day his opinion carried less weight. His friends on the Round Table, Cimber and Cash, begged him to use what remaining influence he had to demand the flagships stay at home.
One representative, a Gthothch from a planet that had been part of the Vonnegan Empire, actually turned off his earpiece the next time Hector spoke. Another, a worm-like alien, was fond of rolling his eyes—all ninety-six of them—when Hector preached about the dangers of sending ships to far-off sectors.
Very few people at that table cared what he had to say and he knew it. None of them cared because they didn’t remember what it had been like down in those tunnels, soldiers shouting and dying everywhere. The one thing he wished he could forget was the very thing he hoped they would always remember.
7
The Round Table fleet remained in orbit above Cartha-6. The only ships to descend to the planet’s surface were a pair of Llyushin transports. Both were accompanied by a collection of Thunderbolts, Llyushin fighters, and Havoc spacejets that entered the planet’s atmosphere and remained in a holding pattern a mile above where the transports landed. Anyone unfamiliar with the creation of the Round Table would have expected the Llyushin fighters and Thunderbolts to target each other as they had done in countless battles throughout the years. Instead, the fighters joined in formation as they provided protection for the officers on the surface.
The transports landed on the southern ring of green because this was where the capital was located. Inside one of the transports, Julian gave final orders to Exeter and the other four officers beside him. In the other ship, Warwick relayed the same orders to the five officers who were ready to disembark alongside him.
“Do not fire unless fired upon,” Julian said. “Do not engage in arguments or debates. We are emissaries of the Round Table. We’re here to free the people of Cartha-6, not to invade them. Let me do the talking and we should be fine.”
Inside his CAB suit,
he could see only a small part of each officer’s face, their eyes and eyebrows. Everything else was armor surrounding the narrow visor. The suit provided four screens inside his helmet, each of which offered a steady flow of information. On the main screen, he had access to a live feed of everything happening outside his suit, but with the added benefit of seeing labels above the other CAB units to see who was inside each one, the type and amount of ammunition they possessed, and so on. Another screen detailed his own suit’s status, including its structural integrity, power levels, and the status of all life support systems. The next provided the same external view as the first screen, only in different spectrums to ensure he could see potential threats at all times, even in total darkness or if he were engulfed in smoke.
“Any questions?”
When no one spoke, Julian nodded and signaled for the transport’s ramp to lower. Daylight flooded the cargo bay they were standing in. Instead of gentle footsteps as he walked down the ramp, the CAB unit hummed, clicked, and clanged. Each time Julian’s boots clanked further down the diagonal steel platform, a thundering boom echoed like a giant’s footfalls.
At his side, he saw Warwick and the others also descending from the second transport. At the bottom of the ramps, the officers aligned in formation behind General Reiser, with Brigadiers Exeter and Warwick directly behind and to the side of Julian and the remaining nine officers in a row behind them.
In front of them were just as many aliens. Compared to the ten-foot tall, one-ton, armored Round Table emissaries, though, the twelve aliens looked small and frail. Each walked on hands and feet, only standing upright once they were where they needed to be. The aliens’ torsos and legs were covered in sparse, cream-colored fur. Their arms and heads were light brown and without fur. They didn’t compare in size to an ordinary adult human, let alone one wearing a CAB suit. Instead, they were roughly the same height as a human child. Because of this, and because of the great pounding each time the CABs moved, the aliens of Cartha-6 couldn’t help but shake as the armored beings in front of them approached.
It was clear that the Plancons were not physically suited for war. They understood this. It was why they relied on advanced androids to do their fighting for them. It was said that androids outnumbered Plancons on Cartha-6 in a ratio of eight to one. It was also said that most advancements in android technology originated from Cartha-6. If the androids ever decided to rise up against their masters, the Plancons would become slaves in a matter of minutes.
“We are here on a peaceful mission,” Julian said, his voice sounding much louder, deeper, and threatening through the loudspeaker of his CAB suit than he intended.
The aliens did not speak Basic and needed a moment for the earpieces they were wearing to translate his words.
One of the aliens held a small device to his mouth, then stepped slightly forward from the other Plancons and held his hand out.
The device, translating on behalf of the alien, said in a soothing voice, “If this is a peaceful mission, I am sure you will respect our rule of law. You are here as guests to our home world then?”
Julian gave a slight bow to demonstrate politeness. He knew, though, that the noise and energy generated by his CAB for such a simple act would also remind the aliens that while he was being perfectly diplomatic, he had other options as well.
“I wish that were the case,” he said. “I would love to be your guest some other time. My presence here is to deliver a message from the representatives of the Round Table.”
The alien held the device to his head, then extended his hand again. “And that message is?” the alien’s handheld gadget said.
Surely they had heard of the other kingdoms that had been assimilated as part of Julian’s mission. Even so, he gave a polite bow again and said, “The Round Table would like the citizens of each sector to share in the freedom that our own people enjoy. All planets, territories, and kingdoms are requested to join us. All we ask is that the Plancons swear an oath to serve no ruler and that they elect one of their own to join us at the Round Table.”
The alien swiveled on his hind legs and looked back at the others near it. All of them were staring ahead with narrow eyes. One of them tapped a single hand against the ground. Another tapped both hands. Julian wasn’t sure if that was a way of communicating in code or if they were simply nervous.
Finally, the lead alien turned back to face the giant armored messenger in front of him. The device in his hand said, “And if we choose not to join you?”
Julian smiled. This was his favorite part of the proceedings. He took a step forward. Behind him, each of the other officers did the same. It was only one step, but the combined noise of a dozen CABs performing any action brought with it a thunder and slight tremor that shook the ground. It was a simple gesture but it was effective in the intimidation it offered.
“My friends,” Julian said, “we offer peace, protection, and a seat at the Round Table. There will be no more conflicts against Cartha-6. No pirates or warlords will dare challenge a member of the Round Table. You and your people will have all of the same benefits as everyone else. And peace will spread further throughout the galaxy.”
The alien stared at Julian for a long time, then held the device to his head before extending it again. The soothing voice projected from the device said, “For one who is offering peace, you bring many machines of war.”
“Listen here—”
“Exeter, quiet.” Julian snapped. He stepped forward again, holding the armored hands of his CAB out in the most congenial way possible for a suit of reinforced steel with mounted shoulder cannons. “I apologize for my friend. I understand your misgivings. Other kingdoms have had the same worries, but they have each subsequently joined the Round Table and were happy they did.”
One of the other aliens stepped forward and held out his hand to reveal a similar communication device. From it came the words, “Those other kingdoms had no choice, correct? Join or die?”
Unlike Julian, the lead alien seemed unconcerned that one of the others in his group had spoken out of turn.
Another alien stepped forward and held out his hand. “If those are our options, we think you underestimate us.”
The alien tapped his legs against the ground in quick succession. As Julian watched, hundreds, maybe a thousand, battle androids came into form behind the Plancons. Each had been hidden behind a reflective field of light that had kept them invisible to the naked eye.
“That’s an unfortunate turn of events,” Exeter said.
Julian switched his comms to a private channel so the Plancons wouldn’t be able to hear. “The Plancons have already conceded,” he said to the other officers. “They just don’t realize it yet.”
What the aliens didn’t know was that Julian and the others beside him had been able to see the battle androids the entire time. The optics in their helmets, allowing them to see across multiple spectrums, ensured that a simple trick of light didn’t hide the alien threat.
Each battle android was wearing a flexible armor that provided their already toughened synthetic skin with an additional layer of protection. Unlike humanoid androids, the Plancon’s version was skinny and headless, their processors hidden deep in their chest cavities behind inches of reinforced metal. They had dull, metallic skin, with oversized feet and hands. In each of their arms they carried a mega-burst assault blaster, capable of dispersing one hundred and twenty streaks of laser fire in less than thirty seconds. Each weapon was fully charged and pointed at the Round Table officers.
“Ah, my friend,” Julian said, switching back to an open comms channel and reaching up to unlatch his helmet. When it was off and cradled in one of his thick, armored hands, he smiled, allowing the aliens to see the man behind the CAB suit. “We didn’t underestimate you at all.”
Immediately, a rumbling began to sound from over their heads. The entire sky was filled with a steady boom as if the planet would be blotted out with storm clouds the likes of which the world had n
ever seen before. Instead of winds, rain, or thunder, however, a blanket of flagships descended toward the planet. First, the sun was eclipsed by the collection of Solar Carriers, Athens Destroyers, HC Ballistic Cruisers, and other giant vessels. As they got nearer, the force of their engines began to push the aliens backward. The CABs remained perfectly still. The ground began to shake from the force of the ships. Julian and his officers were unaffected, but the already trembling Plancons looked like they were going to cry.
The thousand battle androids didn’t attack, nor did they retreat. They merely waited for their orders. The Plancons didn’t know what to do. Each of them cowered and shook as the mighty ships descended upon them.
“So, you will join us?” Julian said with a smile, his helmet still off.
Instead of answering, the twelve Plancons turned and raced back toward the capital. Julian was sure that a few minutes later, they would take a shuttle, flee the planet, and go into hiding for fear of what their newly free citizens might do to them.
Without orders, the battalion of battle androids remained perfectly motionless, weapons aimed but with no intention of firing.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Julian said, putting his helmet back on. Then, turning to the officers behind him, added, “Another planet has joined the Round Table.”
Warwick grunted. Another officer gave a clap of his two mighty CAB gloves.
Exeter shook his head. “Just once, it would be fun if we got to use these things.” Then, to the battle androids, he said, “I think you all can lower your weapons now.”
A thousand android arms complied with the suggestion.
Exeter laughed. “You all are part of the Round Table now. How’s that feel?”
None of the androids replied.
8
The HC Ballistic Cruisers, Solar Carriers, Athens Destroyers, Flying Fortresses, Hellships, and Havoc Gunships departed Cartha-6. As they did, the Havoc Gunship at the tail end of the fleet deployed the single proton flag as ordered.
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