Lancelot

by Chris Dietzel

  Only inexperienced pilots had trouble navigating in asteroid fields like Orleans. It was the exact opposite of the DorEca asteroid field where CasterLan forces had to use hundreds of probes to find safe passage. In Orleans, the Round Table flagships could easily make their way into the first part of the asteroid field without fear of errant rocks colliding with their vessels.

  Once inside the asteroid field, scores of probes were launched, but not to find safe passage. Instead, the they were dispersed to more easily identify where the Carthagens might be located. The expanse of asteroids provided millions of possible hiding spots. Even with over two hundred probes scouring each corner of Orleans, it could take weeks to pinpoint the elusive civilization’s current location.

  The lead ship in the formation was Julian’s HC Ballistic Cruiser. Diagonally behind him in an echelon formation was the Solar Carrier commanded by Warwick and the Athens Destroyer led by Exeter. Further back, the Flying Fortresses, Hellships, Havoc Gunships, and rest of the fleet followed.

  They passed the first massive series of rocks. Each vessel was eclipsed by a hulk of stone large enough to blot out the nearest sun. Julian’s vessel navigated around its edge and began to approach another large asteroid further into the system. His flagship was ten minutes away from the asteroid and yet the rock’s immense size ensured it took up much of the front viewport. The infinite void of space was erased and swapped out for gray stone. At slow speeds, it took fifteen minutes for his HC Ballistic Cruiser to edge around the next planet-sized asteroid.

  As it did, something else came into sight. Not another asteroid. Not one of the probes Julian’s forces had sent out into the asteroid field.

  It was a flagship as large as his own. Behind it, another. Behind that, a line of more warships of different types and origins.

  Each one was facing Julian’s vessel.

  19

  “All shields up,” Julian said. “And would someone like to tell me why we weren’t alerted to their presence sooner?”

  No one else on the command deck said anything. He looked over at his son. Talbot was frowning at the displays in front of him, but like the other junior officers, he too remained silent.

  “Shields are up, sir,” a young female officer confirmed from the corner of the command deck.

  “Ready weapons systems.”

  “Weapons systems are ready, sir,” Talbot said.

  Julian turned to his comms officer. “Tell the rest of the fleet to do the same. Shields and weapons.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Behind the enormous asteroid, the surprise fleet was cast in shadows. Julian squinted but couldn’t tell what kind of vessels they were or guess at their intentions. The one good thing about their situation was that the hidden ships weren’t firing.

  “Intelligence didn’t indicate the Carthagens had a navy,” Julian said. “Ensign Reiser, did you see anything about the Carthagens having a navy?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then why is the space in front of me filled with ships?”

  At the outset of the Round Table’s campaign, he had spent many nights talking with Exeter and Warwick about the possibility that one of the civilizations they visited might misinterpret their intentions. War could break out, or at least a skirmish. The possibility existed even though the Round Table had sent notice throughout the known galaxy that any visiting ships led by General Reiser would attack only if fired upon. In the months since, each stop along their mission had been easier and had required less convincing than the previous one. The days of preparing for a possible ambush had long since passed, and yet now his fleet had entered an asteroid field and a group of battleships was waiting for him in what he could only guess was an ambush.

  His signals officer said the ship’s sensors weren’t picking up any ships in front of them.

  The officer in charge of shields said, “They’re targeting us!”

  Talbot, still frowning at the weapon’s displays, said, “There’s nothing for us to lock onto.”

  “Ensign Teich, one hundred percent capacity to the forward shields,” Julian said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then, to his son: “If there’s nothing to target, just be ready to fire without targeting.” He motioned with both hands at the enemy vessels that were clearly in front of them.

  A hologram of Warwick appeared in front of Julian. “Orders?”

  The answer was immediate. “Hold fire.”

  A hologram of Exeter appeared beside the one of Warwick. “Sir, every one of those ships is targeting us. If we don’t fire first, we might not survive to offer a counter attack.”

  “We don’t fire unless fired upon,” Julian repeated.

  Both holograms dissipated, leaving Julian with the officers on his command deck.

  “What are they targeting us with, Ensign Teich?”

  The woman frowned and swirled her fingers through fields of information that hovered in front of her, scanning as fast as she could through the data being presented.

  “I’m not sure, sir. Possibly cannons and proton torpedoes. Sensor data is inconclusive.”

  “Target them with the same,” Julian told his son.

  “Targeting systems find nothing to lock onto,” Talbot said again.

  “Nothing?” Julian said. “Does it look like there’s nothing to target?” he asked, pointing at the ships.

  At that moment, the asteroid that had blocked the sun moved enough that sunlight was able to shine through, pouring down on the vessels that had been waiting in the shadows.

  “I don’t believe it,” Julian almost muttered, but like everyone else on the command deck he was too shocked to say anything.

  In front of him, targeting his ship, was an HC Ballistic Cruiser, a few Solar Carriers, Athens Destroyers, Flying Fortresses, Hellships, and even a pair of Havoc Gunships. The exact same ships that made up his fleet were supposedly in front of him while multiple ships’ systems were saying there were no ships to target.

  His suspicion was confirmed when the enemy fleet began to dissolve into pixels that disappeared as he watched. It took less than a minute for the entire fleet to vanish.

  “A hologram of some sort,” he told his crew. “Ensign Teich, just to be safe, keep shields up for now. Lieutenant Vurn, relay the command to the rest of the fleet to do the same. Ensign Reiser, power down cannons and proton torpedoes.”

  One after another, the ships of the Round Table fleet resumed course further into the Orleans asteroid field.

  20

  The next time Lancelot was summoned to the Dauphin’s chamber, none of the other Carthagen warriors were there. Lancelot stood in the corridor as the rock wall slid aside, trying to figure out what the elders wanted of him.

  “You may enter,” one of the three Dauphin said.

  Lancelot stepped forward. The stone door began to rumble back into a closed position even though none of the Dauphin pressed a button or moved a hand. Without any of the other warriors there, the size difference between Lancelot and elders was even more noticeable. With his armor on, he was nearly twice their size and weight. They were the authority figures and he was their protector, but he loomed over them as if capable of performing both roles.

  As was their custom, the warrior stood in silence while the three elders assessed him with their eyes.

  After a moment, the Dauphin on the right said, “The enemy is still approaching.”

  Lancelot nodded. “Yes.”

  All three Dauphin gave a low hum of disapproval at one of their warriors speaking without having been asked a specific question.

  “We have given them a warning and yet they still proceed further into Orleans. We will give them another warning, and then a third. If they ignore each and continue ahead, you will kill all who disembark their ships.”

  The Dauphin were silent then, daring Lancelot to break protocol again by saying something else. Under his reinforced helmet, Lancelot had to bite his tongue to keep from doing just that.


  Pleased with their lead warrior’s silence, the Dauphin in the middle said, “If they send a landing party, you will lead the Carthagen warriors to meet them.”

  It was the same outcome as anyone who defied the Carthagen’s wish for isolation. The Dauphin and Lancelot stared at each other in silence. Lancelot had no way of knowing what exactly the first warning had been or what the next two might be. What he did know, that the Dauphin probably didn’t realize, was that these warnings would never deter the approaching fleet.

  “When the time comes, I will defend the Carthagens from any invader.”

  “Very good, Lancelot,” the Dauphin to the left said.

  But instead of dismissing him, the three elders continued looking at their prized warrior.

  “Anything else?” Lancelot asked.

  Through the clear masks they wore around their mouths and noses, Lancelot saw the effect his words had on each of the Dauphin. All three flared their nostrils. Each gritted their teeth and released another low hum.

  What could they do, though, besides give little shows of disapproval? He was their best warrior. He was dispatching their second and third best fighters with ease. The worst they could do was tell him he was no longer allowed to defend the Carthagen society, but they would only be denying their own safety by excluding the warrior most able to protect them.

  Without waiting for an answer, without waiting to be told he could go, Lancelot turned and began walking back toward the stone door.

  “Lancelot,” the middle Dauphin called.

  He considered continuing through the doorway without pause. His curiosity made him stop and turn back to face the three elders. They might tell him that although he was a great warrior, even the greatest warriors had qualities they should continually strive to improve upon. They might take the opposite approach and, having gotten his attention, tell him he now had their permission to leave. It would be a childish thing to say but it would remind him that just by calling his name they had made him stop in place.

  Instead, the middle Dauphin said, “Thank you for your service, Lancelot. We know the life of a warrior is not an easy one. Your dedication is appreciated. But more than that, it is the only reason we still exist today.”

  All of the air went out of Lancelot’s chest. As much as he wanted to bow his head and say thank you, he only nodded, as was the custom, and then continued out the door.

  21

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being back here,” Margaret said as she looked around at the expanse of tan fields.

  Portia smiled as she took in all the various hills in front of them. “You weren’t gone that long. It is nice to have you back, though.”

  The two women had grown so fond of their walks across the fields of Aromath the Solemn that they no longer bothered walking through the streets of CamaLon or anywhere else in the capital of Edsall Dark. Portia guessed that Margaret enjoyed the sun-drenched terrain because it was a stark difference from the expanse of cold galaxy that her husband Julian and son Talbot were traveling across. In the distance, an old man guided a herd of sherpen toward a section of tan grass they would gladly eat. Closer to CamaLon’s main wall, a group of children chased each other and laughed.

  “You know what’s funny?” Margaret asked, her fingers running through her graying hair to keep it out of her eyes. “This was my home. I was born here. I grew up here. But after nearly twenty years on Anjou, this place seems foreign to me.”

  Although the two friends had each gone to school on Edsall Dark and had both gotten married there, they had rarely seen each other in the years since. Julian’s first post had been at the furthest outpost of the CasterLan Kingdom. It was a place he had remained and where he had worked his way up through the ranks. Even during the battle at Dela Turkomann, in which the newly freed Excalibur ships had been used to wreak havoc amongst Mowbray’s forces, Julian had remained at Anjou to defend against any possible surprise attack coming from the other side of the kingdom. Only after the Round Table was formed had he been called back to Edsall Dark and given new orders.

  In the time since, Margaret had set about trying to become familiar with the place she had once called home. The sights were mostly the same, although the fields now had scars across them from the damage caused by Mowbray’s forces. The other most noticeable change was that the main spaceport was now the site of the Round Table’s Great Hall. Like most things, though, the majority of the planet was the same as she remembered. The market was the same size and offered the usual sights and sounds. The capital wall never changed.

  There was something else, though. A feeling or atmosphere she couldn’t put her finger on. Perhaps it was the hustle and bustle of dignitaries and Round Table representatives and all of their assistants, all scurrying every which way, that made CamaLon feel more like a city she would have visited during a vacation than the warm home she had known as a child.

  “Imagine what it must be like for Julian,” Portia said, remembering what Hector had been like before leaving on a Solar Carrier. Even if everything went according to plan, his missions kept him away for over a year and if things didn’t go well he might never return at all.

  “I still have no idea when they’ll be back,” Margaret said, not forgetting about Talbot. “The few times communications come back from either of them they’re always heading further away, deeper into the Cartha sector.”

  “They’ll come back eventually.”

  But when Portia spoke, there was a tinge of sadness in her voice that she hadn’t intended to reveal. The image that came to mind was Hector on an energy platform instead of on two legs. The first memory she had was of him coming home and saying nothing.

  As if afraid that Margaret could read her thoughts or that by merely remembering what had happened to her own husband she might bring some sort of cosmic jinx upon Julian, she added, “He’ll come back and be the same person who left. They both will. When Julian comes back, it’ll be like old times. Me and Hector, you and Julian, the four of us talking long into the night.”

  “I’d like that,” Margaret said, pulling her wind-blown hair away from her eyes. “I can’t tell you how much I’d like that.”

  Portia almost asked how Talbot was getting along on the same vessel as his father. Although she and Hector had never had children of their own, she couldn’t imagine having both a son and a husband so far away. Of course, she also couldn’t imagine that Hector would entertain the idea of his only child going out there and facing unknown dangers alongside him, let alone actually requesting that it happen. Because of this, she remained silent as the two women continued making their way across the fields.

  22

  Julian sat at the head of the table in the command room. As usual, instead of actual senior officers filling the other chairs, holograms of Warwick and Exeter and the others were positioned along either side of the metal and glass table.

  Outside, moon-sized asteroids surrounded them, blocking out the millions of stars that were normally visible. Rocks drifted past them in every direction.

  It was the type of change that could make a crew restless and superstitious. They were used to being surrounded by the constant flicker of stars, which became a comfort to be relied upon. When it was no longer there, otherwise stable officers had a tendency to do and say things outside their normal character as if they were claustrophobic.

  It was for this reason that Julian focused on providing a calming presence to those around him and told his officers to do the same. As long as they offered the same semblance of confidence and poise, their crews would be more likely to maintain their composure. Nothing would keep them from completely ignoring what they saw in the viewports, but they had a better chance of performing their duties the way they normally would.

  However, Julian couldn’t help but occasionally glance at a viewport to see if another holographic image of attacking vessels was going to appear. He kept finding reasons to casually look over to one side or the other under the prete
nse of being fascinated with one of the asteroids outside the viewport.

  He wasn’t as sly as he gave himself credit for, however, because he noticed the holograms of the other officers around the table begin to do the same thing, each trying to be as nonchalant about it as possible. The effect was a room full of holographic officers who, because they were positioned down either side of the Julian’s command table, seemed to be taking occasional glances at each other when in fact they were actually back on their own ship, turning to glance out their own viewports. Only Warwick, his jaw firm, refused to give the enemy, either real or imagined, the very minor victory of distracting him.

  “Have we determined yet how they were able to disrupt our ships’ sensors?” Julian asked the group.

  “It’s an odd thing,” Brigadier Maceus said. A bot appeared beside her for a moment, handed her a data report, and then disappeared. Looking down at the report she had been given, she continued, “It only disrupted certain systems and not all in the same way. Defensive systems registered ships, which was inaccurate. Weapons systems did not register any targets, which was accurate.”

  Another officer, with leathery gray skin and four whiskers on either side of his face, nodded. “We’ve all heard of ways to disrupt a ship’s sensors, but the only way we know of would impact each system in the same way. Even if the ships weren’t actually there, if the sensors registered a threat, the weapons systems should have at least given a false target to lock onto.”

  A scowl washed across Exeter’s face. “These Carthagens are playing games with us.” Then, as if it needed to be said again, he repeated, “They’re playing games.”

  Julian took a deep, calming breath, more for his officers’ benefit than his own. “No one got hurt. Not a single torpedo was launched nor cannon fired. Our reputation and the reputation of the Round Table obviously precedes us.”