Hector’s voice grew loud, “The purpose of the Round Table was never to—”
But Octo only raised his voice until he was drowning out Hector’s words. “Not even an actual resistance, but a fancy hologram? Well, I will not just sit here and be complacent when another alien race needs our help.”
He offered the same platitudes for another minute. By the time he was done there were only a few people who weren’t clapping and cheering at the prospect of saving the poor Carthagens.
Hector wanted to finish what he had been trying to say, but the moment was gone. Besides, everyone in the Great Hall had already heard him say a hundred times that the intention of the Round Table was never to make demands but to offer a place where other kingdoms were welcome. They all knew his belief that coercing others to join was never what Vere had in mind when she created the Round Table. And anyway, who was to say what the Carthagens wanted? Without knowing anything about them, how could the representatives of the Round Table possibly think that what they were offering was better or worse than what the Carthagens already had?
He also wanted to remind everyone in the room that the universe went on forever. There would always be another civilization further into space that had not yet joined the Round Table. Beyond the Carthagens, there were millions of other planets and civilizations to visit. Would they all be forced to join or else earn a visit from General Reiser or someone just like him? The idea of bringing peaceful representatives together from across the galaxy had been transformed into something else, something monstrous.
Of course, by the time Octo was done speaking, no one would want to hear more from a former soldier who spent all of his time questioning what they were doing. Once again, Hector had the feeling that a dream was turning into a nightmare as he watched. Seeing the room full of representatives applaud the idea of forcing the Carthagens to join them, he knew he had to stop what was happening before something truly terrible unfolded.
25
The lead HC Ballistic Cruiser approached the center of the Orleans asteroid field. The rest of the Round Table fleet followed close behind. On the command deck, to the right of where General Reiser stood, Talbot swiveled in his chair and ran a diagnostics test on the weapons systems to ensure they would function properly if and when they were needed.
No one seemed to be asking the question that bothered Talbot the most. If the Carthagens were able to trick the ship’s sensors into detecting a threat when there were no enemy ships present, why did the officers around him believe anything else the sensors were telling them while they were inside the asteroid field? The sensors said they were near the middle of Orleans but Talbot wouldn’t wager that they actually were. The same sensors had given conflicting information before. Some had said there were no enemy ships. Some had said they were being targeted by enemy ships. Was it so difficult to believe that the same systems were still being deceived? Without knowing what the Carthagens were capable of, it didn’t seem too outlandish.
He had mentioned this to his commanding lieutenant and his concern had been dismissed. Talbot knew he was the only person on the ship who could get away with going directly to the general in charge of the entire campaign, but there was no way he could do so in the middle of the mission. If they were back home on Edsall Dark it would have been possible. He wouldn’t shame his father, though, demand special treatment, or break chain of command.
Instead, Talbot went about his assignment: cycling through each weapon’s programming and making sure everything was functioning properly. He was certain that an officer on the command deck of every other ship in the fleet was performing the same duty. And so he continued cycling through one system after another.
Without warning, three alarms began to blare. Talbot’s head snapped forward and his eyes darted ahead of him. No one, himself included, could possibly miss the reason for the alarms.
Around the edge of the next asteroid was a ship of such immense size that Talbot automatically discounted it as another hologram. The other Carthagen holograms had been realistic in their depictions. The vessel in front of them was so immense that it couldn’t be real.
Each of the flagships in the Round Table fleet was roughly the same size as the next. Each was hundreds of times larger than a Thunderbolt, Llyushin fighter, or Havoc spacejet. The vessel in front of them made their flagships look just as small in comparison. It was many times larger than a portal. It resembled a metal moon more than it did a flagship. Even Mowbray’s Supreme Athens Destroyer would have been dwarfed by the behemoth in front of them.
Its body was lighter than the black metal of the HC Ballistic Cruiser, but darker than the standard atomized steel of the Solar Carriers and Athens Destroyers. From every side of the ship protruded barrels that were most likely ion or laser cannons but which had an unconventional design unlike anything Talbot had ever seen.
Talbot turned and saw his father glance over at him, a slight tinge of panic in his eyes. Just as fast, his father blinked and a neutral expression covered any sense of dread his father might have had. Talbot wanted to ask what the ship in front of them was, but even that question was against protocol on the command deck, and he reminded himself to remain silent unless spoken to.
The alarms were still blaring. It took a second for his father to compose himself enough to shout, “Someone shut off those damn alarms,” A moment later, the command deck was quiet again. General Reiser added, “Someone tell me what that thing is.” Then, almost as an almost afterthought, he added, “And I want confirmation that it’s a hologram and not a real object.”
“Yes, sir,” said three different officers, who went about gathering the information as fast as they could.
Since Talbot hadn’t received new orders from his father, he went back to running the weapons diagnostics on their cruiser. Or, at least, trying to, when he wasn’t stealing glances at the colossal vessel in front of them.
26
When the next Round Table session finished, Hector waited for Octo and Winchester in the corridor outside the Great Hall. Beside him, Cash paced back and forth, muttering to himself. Cimber had wanted to join them but, knowing his passion, Hector had told him it would be better if only he and Cash were there.
Down the hallway, both sides of the hall were decorated with pictures of former rulers who had handed over their kingdoms to become part of the Round Table. Digital portraits depicted a few humans, but most were aliens of varying shapes and colors. Some had seen the benefit of what Vere was proposing and knew the time for change had arrived. Others simply knew their people would demand they step aside and had done so graciously.
Octo and Winchester were some of the last to leave the Great Hall. When they appeared, they were surrounded by a contingent of alien representatives who clamored for their attention. Both men saw Hector and nodded. Hector knew they could have stopped walking and found a reason to go in a different direction. Neither did, however. Instead, Octo told the representatives on either side of them that he needed a minute. Winchester remained talking with them.
Hector, who had initially thought he might have to chase the men down, or at least use his energy disc to block them from passing, was relieved to see Octo approach with a smile.
“Hector, Cash, what’s going on?”
“This has to stop,” Hector said, not wasting time with pleasantries, his muscular arms folded across his chest.
Octo and Cash were each the same height as Hector, but they appeared frail and scrawny compared to the physically imposing war hero.
“What has to stop?” Octo asked, his sunken cheeks enlarging when he seemed confused.
“Call off the Round Table fleet. Bring Julian and the others home.”
Cash looked from one face to another. To his side, Winchester was smiling and laughing with a group of representatives as if nothing concerning was happening.
“Bring them home?” Octo said with a squint. “But they’re serving the Round Table’s mission. They’re uniting the galaxy and
freeing societies.”
“I understand you think it’s a good and moral thing that they’re doing,” Hector said, his words coming out faster than the normal, measured speech he usually offered. “But we can’t keep doing this. What lies beyond the Cartha sector?” Octo shrugged. “We’ll send the Round Table forces there as well, right? And then to the next sector after that and the one after that. It will never end.”
Octo used the knuckle of his thumb to scratch at one of his eyebrows. After sighing, he began to take another step forward, signaling the end of the conversation. Hector moved his energy disk to block his way.
“Don’t you see? The universe goes on forever and ever. There will always be another place where we’ll have to send ships.”
“I know,” Octo said with a mocking smile. “That isn’t why the Round Table was created. I know.”
Cash leaned in front of Hector. “You know it wasn’t. Why are you set on this course?”
Octo looked at Hector, then at the man beside him, then back at Hector again. “Look at it from the other perspective: there will always be more civilizations to free, more people who need our help.”
Hector shook his head and closed his eyes. What he was hearing was almost as bad as seeing two fleets engage in battle above the planet.
“Please,” he said, reaching forward and taking hold of one of Octo’s arms.
He either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the look of discomfort that came across Octo’s face at having a hand made of metal and energy grip his wrist.
“We know almost nothing about the Carthagens,” Hector said again. “We know even less about what lies beyond them. How much longer until our ships reach a civilization that can stand up to our fleet? How much longer until our ships arrive somewhere and are viewed as invaders rather than liberators? Would you want a foreign fleet appearing above Edsall Dark and telling us we had to join them... or else?”
Octo smiled and politely remained silent until Hector released his grip.
“You have quite the imagination, Hector. Is that really what you’re afraid of?” He nodded and began walking further down the hall, leaving Hector and Cash standing alone in the corridor.
“Don’t you see?” Hector wanted to yell. “I’m afraid exactly because I don’t know what’s out there.”
However, the only person near him was Cash, and so Hector only exhaled, let his chin drop down toward his chest in defeat, and then hovered away from the Great Hall.
27
For a moment, it didn’t matter to Julian if the ship in front of him was a hologram or not. He was too overcome by its sheer size to think of more practical matters. Its overwhelming scale reminded him of Balor, the monster of the Cauldrons of Dagda, standing over a little MaqMac. As mighty as Julian’s own ships were, the thing in front of him was a monster of a different sort—a fortified, oblong planet, an ancient god encased in armor. For the briefest of moments, his knees went weak and he wanted not only to reach out and steady himself but to give the order to turn around and return to Edsall Dark.
Then, seeing the look of doubt on his son’s face, he set his jaw and straightened his posture. “Someone tell me what that thing in front of us is. And I want confirmation that it’s a hologram and not a real object.”
He knew how easy it was to become complacent. In the academy, every student learned stories from the annals of history in which a ship’s captain ignored a clear threat because it was something he had encountered many times before.
This metal juggernaut wasn’t anything he had seen before, but he did think it would turn out to be another Carthagen hologram. While his instinct was to run his ships through the projection’s middle and continue ahead—the ultimate show of strength and resolve—he still wanted confirmation that it was indeed a hologram as he guessed it to be.
“Sensors indicate there’s nothing in front of us, sir,” one of his officers confirmed from her seat at a series of displays across from Talbot.
“Are we being targeted?” he asked the officer controlling the shields.
“No, sir.”
“Can you find a target to lock on to?” he asked his son.
Talbot looked up from his controls and said, “No, sir.”
Julian nodded and crossed his arms.
A series of four hangar doors began to open on the moon-sized behemoth, two on either side of the massive vessel. A minute later, four enormous mechs, each larger than a Llyushin fighter, appeared from the hangars. Each had two arms and two legs and stood atop a flat craft like a hover transport that could carry the mech wherever it needed to go.
“That’s one hell of a hologram,” an ensign said, not even realizing he had uttered the words aloud.
Julian turned and looked at him. A colonel on the command deck walked over to where the ensign sat, whispered something in his ear, then walked to the other side of the deck, leaving the ensign red-faced.
Julian had to admit the image created in front of them was impressive. After appearing from the four hangars, the mechs were carried by their transport platforms until they were in a line in front of the giant vessel. They maintained position, facing Julian and the rest of his fleet. There was something about the way the four giant mechs remained perfectly motionless, facing the oncoming Round Table ships, that seemed even more threatening than a cannon blast or a proton torpedo launch. It might have been the way each mech held a weapon, seemingly staring directly at the oncoming fleet. It might have been the way they held formation in a line as if they alone would be able to turn Julian’s ships away.
While the mechs were all roughly the same size and shape, each was vastly different from the next and from any other kind of mech Julian had seen before. The hover platforms they rode upon were also unique.
The metal of the first mech was stained white, as was the hover transport it stood upon. Like stained wood, the color of the base material still came through. The armored colossus wasn’t pure white but rather looked like the ghost of a great machine of war. In one of its grips was a long curved pole with a tight cord that ran from one end to the other. It had no ammunition that Julian could see and there was nothing he knew of that resembled the thing in front of him, but it looked like some sort of ion bow.
The second mech was reddish brown. With the metal underneath it, the mech looked like it had been smeared with mud and blood that had long ago dried and begun to flake away. The transport it stood upon was the same color. This mech was slightly larger and wider than the first, and in its grip was one enormous sword, which it held upright, directly in front of its chest and that extended far above its head. The sword rippled with red and brown energy as if it were a sickly version of a vibro sword. The swirls of rapidly shifting colors within the blade resembled flames trying to escape a metal prison.
The third mech in the row was darker than even the HC Ballistic Cruiser that Julian was aboard. In a starless and black sky, it and the transport it stood upon would be nearly invisible.
“Magnify the image of the third one,” Julian said, squinting to make out what was in its grip.
On the viewport in front of him, the image enlarged and the third mech took up the entire panel. Even so, the black metal against the void of space made it difficult to tell what the mech was holding. It looked as if it were a bar, twice as long as the mech’s grip was wide, with a disk balanced on either side of it.
Still not understanding what he was seeing, Julian nodded and the screen went back to the view they had been looking at before, with the vessel and the four mechs in front of it.
The fourth and final mech was a pale, dull gray and didn’t shine at all, not even when light was cast directly upon it. It was slightly shorter and more slender than the others beside it, although still far larger than any other mech Julian had ever seen. In one of its grips was a staff with a blade like a sword’s, but which curved out to the side and back toward the staff.
For a moment, Julian stared at the four mechs of varying colors and w
eaponry and also at the monstrous moon-sized vessel behind them. As he did, he remembered the hologram that recreated the battle at Dela Turkomann and the Excalibur Armada as well as the hologram of his own vessels. Both of those projections had seemed to Julian to be nothing more than technologically advanced means of unnerving his crew.
This, though, made him rethink what he was doing in the middle of the Orleans asteroid field. Very little was known about the Carthagens. That was true. Did they have a real ship like this? Is that how they traveled from one home to another, ensuring other civilizations had as little contact with them as possible?
The other holograms had been meant to scare him away. This one was surely meant to do the same. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The mechs in front of him didn’t even have four arms and four legs like Carthagens were known to have. Instead, they were some kind of recreation of what the Carthagens must think was intimidating.
He couldn’t turn around now. If he did, he would have to go home and report that after all of his successes, he had chosen to end the mission early because a hologram had projected four different colored mechs—albeit enormous in size—and a ship that dwarfed some moons. Not the actual threats, but holograms of them.
There had been nothing during his campaign to make him doubt he could complete the mission until he had entered the asteroid field. This should be no different and he wouldn’t treat it any other way. He would find the Carthagens, have them join the Round Table, and then return home with his son.
Looking to his side, he noticed that Talbot was still sitting at the weapons console but was no longer running diagnostics on the systems. Instead, his son was staring, wide-eyed, at the images that were being projected in front of them.
“Proceed ahead,” Julian announced. The navigator set a course and the engines came up to speed.
As his HC Ballistic Cruiser approached, the four mechs stood their ground, as did the enormous vessel behind them. Julian, watching each mech without blinking, was almost convinced that there were eyes behind the armor of each giant mech’s head. Not only that, but that each set of eyes were focused directly at him. The sight made him wonder if it were an android he was looking at, an alien wearing armor, or something else.
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