As soon as they had turned around and begun making their way back through the tunnels, a disruption like the one that had affected the systems on their flagships began to interfere with the systems on their transport barges. Unable to tell where they were, they had kept moving, choosing different forks in the tunnel when they came to them.
On their way into the tunnels, none of the officers had noted more than two possible routes. They had entered the middle opening and followed the main path that was ahead of them. Now, though, no path seemed more traveled upon than another. No route seemed more advantageous than another.
With one of the transports destroyed in the ambush, the remaining two craft were packed shoulder to shoulder with officers in CAB suits, without much room to move.
“How could we possibly have taken a wrong turn?” Exeter said. It was more an expression of disbelief than an actual question.
Warwick growled, gripped the broken piece of the barge’s railing, and ripped it from the transport.
After another hour of trying to find the cave’s entrance so they could regroup, it was clear they were still no closer to getting back out of the tunnels. Not only that, they were also making no progress toward finding another path to help Julian. They were so lost they didn’t even know if they were going further into the cave or were approaching the asteroid’s outer rim. All they could do was keep traveling through the cave tunnels and hope they found a familiar marker or else ran into the Carthagens who had taken Julian.
To make matters worse, a Carthagen would periodically appear from somewhere further down the tunnel, fire a couple of blasts from a portable cannon, and then be gone by the time they got to where he had been. Each time they paused to find the Carthagen, all they saw was the solid stone of the tunnel walls. It was as if the Carthagens were appearing and disappearing out of thin air.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Warwick grumbled, ready to kill the first alien that came within reach of his CAB’s weapons.
Exeter shook his head and sighed. “We all know there was a Carthegan here somewhere, but my CAB sensors say there isn’t anything. Not even our suits can be trusted.”
An idea crossed Talbot’s mind: It wasn’t just the sensors that had been manipulated earlier, it had also been their eyes; they had seen empty space when there were actually asteroids present. How could they know their eyes weren’t being deceived now?
They stopped less frequently. Eventually, they didn’t slow even when a Carthagen appeared from a hiding spot with a small laser cannon and had gotten a clean shot at them or when another Carthagen appeared behind them and fired laser bursts into their backs.
Around the next bend, a Carthagen appeared in the distance, a weapon resting against one shoulder. An ion grenade was launched, approaching with surprising speed. Before anyone could yell or move, the rocket propelled ion grenade hit a lieutenant under Exeter’s command named Alia. His CAB suit became engulfed in blue swirls of energy. The officer was uninjured, but his suit’s computers were fried, rendering the suit useless. The other officers could either take it off Alia and make him an incredibly vulnerable target, or else lay him on the floor of the barge, still encased in protective armor, and hope they got to safety. They chose the latter option.
“Full stop,” Warwick said, and both transport barges came to a halt. “I’m tired of riding through these tunnels with our heads up our asses. I want all options out on the table for discussion.”
It was why the officers serving under Warwick loved him. He was gruff and had no sense of humor, but he respected the ideas everyone had to offer. He made sure he was doing what made the most sense rather than commanding in a vacuum just to hear himself give orders.
Exeter looked back in the direction they had come. The only thing visible was darkness and stone. When he looked ahead of them again, he saw nothing but more of the same. “It seems to me like we can either turn around and go back where they got Julian, or else keep going. I know it sounds simplistic, but this tunnel has to lead somewhere. I mean, it has to. It’s not like we’re riding in circles.”
Talbot cringed. Both were terrible options. Of course, he would never say that to his lieutenant, let alone one of the brigadiers in charge of the mission. If they turned back, they would just get to the same collapsed tunnel they had wanted to avoid in the first place. If they kept going, they were bound to become even more lost. After all, if they couldn’t find the cave’s entrance after a few hours, what made them think they could find it in another ten hours? Continuing to ride the transports could turn into an endless journey in which they ran out of food and water. Maybe that was what the Carthagens wanted.
“What do you think, Talbot?”
He looked up. Warwick and Exeter were both staring at him through the visors of their CABs.
“Uh, if we could find one of the Carthagens—”
“You think they’ll listen to reason?” a lieutenant said, shaking his head.
“Let him finish,” Warwick snapped, his eyes cold as if he had been the one to get interrupted.
“Well, if we can take one of the Carthagens prisoner, we could try to swap it for my—for General Reiser.”
Exeter shrugged. “We’re lost as lost can be. We’re never going to find our way out without our navigation or comms working. Might as well try.”
“Fine,” Warwick said. Without waiting for further discussion, he stepped off the end of the barge and began walking back through the cave tunnel in the direction they had come. “Come out and play,” he called out to provoke anyone listening.
As he made his way down the path, the cannon on his right shoulder began to glow, indicating it was ready to be fired. He also held a gravity grenade in one hand.
Exeter, Talbot, and the rest of the officers turned to look at each other, wondering whether they should follow on foot or turn the barges around.
“Hey, Carthagens,” Warwick said again, fading into the darkness of the cave. “I want to tell you something.”
In the opposite direction, the way they had been heading, blaster shots began raining on them. Most of the shots either sizzled against the CAB’s heavy armor plating or else were harmlessly absorbed. Each Round Table officer turned to get an estimate of the enemy. As with the transport’s navigation, almost none of the sensors in their helmets were working either. They would have to find the enemy with their eyes.
“I see two,” Talbot said.
“A third one in the shadows,” Exeter added.
A lieutenant next to them set off a barrage of four mini proton rockets while two other CABs peppered the tunnel with hundreds of laser blasts, enough to destroy an entire infantry battalion.
The laser blasts that had been coming toward them immediately stopped. Talbot squinted to see through the smoke. Then, turning to look over his shoulder, he saw Warwick stomping back toward them, unhappy to have missed the exchange.
Behind Warwick was a Carthagen warrior, the same one who had injured Julian. He held two lances and two swords, and he was stampeding up the tunnel, rapidly closing the distance.
Talbot reached out to point out the threat, but before he could yell a warning, a lance pierced Warwick’s chest. The Carthagen behind him raised his other three weapons in victory.
Warwick let out a grunt but said nothing. His arms twitched, his legs moved ever so slightly. All of the Round Table officers turned to aim at the threat, but none of them fired. Their view of the Carthagen was obstructed by Warwick, who was still alive.
The Carthagen gave a roar of victory, then withdrew the lance. Warwick fell face first to the ground. Talbot fired off a string of laser blasts but the Carthagen stepped sideways and disappeared into the tunnel wall. It only took Talbot ten leaping steps to get there, but the enemy was already gone.
“Sir, are you okay?” Talbot said, kneeling down and taking hold of Warwick’s helmet to look inside the visor.
Warwick growled. “You son of a bitch. Drop the formality, kid. I saw you when you were in
diapers.”
“But—”
Before Talbot could say anything else, Exeter and the others were there.
“Get me back to the transport,” Warwick said, his voice equal parts irritation at being injured and vengeful fury at the Carthagen who had pierced him.
It took four of them to carry his CAB back to the barge.
When they put Warwick on the floor beside Lieutenant Alia, the brigadier said, “I don’t care if I die, but damn it if I’ll die before every one of those Carthagens suffers the same fate.”
Everyone nodded but no one said anything.
By default, Exeter was in command now, even though Warwick was still alive and the two of them had been sharing the responsibility. Warwick could do little more than gasp for air and struggle to remain alive.
39
Julian awoke disoriented, cold, and shivering. His hands shook. He had been having some kind of odd dream in which the voices of unseen figures haunted him wherever he went. He could remember the dream, but couldn’t recall any of the things the voices had said to him.
Now he was in a cave, roughly the same size of his bedroom back home. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all solid rock. Even the door was made of stone. There were no windows and the walls bent in a circle so there were also no corners. The room was dank and had a bitter smell.
When he tried to lift his head to get a better look at his surroundings, a searing pain scorched his stomach. Only then did he realize three small medical bots were working on him. Once he noticed their buzz and hum it was impossible to ignore. His CAB suit was off, and his shirt was pulled halfway up his chest. His first instinct was to push the bots away and get to his feet. Trying to do so, however, would have proved futile. Just lifting his head had caused the room to spin; there was no way he would be able to stand. Anyway, the bots were obviously there to heal him rather than kill him. With a groan, he let his head lower back to the floor.
Instead of his head touching hard rock, it rested on some sort of padding. His hand moved outward just enough to feel what his bed was made of then returned to his side once the pain in his stomach flared up again. He was on top of a thick blanket.
“Water,” he mumbled to the bots. “Do you have any water?”
The three bots momentarily stopped what they were doing, focused on Julian, then went back to their work.
“Here,” a metallic, slightly computerized voice said from behind him. “Take small sips or you’ll get sick.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a gloved hand, bronze armor with gold highlights, holding a cup of water. Pain stabbed his gut when he arched his neck to see who was there.
“You,” he said, seeing the Carthagen warrior.
He tried to roll on his side and push himself to his feet but the room spun in circles. The little bit of movement caused so much agony in his stomach that he thought his belly would rip open and spill his guts out.
“You’re going to undo all of the medical bots’ work if you keep acting like that,” the Carthagen said in a dull monotone.
Still, Julian groaned and looked for a nearby weapon. All three medical bots stopped their work while he moved, only continuing again once he was calm.
The Carthagen laughed. “You would be dead if I wanted you that way. Relax and let the bots finish their work. Then you’ll be ready to move.”
“Why?” Julian asked, looking around the room as he sipped the water.
“A couple of reasons. You showed honor back there in the tunnel, trying to protect your soldiers. You deserve better than being impaled through the back. The least I can do is allow you a formal challenge.”
The bots’ presence led Julian to believe the Carthagen. Knowing that he would recover from his injuries, he began to regain his bravado.
“After I defeat you, can I get another shot at the bastard that drove me through with the lance?”
The Carthagen laughed again. “You’re looking at the bastard. It was my lance.”
“Lance-a-lot?” Julian said, squinting.
The Carthagen gave a slight nod. “Lancelot. But I’m not picky. I have many names.”
Once more, Julian pushed the bots away and tried to get to his feet. As he did, the room seemed to swirl in one circle after another and his gut felt like it was on fire.
“You nearly killed me back there just so you could bring me back?”
“Don’t sound too appreciative. Do you want a second chance or not? I thought it was the honorable thing to do, but I can just as easily kill you right now if you want.”
Once again, Julian stopped struggling against his own pain and relaxed on the blanket. The medical bots moved back into place.
“The Terror of the Cartha Sector sure is restless,” Lancelot goaded. “Be patient. Your time will come.”
Julian closed his eyes because it helped reduce the nausea and let him focus. Exeter had referred to him by that nickname right before Lancelot had destroyed their barge and impaled him.
“Ignore that,” he said weakly. “It was just one of my officers joking around.”
“Some joke,” Lancelot said. “We’ll have to see if he has the same sense of humor when my lances go through him.”
“Don’t underestimate my soldiers. We’ve faced far greater adversaries than you, I can tell you that. And all of them eventually came around to our side.”
Lancelot chuckled. Through his helmet, it sounded like a steady motorized hum. “Your soldiers are hopelessly lost in the tunnels. The one I saw a short while ago is going to bleed out unless he gets medical attention, which seems unlikely seeing as how they will never find their way back out of the caves.”
Julian’s eyes burst open. “Which of my officers did you hurt?”
“How should I know his name? The brash one with the anger problem.”
Julian’s eyes closed again. Not his son. Talbot was fine.
“Warwick,” he said. “His name is Warwick.”
“A fine name,” Lancelot said with approval. “It’s a shame he will die in the tunnels.”
Julian pushed himself up to one elbow. “Let them go and when I get better I’ll take my forces away and we won’t come back.”
Even before Lancelot said anything, Julian knew the response he was going to get.
Lancelot shook his head. “That is not the way things will work. The medical bots will heal you and then you and I will duel. I will defeat you and you will die. As will your aimless friends in the caves.”
“Give us a chance to leave peacefully and we’ll—”
“You had a chance,” Lancelot said, standing up to his full height. On all four legs, back straight, and head up, and with Julian lying on the ground, the Carthagen looked impossibly tall. “You had three chances, in fact. We gave you three warnings and you ignored each one. What type of civilization needs to experience death in order to understand the seriousness of their situation?”
“Please,” Julian said.
“The Terror of the Cartha Sector doesn’t sound so threatening anymore.”
The three medical bots worked in unison, one injecting Julian with a needle, another sending a yellow laser through part of his stomach, the last performing a scan of the injury. It took all of Julian’s restraint to keep from pushing them away.
As if sensing this, Lancelot said, “Patience. You’ll be healed shortly. Then you can die.”
40
Hector shook his head. Portia leaned closer to him and squeezed his arm. She found herself positioned on the same side of him each time they went for a walk so she could feel the warmth of his remaining flesh-and-blood arm.
“I’m failing in my duty,” he said. as they moved across the same fields that Portia and Margaret enjoyed.
Years earlier, in the same place, the Vonnegan army had met the Round Table forces and Hector had faced his worst fears again. No matter how many times he visited the fields since then, he always expected another Vonnegan trooper to appear with a blaster, always expected to h
ear the screams of his soldiers as they died in the tunnels underneath the planet’s surface.
“My love, all you can do is keep trying to talk sense into them,” said Portia. “People are decent at heart, I believe that. Don’t give up on them quite yet.”
“They don’t listen to me anymore,” he admitted. “I’m a relic.”
Many men would want to downplay their failures. Hector was different, and it was one of the reasons Portia loved him. He never missed an opportunity to confide when he didn’t live up to his own expectations.
“All it will take is one reminder for everyone to know you’re right and start listening to you again. I still have faith in the Round Table. And I know, even though you get frustrated, that you do too.”
41
The bots remained at Julian’s side for a few minutes after they had completed their work. Each one beeped, turned to Lancelot for further instructions, then headed to the stone door. Without any button being pressed, a slab of rock that had been perfectly aligned with the curved wall jutted out from the rest of the cavern and slid aside. Once the bots were gone, the panel of stone slid closed once more.
“Your armor,” Lancelot said, pointing to what looked to be another wall of stone.
Again, a rectangle of rock moved to the side, revealing a compartment in which each piece of Julian’s CAB was stored.
Julian moved his hips from side to side in order to test his injury. There was absolutely no pain in his abdomen and no restrictions on his movement. Satisfied, he got up and walked over to his suit of armor.
“They do good work,” he said, nodding back in the direction the bots that had disappeared.
“I wouldn’t know,” Lancelot said. “It’s always my opponent who needs them, not me.”
At the hidden compartment, Julian ran his fingers across each piece of the CAB. It was all there, in the same condition he had last seen. A large hole on either side of the torso showed where he had been impaled.
“Who else have you fought?” he asked.
Lancelot looked up from the middle of the floor where he was folding the blanket that Julian had used as a bed. It was the only item to be found in the entire room.
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