“We aren’t lost.”
Rather than ask what Talbot was talking about when it clearly didn’t make any sense, the lieutenant went ahead and asked the second part. “What’s the bad news?”
“We’re in the middle of an even more elaborate Carthagen trap than we thought.”
82
On their way out of the Orleans asteroid field, the Round Table flagships moved at a tenth of the speed as when they had first entered. Instead of a giant vessel leading the way, a dozen probes moved in wide snaking patterns to find any additional hidden threats that might have drifted into their path. Instead of Julian’s HC Ballistic Cruiser ahead of the other flagships, Brigadier Desttro’s Hellship was in front. The remaining Flying Fortress brought up the rear of the fleet because its wide and flat frame made it more susceptible to damage from even the smaller asteroids.
They had entered the asteroid field with twelve ships. They were leaving with nine.
On their way toward their final stop in the Cartha sector, each of the brigadiers had been ready to bring another race of aliens into the Round Table. On their way out, they wondered what had gone so wrong and tried to keep from thinking whether Julian and the others were still alive or not.
As they made their way toward the outer edge of the asteroid field, none of the brigadiers had open communication lines with anyone else in the fleet. None of them wanted to acknowledge the fact that they were likely leaving friends behind.
83
Half of the representatives at the Round Table tried to keep civility and order in the discussions. The other half bickered about what course of action should be taken with Arc-Mi-Die. The result was hundreds of people from the majority of advanced species around the galaxy arguing in dozens of different languages.
On one side of the table, Octo shook his head as he engaged in a private conversation with Winchester and another representative. Cash did the same with a Tri-Tuk, a tiny rodent-like alien,. Cimber could be heard to yell, “This is ridiculous,” and “I wish everyone would shut up already.”
Hector shook his head. Looking around the Great Hall caused shooting pains to rack the part of his body where his torso attached to his energy disk and again where his neck and ribs met his prosthetic shoulder. The phantom pains only ever seemed to hit him as disorder spread across the room. In the Great Hall, every part of his body that he had been lost to war now came back to haunt him, reminding him of how much he had given up. From the chaos and bickering, he concluded that his sacrifices had all been for nothing.
For the tenth time that day, he wondered how the Round Table had changed from the idea Vere had created to the monstrosity laid out in front of him. He had seen in her eyes, even as Morgan was furious that the CasterLan Kingdom would cease to exist, that Vere knew exactly what she was doing. Her belief had been contagious.
Now, though, Hector couldn’t help but wonder if he had simply been caught up in a movement that played on his dreams of a galaxy without war more than it ever could have appealed to his understanding of the flaws of mortal beings. Whether they were descendants of a famous bloodline or elected officials, humans and aliens alike still had natural weaknesses and faults. Apparently, they were so ingrained that they could prevent any progress on any issue, no matter how important.
“How could Vere have been so wrong?” he mumbled.
“Sir.”
Hector swiveled away from the Round Table. Pistol was standing there with his hand extended and a small device held in his palm. Hector took it, but before he read it he studied the android.
“You were with Vere when she was freed from the Cauldrons of Dagda.”
“Yes,” Pistol said, even though it had been more an observation than a question.
“She dictated the message that was sent out, right? The original Round Table message.”
“Yes. In the back of the Pendragon as Morgan and Traskk were trying to evade Vonnegan ships.”
Hector gave a half smile and stared at the android. Hector remembered Vere and Morgan and all of the other friends he had come to respect—most of whom he didn’t see anymore.
“How was she?”
Pistol’s eyes lit up briefly as he analyzed how to interpret the vague question. “She had just been freed from grueling hard labor. She was mentally and physically drained.”
“And yet you sent the message she gave you about disbanding the CasterLan Kingdom? You didn’t think that was odd, that perhaps she was mentally unstable?”
Again, Pistol’s eyes illuminated as he processed the questions—questions that sounded like accusations. “I only carry out the orders I am given. That is what all androids are programmed to do.”
So that was it, Hector thought. Vere had lost a piece of her sanity at the Cauldrons. Morgan had realized Vere’s message for what it had been—the ravings of an emotionally damaged prisoner. Hector, on the other hand, had wanted to see it as what he had longed for—the end of galactic war.
“I would add, though,” Pistol said, “that Vere acted and sounded completely rational while she gave me that message.”
Hector’s eyes shifted from staring at the android’s false skin to looking at Pistol’s eyes. “Did she?”
“Yes. I had never seen her so composed and focused before. She knew exactly what she wanted the message to say. She told me it was a solution provided to her by beings far more intelligent than herself, and that delivering that message was a big part of her purpose in the galaxy. She sounded rational and intelligent. I had no doubt she knew what she was saying and that she believed it.”
“Thank you, Pistol.” And then, with his eyes closed, Hector added, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Vere.”
He turned on the comms unit that the android had given him and read the update. Without realizing it, Hector frowned and clutched his chest as if all the air had been forced out of his lungs.
“Are you all right?” Pistol asked.
“I’m fine,” he said eventually. “I’m fine.”
Pistol nodded and left the Great Hall.
Hector read the update again and again. Each time, the ringing in his ears seemed to grow in intensity, drowning out the bickering all around him. He had to force himself to breathe. The comms unit creaked under the crushing force of his clenched hand.
After collecting himself, he noticed the room was still full of arguments. Of course it was. Without someone to make them act like the representatives they were supposed to be, Hector had no doubt they would continue to be that way until the session was over and another day had been wasted.
The entire idea of the Round Table that so many had died for was being ruined because these people couldn’t be respectful and discuss matters civilly. The largest collection of kingdoms ever assembled in the galaxy was on the verge of disintegrating because everyone had to say something and no one could agree with anyone else. It was madness.
Hector read the update one more time. When he got to the last line, he balled both hands into fists and slammed them down on the wood table with enough force that the entire table rattled and the portion in front of him cracked.
“Silence!” he yelled at the entire room. “Will all of you be silent just long enough to hear something important? Is that possible?” He let his eyes roam the table, daring anyone to say something. No one did. “I’ve received an update from the Round Table fleet.”
Every eye was focused on him. The only noise in the Great Hall was from the collective sound of hundreds of various types of aliens breathing.
“General Reiser is missing in action.” There were gasps and a burst of questions but Hector spoke above them. “As are Brigadiers Warwick and Exeter and a dozen other officers. Brigadier Maceus’ flagship was destroyed and all aboard were killed.”
Even though he was practically yelling now in an attempt to be heard, his voice was still drowned out by the hundreds of representatives shouting their outrage. Hector’s greatest dismay, however, wasn’t that they went right back to arguing. It wasn’t eve
n that his friend was presumed to be either dead or taken prisoner by the Carthagens. It was that some of the representatives called for more Round Table ships to be sent to the Orleans asteroid field.
It was exactly the type of sentiment Vere had been against and was the reason she gave up the CasterLan Kingdom for something greater. It was exactly the opposite of what had made Hector go into the blood tunnels in search of the Vonnegan forces, losing an arm in the process.
In a sensation he was becoming accustomed to, it became difficult to breathe and he felt like he had been kicked in the gut. The cause was the same as always: the Round Table, which had brought order to the galaxy, was slipping into chaos right before his eyes.
84
Lancelot had only ever piloted one ship in her life. It was the Type III Burst shuttle that Bookknow had rescued her with. As she had grown older, it was also the vessel that he had taught her to pilot.
She had a vague memory of the transport her father used to escape Arc-Mi-Die when she was a child, but the recollection was mostly only a sensation of fear. She couldn’t even remember what type of transport it had been or where her father had learned to fly it. As far as she was concerned, the Type III Burst shuttle was all she really knew.
After walking up the ship’s ramp, she pressed a button and watched the doors close. Once aboard, she took a quick inventory of the items in the main bay. There was a blanket, a medical kit, some rations. She walked to the cockpit and began powering on each system. The dark and cramped cockpit began to glow with flickering lights. A series of holographic displays provided blue and purple light that made the cockpit look twice as large as when it had been shrouded in shadows.
Before each duel with the other Carthagens, she had never been nervous, angry, or excited. She knew she was going to be victorious and merely performed the actions necessary to ensure the desired outcome. The same dispassionate sense of duty filled her as she checked the ship’s systems. She wasn’t sad to be leaving or happy for the next part of her life to begin. Instead, she was ready for whatever would unfold next.
It would have been easy to resent the Carthagens for making her believe she had been protecting a vast civilization hidden among the asteroids. She didn’t, though. The emotion she associated with them was one of sadness. Not for herself, but for them. She was leaving a life of seclusion and isolation; they were the ones still stuck in it.
Julian and his soldiers would have been another understandable object of her scorn. It was their arrival which had forever changed her circumstances and led to this moment. It was their foolish expedition that had forced her to choose between living for herself or for the elders. But again, she didn’t hold a grudge against them at all. None of the officers in the caves, least of all Julian, had evil intent. They were simply misguided.
Mortimous was fond of telling her that everything happened for a reason. After all, how else could anyone explain the miraculous set of circumstances that had led to her being saved that fateful day by Bookknow when on any other day she would have been killed? That was why she tried not to judge the Dauphin or even the Round Table officers. All of them were trying to live their lives as best they could. It was also why she had no expectations for what would happen next.
Her eyes narrowed, and she sensed someone else was there. Rather than give Mortimous the pleasure of acknowledging him, she went about checking the engine display, the shields, and every other part of the ship.
The voice that came from behind her wasn’t Mortimous’, however. It was a woman’s.
“Hello, Lancelot.”
Rather than draw her Meursaults, Lancelot merely glanced behind her as if visitors were welcome and returned to checking the ship’s status. In that one quick look, she saw a lot. The figure wasn’t dressed in black robes but in light brown canvas. Like Mortimous, the woman was covered from head to toe in a cloak that prevented any part of her from being seen. But from her posture and voice, Lancelot gathered that the woman was only slightly older than herself.
“Friend of the old guy?” she asked, her voice making it clear she was more concerned with getting off the asteroid and putting distance between herself and Orleans than with making small talk.
“I was hoping you would do me a favor, Lancelot.”
Lancelot couldn’t help but offer a snide laugh. “Sorry, but I’m done doing favors for other people. It’s time I start living for myself. What makes you think I would want to help you?”
“A hunch.”
Lancelot waited for the robed figure to offer more in the way of an answer. She finished powering up the engines, cycled through the life support systems, and checked to make sure the Dauphin hadn’t changed their minds and sealed her exit. A minute later, when she still hadn’t received a better answer, she finally turned to see what the woman wanted.
No one was there.
“Very well, then,” she said, then sent power to the engines and pulled back on the navigation stick. The shuttle lifted off the platform, rotated to face the tunnel’s exit, then rapidly picked up speed as it raced out and into the asteroid field.
85
“Okay, turn around and come back for me,” Talbot said.
The barge was still within view. He could simply leave the hidden hallway he was in and run toward it, but they would lose any element of surprise they might still possess at learning the Carthagens’ game. By telling Lieutenant Marv-Lel to return to his former position, the Carthagens that could hear their communications might still think the Round Table officers thought they had left one of their own behind.
As he watched from the edge of the energy field overlooking the cavern, a Carthagen on the other side of the open trap leaned close to the hidden sub-corridor he was positioned at and looked all across the cave floor for a human. On the other side of the giant stone cave, the transport barge turned around and began moving. When it got to the middle, however, it stopped moving even though the engines were still powered up. That, along with the holograms that made it look at if they were traveling through tunnels, would lead Marv-Lel and the others to think they were still continuing back through a labyrinth within the asteroid. After thirty seconds, the transport’s engines powered down and Talbot stuck his head back out of the energy field so he could be heard.
“Okay, I’m coming back.”
“Okay,” the lieutenant said impatiently, not knowing what any of this was about.
“Get Brigadier Warwick and the others ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“We’re evacuating the transport.”
“Huh?” In any other circumstance, this was where a senior officer would have stopped humoring the suggestions of a lowly ensign. Given that few of them were still alive and they had tried everything else, Marv-Lel just gave an exasperated sigh.
“We’re going on foot,” Talbot said. “Get everyone ready.”
With his head protruding through the energy field, the entire cavern looked like stone and rock. Knowing it was anything but that, Talbot brought his head back inside the hidden compartment so he could see what was actually there. He counted four Carthagen warriors, each at a different hidden opening like his, each with weapons drawn and ready to attack.
Sticking his head back through the energy field just enough to be heard but not seen, Talbot said, “Uh, lieutenant.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to need some cover fire.”
“What kind?”
Talbot looked at where he knew the four Carthagens were hiding even though all he could see now appeared to be normal rock.
“Every kind you’ve got.”
Then, knowing they had been on the losing side of the strategy since first entering the cave, he decided to show the Carthagens what it felt like.
Realizing they were being eavesdropped and that the element of surprise was over, Talbot added, “There are four Carthagens around you—each roughly ninety degrees apart from the next, each one twenty feet off the ground. Facing the bar
ge’s front, turn to your two o’clock and start there.”
The hidden Carthagens began to pace back and forth behind their hidden energy barriers, nervous as to how a human would know where they were.
There was silence for a moment, then Marv-Lel said, “I don’t see them.”
“Trust me, they’re there.” When he didn’t get a response, Talbot said, “Start shooting, here I come.”
He jumped out of the side corridor where he had been hiding and darted through the energy field out into the main cavern. The first streak of laser was instantaneous. His CAB fell twenty feet and landed on the ground with the same ease with which a human would jump down the final three steps of a staircase. It boomed against the cave floor, a cloud of dust billowing around it. The stone cracked and chipped under the weight of his suit. Laser fire streaked from the transport in four directions. It only took Talbot ten leaping paces to sprint to where the few remaining officers were gathered.
None of the Carthagens attacked. Most likely, each had been too alarmed by the invaders somehow knowing where they had been and were moving to different openings before starting their next offensive. As a result, it looked as though Talbot had panicked for no reason. As soon as he told the other officers what was going on, however, he was sure they would be glad to have the time to regroup.
Talbot jumped on top of the barge to see what was going on. Lieutenants Marv-Lel and Alia were trying to get Warwick off the barge while Ensign Burn-Ees and the three other remaining officers provided a lookout.
“We’re going to have to drag him,” Talbot said.
The lieutenant turned and narrowed his eyes. “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
Without waiting for a response, Marv-Lel went back to work, looking for a piece of armor he could use as a handle. After that, the officers would take turns dragging Warwick across the cave floor.
Talbot began walking back in the direction he reckoned they had originally come from. Knowing that they hadn’t actually been making an endless series of turns made it easy to guess which way the exit would be.
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