ISBN: 978-1-4835701-1-2
Acknowledgments
I’d like to express my gratitude to everyone who helped and encouraged me to finish Refusing Excalibur and get it out to the masses.
I would like to thank Bubblecow for the editorial services of Paul Simpson, who provided invaluable feedback and help make Refusing Excalibur the best novel it could be. I would also like to thank Gary Smailes for connecting me with Denise Baker for the final proofread.
I would like to thank Denise Baker for her excellent work cleaning up Refusing Excalibur for publication.
And I would like to thank Bookbaby for helping me get Refusing Excalibur to the market.
Contents
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part II
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part III
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Part I
Savannah
Chapter 1
A small boy darted between trellises, his hand clutching an action figure. Victor had no idea if the well-articulated toy was a man in armor or a robot, but his son, Alex, seemed to think it could fly, based on the way he ran around, holding the toy before him, while he made whooshing sounds.
“I’d say that toy you got him was a hit,” Gina said, lying next to Victor on the tarp laid out over the grass adjacent to the vineyard Alex played in. Her light brown hair, fairer than the black hair of most Savannans, shook in a breeze, carrying the freshwater scent of Lake Valor. Alex had inherited his mother’s hair, though the rest of him, including his prominent nose and long face, came from Victor.
“He asked for it for his birthday. It was the least I could do after missing the previous one. Can’t remember what it’s called though,” Victor said.
“The Guardian.” Gina sighed. “He’s been going on about it ever since he saw an ad for it. You do realize it’s for six-and-up, right?”
Victor shrugged. “Five’s close enough, I think. And I made sure to remove all the spring-loaded weapons before I gave it to him.”
“He’ll ask for those back,” Gina said.
“Yes, but that’ll be your problem.” Victor kissed his wife on the lips. “I’ll be light years away by the time he thinks to ask.”
She poked him in the chest. “You louse. I swear you cheated at that coin flip.”
“I let you pick the coin, remember?”
“Hrmmph. You still could’ve switched them.” Gina was quiet for a moment and then said, “So what’s the next plan for ending this war?”
“You know I don’t like to talk shop, Gina,” Victor said.
“First, I used to have the same job as you. Second, I’m not talking shop. I’m talking the future of our son.” She glanced toward Alex while the boy wove the Guardian between trellises in his make-believe flight.
Victor sat up and rested his arms on his knees. “Well, there isn’t a ‘next plan.’ We’re still on the same plan.”
“Stay bottled up in our home system until the Lysandrans get tired of us,” Gina said.
“Yes, with some commerce raiding and asymmetrical operations to encourage them to call for an armistice,” Victor said.
“Asymmetrical operations is a nice way of saying terrorism.”
He looked away. “We’re destroying their star freighters faster than they can build them. They’ll have to sue for peace eventually. If for no other reason than because continuing this war will ruin their economy."
“And what about our economy?” Gina asked.
“Already ruined.”
“And yet we’re still fighting. What’s to say the Lysandrans won’t do the same?” Gina asked.
Victor leaned closer to his wife. “We’re fighting on our doorstep. We don’t have supply lines to defend. The Lysandrans do. And we’re constantly raiding those. Sooner or later, Emperor Magnus will have to turn his fleet around and go home.”
“So we’ll win the war because we’ve lost?” Gina’s brows furrowed. “I’ve never taken you for someone prone to doublethink, Victor.”
“I’m not doublethinking,” Victor said. “We’re in a very strong defensive position. Even with their numerical advantage, the Lysandrans can’t force their way into the system.”
“They forced their way into every other system that we tried to defend,” Gina said.
“Not here, not with the entire Republic Navy ready to smash any and every Lysandran ship that comes through the Arcadia jump point,” Victor said.
Gina gave him a hard look. “What if they fail, Victor? What if the Lysandrans still break through?”
Victor glanced at his son as he ran around the vineyards with the Guardian in hand, then turned back to his wife. “Then we run. You, me, and Alex. We board the Osprey and make for the Free Worlds.”
Gina arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“Yes.”
“What about the Osprey’s crew?”
“They bring their families too,” Victor said.
“You’ve discussed this with them?”
“Very circumspectly, yes.”
“A cruiser isn’t a passenger ship.”
“It’ll be crowded, yes. We’d have to put people into hibernation to keep from burning through our consumables too fast.”
“We’ll still need to replenish those eventually.”
“Yes.” Victor nodded. “We’ll sell our services to one of the Free Worlds, run cargo, or even go pirate if needed. Whatever it takes to keep us moving. At least until we find a safe place to settle.”
Gina rested her head on Victor’s chest. “Would anywhere be safe?”
“Somewhere. If not, I’ll make it safe.”
Gina lifted her head off his chest, smiled, and then kissed him. “I know you will.” She turned to see Alex running up with his toy. “You ready to go inside, kiddo? Grandma’s probably fixed lunch by now.”
“Can I bring the Guardian with me?” Alex asked.
“Only if he can sit still.” She looked at Victor. “And the same applies to you.”
Victor stood and helped up his wife. “You and Alex go ahead. I want to talk to Daniel before eating lunch.”
Gina gave him a sad look and cupped the side of his face. “All right. Just be sure to come back before your food gets cold, or you know I’ll never hear the end of it from your mother.”
Victor took her hand and held it. “I will.” He let go and knelt in front of his son, mussing his light brown hair. “I’ll see you soon, little guy.”
“I’m not little,” Alex said.
Victor nodded. “No, I suppose not.” He stood and turned to walk up a low hill overlooking Lake Valor.
***
“Hello, Dan. Nice day, huh?” Victor said.
The gravestone with the name DANIEL SELAN carved on its face didn’t respond.
“Your nephew just turned five,” Victor continued. “I got him a nice, expensive, and age-inappropriate toy for his birthday. You’d li
ke it. The Guardian, it’s called.”
Daniel’s gravestone didn’t have any comment on that either.
Victor knelt and placed his hand on the grass in front of the gravestone yet looked skyward. “I know that things probably don’t look too good from up there. They don’t look too good from here either. But I think we’re wearing down the Lysandrans finally. If any of those cowards in the Free Worlds had helped us, we’d probably have beaten the Lysandrans outright by now.”
Three years ago, Victor’s younger brother had been part of a diplomatic mission, traveling around the Free Worlds to seek allies in the war against the Lysandrans.
Back then the Republic still controlled the Arcadia system, and the war had settled into a kind of stalemate. It was hoped, with the help of just one of the Free Worlds, the tide of the war could be turned in the Republic’s favor.
But all the Free Worlds had refused. They were either too busy fighting each other, too afraid of incurring the wrath of the Lysandran Empire, or just plain didn’t care.
On planet Mohawk the Republic’s hunt for allies ended when the Mohawk king decided to refuse the Republic in the most emphatic way possible. He had every last member of the diplomatic mission, including Daniel, publicly beheaded.
Victor had been there when the refrigerated container containing the heads of their diplomats arrived from Mohawk, along with a terse refusal letter.
A retaliatory strike was planned, but then the Lysandrans launched an offensive on the Arcadia system, and the Republic found they had more immediate concerns than vengeance.
Victor balled his fist into a death grip around the grass growing above Daniel’s grave. After this war was over, the Republic’s first order of business would be to deal with Mohawk and their king.
But victory against the Lysandrans was an unlikely prospect. In all probability, Daniel would go unavenged.
Victor remained crouched in front of the grave for another minute, getting his emotions back under control.
Once his temper cooled, he stood.
“I’ll be by again after I return from the Osprey’s next patrol.” He looked in the direction of the mansion that had been his family’s home since the Fall of the First Civilization. A gleaming white cubist structure that didn't look over a thousand years old. “Keep an eye on Alex and Gina while I’m away.”
***
When Victor returned to the house, someone was waiting there who he had not expected to see. His father.
Admiral Emmet Selan, a member of the triumvirate who overthrew the elected government a decade earlier, sat at the table eating with his grandson and daughter-in-law.
His father shared Victor’s black eyes, prominent nose, and long face, but his hair was more gray than black.
Dressed in civilian attire, Victor's father was here as “Dad” rather than as “Admiral Selan.” A familiar case rested at his feet.
“Hello, Victor,” his father said.
“Hi, Dad.” Victor remained standing, pointed his chin at the case. “What’s that for?”
Victor’s father glanced down at it. “It’s been a while since we’ve last sparred.”
“Physically at least. Which doesn’t explain why you brought that.” Victor pointed again at the case. “We have plenty of those in the house.”
“Yes, but this one is special,” Admiral Selan said.
Victor’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Too special for simple sparring.”
“Not today,” Admiral Selan said.
Victor crossed his arms. “Right now?”
“Of course not.” His father planted a hand on Alex’s hand. The boy giggled at his touch. “I’m having lunch with my grandson. And, besides, I wouldn’t want to force you to fight on an empty stomach.”
Victor nodded and sat down to eat.
“Are you and Grandpa going to fight?” Alex asked.
“We’re just getting in some practice,” Victor said.
“Can I watch?” Alex asked. He was fascinated with weapons the way small boys often were.
Gina looked across the table at Victor and shook her head. “He may not.”
Victor put a roast beef sandwich on Alex’s plate. “Boss has spoken, kiddo.”
Alex huffed in disappointment.
While Victor enjoyed his still-warm sandwich, his mother, Katrina Selan, sat down and chatted with his father. A tall, handsome woman with black hair graying at the temples. She was the only adult at the table who had never served in the military.
As a botanist, she had perhaps the most important task of all of them: making sure Savannah grew enough food to feed its people while the Lysandran siege cut them off from the rest of the galaxy.
In her spare time, she managed the vineyards of the Selan estate. From what Victor gathered from his mother’s conversation with his father, she seemed to think the mild weather from the past year would lead to the production of a particularly good vintage.
While his parents talked, Victor occasionally exchanged smiles from across the table with Alex and Gina.
When he finished eating, his father squeezed his mother’s hand and then got up, case in hand. “You ready?” he asked Victor.
“Yep.”
“Can I please watch?” Alex asked.
Victor walked around the table and crouched down to eye level with the boy. "Maybe next time, kiddo. Why don’t you tell your mother about the Guardian while I’m busy with Grandpa. Okay?”
“Okay,” Alex said.
Victor winked at his wife, who just rolled her eyes at him as he walked to his room.
As Victor departed, Alex held up the Guardian and made the toy wave at him. Victor waved back and then walked out the door.
There, he changed from his clothes and into padded armor. With a helmet tucked under his arm, he proceeded to the sword room, where his father sat on a bench dressed in padded armor of his own. The box he had been carrying now rested next to him, open, revealing the empty red-velvet depression inside. Victor's father held the box's contents in his hand. It was a metal rod covered in black polymer. Silvery metal stuck out from both ends. Emmet Selan stood and held the handle away from him.
The bit of metal at the top of the handle changed shape, elongating into a thin, slightly curved katana-style blade which his father favored.
“Good to see the family variblade still works,” Victor said, while his father admired the blade.
“Variblades don’t wear out,” his father said. The metal that formed the blade was actually a mass of tiny machines known colloquially as morphmetal. A regular dusting of fine metal powder kept the blade in factory-fresh condition. Only the polymer grip needed replacing every now and then.
“I hope you plan on using a training key.” Victor tilted his head. “Unless you intend this fight to end at first blood.”
The admiral grimaced at Victor and retracted the variblade. He then pulled a chip from the variblade’s box and inserted it into the handle. The training key would alter the variblade's physical properties to make it safe for sparing. “Choose your weapon.”
Victor walked over to a rack where three training variblades rested, picking the one at the top. The blade automatically interfaced with the control implants in Victor’s hand. He held the blade in front of him and, with a thought, transformed the variblade into a straight double-edge longsword.
“I hope that’s not the only weapon you’ve been practicing with,” his father said.
Victor retracted the sword and turned to his father. “Why don’t you find out?”
Emmet smirked and put on his helmet. Victor did the same.
The two men walked onto the mat in the center of the sword room.
“Rules?” Victor asked.
“First to land three blows," his father said. "Does that work for you?”
Victor smirked behind his mask. “It works.”
“Good.” Emmet formed the ancient Selan family variblade into a katana and dropped into a fighting crouch.
Victor reformed his blade and chose a high stance.
For several heartbeats, the two men stood there, staring at each other, still as statues.
Then, at the same time, they both moved. Blade rang against blade, and both men bounced back from each other, only to launch forward again.
This time the blades didn’t touch. Victor’s father brought up his sword in a horizontal block, but, just before Victor’s blade reached it, the blade retracted into the handle.
Victor’s sword cut nothing but air, and he stumbled forward. Before he could recover, he felt a sharp sting on his shoulder.
“You’re dead,” said his father. The curved blade of his weapon was now sticking out the other end of the variblade’s handle.
Victor turned to face him, variblade ready. “First to three.”
Emmet launched a feint, but Victor saw through it, forming his variblade into a hatchet to catch his father’s sword. He then grabbed the hilt of his father’s variblade with his off hand and used it, in conjunction with the hatchet against the blade, to twist the variblade from his father’s hand, disarming him.
Victor followed up by striking his father in the side of the ribs with the hatchet.
“Ooof!” Victor's father cupped the side of his chest. He chuckled and said, “Good to see you know how to change weapons midfight.”
“That’s why it’s called a variblade.” Victor picked up his father’s weapon and threw it toward him.
Emmet caught the variblade single-handed. “Quite.”
They squared off again, Victor holding his weapon in front of him in a one-hand grip, pointed at his father’s chest.
Emmet batted aside Victor’s blade and horizontally slashed toward Victor’s head.
Victor knocked away the blade and counterattacked, thrusting his blade toward his father’s midsection.
Emmet spun around the blade and landed a hard blow against Victor’s thigh, enough to make him gasp in pain.
“That’s two."
Victor rubbed the spot where he was hit for a moment and then returned to his fighting stance, his variblade in front of him in both hands. “Well? Come and finish me.”
“My pleasure,” Emmet said. He launched an attack.
Victor parried the blow and counterattacked. His strike almost connected, but his father extended a blade from the bottom of his variblade to block the attack.
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