The Excalibur (Space Lore Book 2)

by Chris Dietzel

  Neither Vere nor Morgan had ever seen a Fianna in person, but they had heard stories about them. Every Vonnegan ruler kept a contingent of exactly nine Fianna guards. All nine protected the ruler at all times. They didn’t take shifts or alternate assignments. This was what first started the rumors that the Fianna weren’t living beings at all but were actually advanced tactical androids. Behind a shell of robes and armor, no one knew for sure what they were, other than the Vonnegan rulers and their closest advisors.

  It was also whispered that the Fianna didn’t serve as royal protectors for a set period of time. An assignment in the Fianna was said to be for life. Of course, because no one knew if the Fianna were Vonnegans or androids, they also didn’t know if it was the same person or thing behind each set of armor for a hundred years or if it was a new guard periodically.

  Not only that, but the belief that there were only nine Fianna could have also been a myth. How would anyone know if there were in fact two or three times as many guards, performing their duties in shifts so the others could get some sleep? They all looked exactly alike. They never spoke. They had no names. So it didn’t matter how many existed. All that mattered was that the Vonnegan ruler was always seen with exactly nine of them when he wasn’t in his chambers or aboard his Athens Destroyer.

  One of the few stories Vere knew about them that was definitely true was one in which nine Fianna guards had single-handedly quelled an uprising. Three generations earlier, Mowbray’s great-great-grandfather, Munburn the Immune, issued an unpopular set of edicts. Instead of trying to put his people’s concerns to rest, he stoked the unrest and provoked an attempted revolution. Tens of thousands of people rallied at the Vonnegan capital before flooding through the kingdom gates to hold Munburn accountable. Without the help of any other Vonnegan forces, the nine Fianna guards ensured that not a single one of the insurgents who passed through the empire’s gate lived to tell about it. At the end of the short-lived uprising, thousands of bodies lay on the ground, missing their heads or with their stomachs carved open. Hundreds of gallons of blood flooded the ground level of the Vonnegan capital that day, but not a single drop of it belonged to the nine Fianna, who were all unharmed.

  As Vere watched from the slightly open flap of the tent, the first two Fianna stood at the bottom of the shuttle’s ramp, surveying the desert and the tent and the few random ships still parked around where the command center had been. Then two more Fianna walked down the ramp, their steps in perfect stride with one another. At the bottom, the four guards aligned themselves in a curved row, blocking anything, even a sniper’s precision blaster shot, from passing by them and hitting someone further up the ramp.

  The Fianna’s armor lacked anything that wasn’t necessary in defending their ruler. As far as Vere could tell, they had no oxygen reserves in case they were stranded outside of a livable containment field. They carried no food rations or water for themselves. Other than their primary weapon, a vibro halberd, they carried nothing at all.

  Each plate of their purple armor met as closely as possible with the next. There was exactitude with the armor that hinted the suits must have been tailor-made for each guard rather than coming off an assembly line like the suits of armor that common infantrymen and soldiers wore. The finely made armor allowed the Fianna to move freely, without any armor plates hitting each other, but also without any gap for a blade or blaster shot to get through the protective suit. The few places where there were chinks between plates—elbows, shoulders, knees—purple fabric puffed out, obscuring the crevices so attackers would be unsure where exactly they were susceptible. Fianna helmets wrapped around each side of the head to cover every part of their face and neck. But the faceplate wasn’t smooth metal or tinted glass. Instead, it was fashioned in the shape of an angry demon, with teeth bared, nostrils flared, and with thick, arched eyebrows, giving each guard the appearance of being possessed by neverending rage even when he was standing perfectly still.

  A fifth guard came down the ramp and walked past the first four. Instead of stopping at the bottom of the ramp, this guard continued toward the command tent. Vere took a deep breath as she watched the Fianna approach. When the guard was halfway to where she and Morgan and Traskk were hidden, Mowbray appeared at the top of the shuttle’s ramp.

  “Don’t do anything unless I give the order,” Vere said to her friends.

  Neither of them liked the order. Morgan scoffed and shook her head. Traskk demonstrated his frustration by growling and allowing his tail to sweep back and forth across the ground.

  The lone Fianna continued making his way across the desert. The remaining four Fianna came down the ramp to join the other four already there, forming a circle around Mowbray so that he was completely enclosed by his guards.

  “Okay, here goes nothing,” Vere said, stepping out into the sun.

  The solitary Fianna, roughly twenty yards from the tent, stopped in place. Morgan and Traskk also revealed themselves. The Fianna didn’t flinch or seem concerned. He made no effort to raise or aim his weapon or even take a defensive posture. He merely stopped where he was, never turning his attention from the three people in front of him.

  To her side, Vere saw Scrope and Pistol approach from the Llyushin transport that had landed. When they were halfway to the tent, Mowbray also began forward. Two guards remained in front of him, with another two behind and on either side, each moving in unison. Not even the best sniper, if Vere had been using one, would have been able to get a clean laser blast directly at Mowbray, no matter where the expert was hidden on the moon’s surface.

  The two parties crossed the desert at the same pace. While they did, the lone Fianna guard remained only twenty yards away from Vere. She wondered if she could bring out her Meursault blade quickly enough to kill the guard. More likely, no matter how fast she moved, the guard would be able to move away and defend himself until the other eight arrived and cut her down. She guessed Morgan was making the same calculation and coming to similar conclusions.

  Each Fianna carried an identical vibro halberd. The staff was as tall as the figure holding it. At its end was a blade as long as a man’s arm, with an axe in front and, in the back, a pair of small spikes. Where the blade met the staff, a small ion cylinder protruded from the side. This gave the Fianna the choice to slash someone if they were close enough, as Vere soon would be, or blast them if they were out of reach.

  Everyone—Pistol and Scrope, Mowbray and his guards—reached the command tent where Vere and the others were at the same time. Pistol and Scrope stood slightly behind and to the side of Vere. The Fianna remained encircled around their ruler.

  “Mowbray,” Vere said.

  “Vere CasterLan,” the Vonnegan ruler replied, smiling.

  She didn’t like his confident demeanor, but she understood it. As far as he knew, he outnumbered her three ships to one. She was looking forward to seeing his smug grin disappear when he realized the numbers were much more even than he suspected.

  “This isn’t necessary,” she said, waving a hand at the two fleets above the moon. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m afraid it is necessary,” Mowbray answered, standing nearly as tall as Traskk. “You killed my son.”

  Morgan gave a sad shrug and took a step forward. “He was invading our kingdom.” Her grip tightened on the handle of her own Meursault blade.

  The Fianna in front of Vere turned his head slightly so that the demon imprint on his helmet faced Morgan.

  “Stare at me all you want,” Morgan said to the guard in a taunt. “I’d make short work of you.”

  “Quiet,” Vere said, not taking her eyes off Mowbray.

  But Morgan’s outburst only made the Vonnegan ruler laugh. None of his guards moved an inch.

  “She does have a point,” Vere said to the Vonnegan ruler. “If I came to your planet and tried to take over your kingdom, you would be well within your right to defend yourself. If you didn’t want your son to die, you shouldn’t have sent him to bat
tle.”

  Mowbray’s eyes narrowed. A drop of sweat got in Vere’s eye and she wiped it away. Sweat poured down her face due to the hot desert sun, and yet Mowbray didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable.

  She thought he was going to tell her that she could have taken Minot prisoner. Or maybe that he had only sent his fleet to Edsall Dark after Vere’s father had ordered a ship full of innocent crew members to be destroyed inside Vonnegan space.

  Instead, he said, “Let’s go for a walk, Vere CasterLan. Just the two of us, shall we?”

  Morgan put a hand out to Vere’s arm and said, “Don’t—”

  Traskk growled.

  Vere raised a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll be okay.” Then, with a palm open to the wide expanse of desert in front of them, said to Mowbray, “After you.”

  The Fianna opened their circle. Mowbray stepped to the side, away from his protection, and they began to walk. Mowbray seemed unconcerned by what might happen back at the tent. When Vere looked over her shoulder, she saw Traskk and Morgan standing only ten feet from the Fianna, who were all motionless like purple plated statues.

  They walked to the top of the nearest sand dune before either of them spoke.

  It was Vere who said, “Now that we’re away from your guards, aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you?”

  She tapped the handle of her Meursault blade to let him know she could do so if she wanted.

  Mowbray smiled. “You can kill me if you want, Vere CasterLan. However, my guards will kill you and all of your companions immediately. And General Vion,”—Mowbray’s eyes pointed toward one of the Commander Class Athens Destroyers—“has orders to kill every single person aboard each of your ships if I don’t return safely. He will then, of course, head to Edsall Dark and kill everyone there as well.”

  “And if you do return safely?”

  His smile grew larger. “Then I’ll take as many prisoners as we can accommodate. After all, we’re going to need someone to keep Edsall Dark running after we conquer it.”

  “Mowbray, we can still stop this battle before it starts.”

  Mowbray shook his head. The slight smile he offered didn’t have a hint of happiness, only regret.

  “But we can’t,” he said. “Someone has to pay for what happened to my son.” He waited for Vere to offer the same rebuttal as before, but she only opened her mouth, then closed it again. He continued, “And I need the rest of the galaxy to understand what happens when a Vonnegan is murdered. Yes, I suppose I’ll become the new ruler of Edsall Dark and of the rest of your kingdom after I destroy your forces, but that’s not what interests me the most. What brings me here, what drives me to produce one Athens Destroyer after another, is the desire to show every other ruler around the galaxy that they are king in name only. I am the one true ruler of the galaxy. They just don’t understand that yet. They will, though.”

  “You sound like a madman.”

  He smiled. “Geniuses often sound delusional to those who don’t share their vision.”

  “This was never about your son?”

  He looked surprised. “Of course it was. Who do you think was going to be the new ruler on Edsall Dark? Who do you think was going to one day continue my legacy?” He shook his head. “Now, I have to go with someone I don’t even like.”

  She was going to ask what he meant by that, but then a thought entered her mind.

  “What would it take for you to turn around, with no shots fired?”

  Mowbray squinted for a moment as he gave thought to the question.

  “As much as I want to demonstrate to the rest of the galaxy what happens when you go against the Vonnegan empire, there is one offer I wouldn’t be able to refuse.”

  “Name it.”

  “Tell your generals to power down their ships. Turn your entire fleet over to me. And you become my prisoner.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Mowbray, that won’t happen in a thousand years.”

  “Oh well,” he said with a shrug. “Your loss.”

  She turned to him and asked, “If your life could be described in one word, what would it be?”

  As much as he didn’t want to betray any confusion or uncertainty, he couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows in astonishment at the question posed to him as the two fleets faced each other.

  Laughing, he said, “What an odd time to be reflective, Vere CasterLan, seeing as how your fleet will be destroyed today.”

  Ignoring his bravado, she said, “A friend of mine used to be fond of asking me that question. I’ve been thinking a lot recently of how I might be remembered.” She nodded at him and added, “And how you’ll be remembered as well.”

  He chuckled in amusement at this notion.

  “Mowbray the Rancorous?” he said, then shrugged. “I kind of like the sound of that. Mowbray the Subjugator?” He clapped. “Yes, that is what it will be.”

  “The thing is, Mowbray, you don’t control how you will be remembered. What if—”

  They both heard a sound to their side and turned to see what it was. One of the Llyushin transports that had been there ever since Vere had arrived on the moon was lowering its ramp. Vere wondered what kind of trick Morgan was pulling and made a mental note to appoint someone else to command the military if she couldn’t trust Morgan. This wasn’t the time or place to pull a stunt.

  But then she saw the lone figure descending from the ramp and her heart sank.

  Fastolf.

  “Vere, I’ll save you,” he called out as he stumbled down the ramp, his trusty flask in one hand.

  His words were so slurred that she barely understood him. He wobbled back and forth, zigging and zagging down to the desert ground.

  “I’ll show you who you can trust,” he bellowed.

  Cringing, she looked out of the corner of her eye to see Mowbray’s reaction. The Vonnegan ruler had never seen or heard of Fastolf before but he immediately understood the drunk for the threat he was, which was no threat at all. Even when Fastolf pulled out a blaster from the holster at his hip and aimed it in Vere’s and Mowbray’s direction, the Vonnegan ruler didn’t stop smiling. Not even the Fianna, sworn to protect their ruler, did anything to stop the stumbling man.

  “Fastolf, stop,” she yelled, but he kept coming forward.

  Her old friend pulled the trigger and a laser blast flew wildly, missing both of them by the length of a starship.

  “This is the company you keep?” Mowbray said, laughing.

  “I’ll save you, Vere,” Fastolf called again. “I’m sorry for screwing everything up.”

  Having difficulty with the sand, Fastolf almost fell onto his face each time he took a step. When he was standing up again, he pulled the trigger once more. Another laser blast went toward them. This one came closer to hitting Vere than it did Mowbray.

  “Fastolf, stop!”

  She began to put the pieces together in her head. The ship had been there since before she had arrived and it had never moved. Fastolf must have come here in the midst of the hustle and bustle of preparing for war. With so much going on, no one had paid attention to yet another Llyushin transport on the moon’s surface. There, he had waited until the opportunity arose to show her how much of a friend he was...

  “All I ever wanted was for us to be happy,” he said, almost falling again.

  He was crying now. Another laser blast went past them. This one came much closer to hitting Mowbray than it did Vere.

  “Fastolf, stop!”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blades of all nine of the Fianna’s halberds begin to glow.

  Her old friend continued forward, struggling to keep his footing.

  “Fastolf, get back on board your ship. I’ll talk to you when this is over. Please.”

  He raised the weapon again. Before he could pull the trigger, one of the nine Fianna had aimed his halberd. From the cylinder where the blade met the grip, a single laser blast flew across the sky and hit Fastolf in the hand.

  He dropped his w
eapon and fell to the ground. It took him a while to get back to two knees. Watching in horror, Vere saw that he didn’t seem to understand where his blaster had gone. Or, for that matter, his hand. His other hand still held the flask, though, and from it he took another sip.

  “Vere, I—”

  The next laser blast passed straight through his neck, and he fell sideways onto the sand.

  “Fastolf!”

  She thought about pulling out her sword and removing Mowbray’s head from his neck. Then she remembered the orders he had given his general. She didn’t care about her own life, but she couldn’t allow all of her people to needlessly suffer the same fate.

  She thought about running to Fastolf’s side. But she knew there was nothing she could do for him after a blaster shot directly through the neck. No amount of the best medical attention could save him.

  “Vere,” he somehow managed to gurgle. His voice didn’t sound anything like it had. It barely sounded human.

  Mowbray turned to her and said, “He’s already dead. Give him a moment and he’ll realize it for himself.”

  Fastolf reached his good hand out to her even though she was impossibly far away. As he did, liquid sloshed out of the flask.

  “Vere… Vere…”

  She stood there, beside Mowbray, not knowing what she should do. Then Fastolf’s hand fell to the ground in front of him. His head sagged. His entire body gave out and he crumbled to the ground, perfectly still.

  “See?” Mowbray said. “Now, where were we?”

  Vere closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the Fastolf that had made her laugh so often back on Eastcheap. The friend who had taught her how to steal. The buddy that had distracted her from all the worries she had been fleeing. Then she opened her eyes and looked at Mowbray. Her jaw twitched. Her knuckles were white where she made a fist around the grip of her sword.

  “Call off your ships, Mowbray. I’m giving you one chance. Give the order to return home before it’s too late.” She stared into Mowbray’s oblong pupils. “Do it now, before I destroy you and every single one of your ships.”