The Sword In The Stone, page 10
part #5 of Space Lore Series
Lancelot approached him and said, “I’m looking for an android by the name of J. Do you know him?”
The Orguantuan turned and looked at Lancelot. Its eyes narrowed and it gave a low growl. Even though Lancelot loomed over it, she guessed that from the looks of the alien it was as strong as her reinforced suit. And because it was lower to the ground, it would have the advantage of leverage to pick her up or knock her off balance. It was for this reason that she kept ten feet away from the creature. Although both sets of her arms were crossed to convey a casual nature, all four hands were ready to grab for a weapon if needed.
“Have you come across an android by that name? It did a deal with a pair of Turgdorians a while back. I’d like to do the same type of work.”
The Orguantuan stomped one giant foot against the ground, then the other. Its fangs barred, it let out a another growl, louder than the first, and slammed its fists against its chest.
A second Orguantuan came out of the nondescript building and stood beside the first. It was a dark tan color and immediately growled and hunched low to the ground. A third and fourth of the same aliens did the same thing.
Lancelot took a step backward. In all of her years of engaging in combat she had never retreated as much as an inch. A fifth and sixth Orguantuan streamed out of the building, each starring at Lancelot and slamming their enormous fists against their chests. Knowing it was the smart thing to do, she took a second step backward.
The initial Orguantuan began toward her. Upon seeing two swirls of vapor flash in the air, it paused. At first, neither the alien nor its buddies behind it knew what to make of the colored mist that evaporated after a few moments. Then Lancelot turned the handles of the Meursaults so the flat side of the blade came into view. Many of the nearby aliens and humans saw the blades and gasped. Then, seeing they were pointed at the beastly Orguantuans, these same people darted for the nearest hiding spot until the chaos was over.
The lead Orguantuan began toward her again. The other five followed.
Lancelot withdrew both vibro lances, ignited them, and pointed them straight ahead, letting the aliens know they shouldn’t get any closer. One of the Orguantuans slammed his fists against the ground hard enough that Lancelot felt the pavement shake. When it stood upright the next time, it had a large chunk of the street in its hands, which it hurled at Lancelot.
The slab, easily weighing a couple hundred pounds, flew at Lancelot’s chest. She brought both Meursaults down in an X and sliced it into four pieces that caused her no problem when they hit the armor around her legs. Another boulder flew past her head. The next one she jabbed with the tip of a vibro lance to change its trajectory away from her. Instead of smashing into the face plate of her helmet, it glanced to the side and crashed into an android that had its attention focused elsewhere.
She continued to back away until she was off the sidewalk and in the middle of the street. The Orguantuans continued to stomp the ground and toss large chunks of rock and pavement in her direction. Rather than continue after her, however, they growled and pounded their chests once she was no longer near the entrance of their building. A minute later, with Lancelot still backing away, the Orguantuans quieted down and began to make their way back into their building.
“Friend, you gonna get yourself much trouble you keep acting that way,” a voice, fluid and accented, said from behind her.
Lancelot turned and saw an alien in full combat armor. He was slightly shorter and skinnier than a human. Only with all of the armor on did he look like he could pass for being an adult. Tendrals, like long strands of braided hair, hung from his arms and legs through the few open slats of his polished orange and tan armor.
“Oh yeah? What way is that?” Lancelot said, all four weapons still withdrawn and ready to use.
The alien made no movement to activate a weapon of his own. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and shrugged as if Lancelot posed no risk to him at all.
“Like you not from round here. Like you don’t belong here.”
The alien’s overly relaxed body language made Lancelot analyze each part of his armor and his surroundings for something that could give him a false sense of confidence. She saw no blasters, cannons, or handles to withdraw and yet the alien was at ease in the face of a much larger person that was holding four extremely lethal weapons.
Even though the tinted lens of her helmet prevented the alien from seeing her eyes, he seemed to guess what she was thinking.
“Size not everything,” he said with a smile. “Neither is big lance or rare sword.” She was going to ask what could matter more than proper weapons, but he added, “My name is J’onne Marks. People call me the gentlemanly bounty hunter.”
Without intending to, Lancelot let a laugh slip out. “The gentlemanly bounty hunter? Serious?”
“Of course,” Marks said and bowed. “Do you mind if I make observations, from one bounty to another?”
“I’m not a bounty hunter.”
She couldn’t see Marks’ face through his helmet but she could tell from the way his head bobbed that he was amused.
“Okay, whatever you say...”
“Lancelot.”
“Okay, whatever you say, Lancelot. Observation number one: you not from round here.”
“Very astute ob—”
“Observation two: Your actions and the way you conduct yourself reveal to everyone that you not from round here. Observation three: Every time you go round asking people who know you not from round here if they seen someone, they know it not for anything good. Observation four—”
“Can we cut this short? I’m sure you’re going to make some very good points, but I also want to find this android before another decade passes.”
The gentlemanly bounty hunter cocked his head to one side and scoffed. He followed this by tapping the toes of a boot against the ground and shaking his head.
“For a bounty hunter,” Lancelot said, “You’re very sensitive.”
She deactivated her vibro lances and put the handles back in their slips. The pair of Meursaults were still in her other two hands but she kept them down by her sides.
“If I couldn’t tell you from here, I would know now,” the bounty hunter said. “If you from here you would know who captured Drajou the Merciless and who killed the gangster Mamoth.”
Lancelot looked around for any sign of an android that might be J, then turned back to J’onne and said, “You?”
“Yes!”
“The gentlemanly bounty hunter?”
“Yes!”
Lancelot shrugged. “Okay.”
The bounty hunter shook his head. “You know, I felt bad for you because those Orguantuans gonna tear you to shreds and you seem hopelessly clueless.”
“First, those things would have gotten sliced apart and impaled.” She brought the blades of her Meursaults back up and turned the blade sideways so they would be visible to the alien. “And second, it’s not easy finding someone when you don’t know where they are or who exactly you’re looking for.”
J’onne held his palms out as if fending away invisible enemies. “Oh, not easy. Oh, I can’t find who I’m looking for.” His voice changed from mockery to disdain when he added, “I’ll have you know, in all time I’ve collected bounties I never once asked where my target be.”
“How else is a gentlemanly bounty hunter supposed to find someone?”
She couldn’t help saying it but she cringed afterward because J’onne was trying to help and she knew it would hurt his feelings. Somewhere, if Mortimous or the woman in the brown cloak were watching, she was sure they were sighing at Lancelot’s continued lack of patience.
The chest plate of Marks’ armor rose as he took in a deep breath. He was silent for a while and Lancelot guessed he had to calm himself or else he might throw a tantrum.
When he did speak he said, “Use your eyes. Use your ears. Not tough.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and began to walk away. A moment later he paused and said, “Two streets down. A bar named ThatAm. The android you look for been there before.”
Then he turned and continued away without waiting to be thanked. Lancelot sighed and began down the street in the direction she had originally been heading. One of the Orguantuans was still out on the curb. It growled in her direction and thrummed both fists against its chest. Rather than have the same encounter unfold a second time, she crossed the street and made her way toward the bar.
32
It was easy to forget about Pistol. He stood against the back wall during every Round Table session, ready to act when Hector needed him, yet he rarely spoke. He was also nearby when Hector conversed with Cimber and Cash in private, but he always made sure to give them space. Because Hector was the only person who would have a request of the android, and because all the other representatives had helper androids of their own, no one took notice of him. Yet he was always there.
His programming allowed him to understand enough about human nature and about Hector’s psyche to figure out why Cash sometimes became dismayed and why Cimber sometimes had outbursts that he would apologize for moments later. In the same fashion, he had been witness to Vere’s, Fastolf’s, and Morgan’s quirks years earlier. Part of his programming relied on being able to predict their behaviors. So too did he understand how Hector’s moody introversion and stubborn hopes would get under the skin of those who held him to impossibly high standards.
As he watched the current Round Table session, he saw a new face in attendance. General Reiser. The hero of the Cartha campaign was standing behind the spot where Octo and Winchester were sitting. On the general’s hip was the Meursault that Pistol had once witnessed Vere give to Morgan.
Diagonally in front of where Pistol stood, to Hector’s right, Cash and Cimber stared at the men on the other side of the Round Table. Both men had facial patterns that Pistol recognized as irritation and disgust. Hector’s hand covered his mouth, a mannerism that Pistol had learned to interpret as forced calm.
Across from them, Octo smiled as he scanned the entire room. Half way through the morning session, he said, “It has become clear that the Round Table, as it was originally conceived, needs adjustment. Specifically, it needs someone who can lead others, someone who is experienced in bringing people together.”
Cash groaned. Cimber dug his fingernails into his arm. But there were also murmurs of approval from half the room.
Winchester smiled and said, “There is no one better suited for the role than the man who just brought more of the galaxy together during his most recent campaign.” The murmurs grew louder. “The people here and abroad adore him. Everyone in this room trusts him.”
In a low whisper, soft enough that only Cash would be able to hear—or an android with precise microphones—Pistol heard Cimber say, “Not everyone. Not by a long shot.”
All around the table, other representatives were also whispering with excitement, some hopeful, others flabbergasted by the proposal.
A voice rose above the whispers. “Let us take a break,” Hector said. “Before we say or do something foolhardy.”
Hector remained staring at Julian on the other side of the room. No one spoke or moved until Julian acknowledged what had been said and offered a smile. Only then did Hector’s energy disk swivel so he faced the door. Without another word, he leaned forward so the transport carried him out of the large chamber.
Pistol followed, adjusting the pace of his steps to fall in line just behind Hector.
“Is there anything I can assist with?”
“No, thank you, Pistol.” Hector travelled a few more feet down the corridor before coming to a stop. “Actually, there is. Keep your eyes on General Reiser. If he does anything other than excuse himself and come to join me out in the hallway, send me an alert. If he goes off with Octo and Winchester, follow them and tell me where they went.”
The android nodded, then stepped to the side as other representatives filed past him. Cash and Cimber approached, stopping beside their friend, neither of them acknowledged the android who was only two feet away.
“What are you going to do?” Cash asked.
Cimber kept biting his lower lip and digging his fingernails into his palms. “This cannot happen. We need to do something.”
“I’m going to take care of it,” Hector said.
“If this doesn’t—”
Hector’s chest expanded as he took in an enormous amount of air. His chin rose and his jaw flexed. He dwarfed the men in front of him. “I said, I’m taking care of it.”
Pistol, by Leila ElManfaa, digital art
33
Hector’s energy disk carried him in small circles as he waited for Julian outside the Great Hall, the hovering equivalent of pacing back and forth. His thoughts were divided between two memories, the conversation with Julian from earlier that morning and also Julian’s face from only moments earlier as Octo and Winchester had tried to install him as the leader of the Round Table. His friend hadn’t looked like he was going to turn the offer down. Rather, Julian had the satisfied look of someone who was ready to step into the role they thought he deserved.
“You wanted to talk?”
Hector turned to see a smiling Julian approach. It amazed Hector that his friend could be in good spirits as everything they had fought for was close to ruin. He closed his eyes for a second, just long enough to collect himself.
When they reopened, he said, “This has to stop, Julian.”
Julian smiled again, the same carefree expression he had flashed when they were both cadets and everything had come so naturally to the two of them.
“I understand your concerns. I really do. It won’t be like what you’re envisioning. I don’t want to be an emperor or any nonsense like that. I want the Round Table to work as much as you. I just know it has to be altered slightly in order for that to happen.”
Hector looked back in the direction of the Great Hall. In the open doorway, filing out of the building to get fresh air, he saw humans and aliens, some laughing, others bickering.
“When I went into the blood tunnels, I did so because I believed it was the end of war.”
“It can be,” Julian said softly.
Hector shook his head. “It won’t be if we alter the vision Vere had. I believe that with every ounce of my being.”
Julian’s smile faded. “Hector, you’re in all of those sessions with Octo and the others. It’s not working.”
“The solution isn’t to create another ruler.”
“I don’t want to be a ruler. I just want to help. I already told you that.”
“You really want to help?”
“Of course.”
Hector sighed and put a hand on one of Julian’s shoulders. “Than take my seat at the Round Table.”
“I can’t do that. I’m—”
Hector waved the words away. “I’m tired, Julian. I’m not capable of making the difference I thought I could. I’m sure the people would love to have you in my place.”
“What will you do?”
Hector offered a sad smile. “I’ll live the rest of my life in peace and quiet. I’ll get to finally enjoy the silence. Be a better husband.” The smile grew just a little bit bigger. “Portia will be grateful to you if you do this for me.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. That way you can still try to make things better, but the way Vere intended.”
Hector and Julian both turned to look at the assortment of humans and aliens visible in the doorway. A collection of helper androids filtered out of the Great Hall to await their next instructions. All of the potential in the galaxy was through those doors, but also all of the painful realities.
Julian nodded. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
34
Octo and Winchester were shoulder to shoulder. The pair of representatives passed through a set of corridors that led to an exit on the far side of the Great Hall. Cimber saw them first and started to rush ahead but Cash took hold of his friend’s arm.
“Let me do the talking.”
Cimber didn’t acknowledge the request, gave no indication that he would heed it.
They were only three steps behind the other pair when Cash swore he overheard Octo whisper to Winchester, “He’ll accept. He just needs the right persuasion.”
Cash held his breath, turned to motion for Cimber to be absolutely quiet so he could hear Winchester’s response. It was too late, though.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing,” Cimber said, his voice raised. “Whatever it is, we won’t stand for it.”
Octo and Winchester both stopped and turned. Cimber was close enough to both men to reach out and strangle them.
Winchester gave a half-hearted laugh. “Cash, Cimber, what seems to be the issue?”
Cash lowered his voice to try and make up for Cimber’s outburst. “General Reiser cannot be installed to lead the Round Table. It’s the opposite of what the Round Table was intended to be.”
Octo cocked his head to one side. His bushy eyebrows scrunched into one large mass of hair. “Install General Reiser? I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”
“Listen, you,” Cimber growled, grabbing Octo by both lapels. “Wipe that smug grin off your face or I’ll wipe it off for you.”
“Cimber,” Cash said, grabbing his friend by the shoulder.
Cimber wouldn’t move, though. His hands remained fixed, holding Octo in place.
Winchester stepped forward. “You’ll release him right this moment.”
“And if I don’t?” Cimber said. “Are you going to do something about it?”
“Cimber, stop.”
The only way Cash could quell the situation was by forcing himself in between the two representatives. Cimber finally let go and Octo shook his head and straightened his jacket.
