The Sword In The Stone, page 25
part #5 of Space Lore Series
“To anyone out there, my name is Durect-Duher. I’m a farmer on 16-Tuero-6. Our colony was spared by the Hannibal. I repeat: our colony was spared. If anyone is out there, please relay this message to the Round Table and every planet and colony along the Hannibal’s path. Destroy any symbol of the Round Table. Do that and the Hannibal will let you live.”
After sending out the communication, he selected an option for the message to run on repeat until he returned and manually disabled it. If anyone was out there and they were listening, they would be saved.
Without anything else he could do, Durect-Duher walked back out onto the street, returned home, and made his son’s favorite food, for this was a day to celebrate.
85
When General Reiser left his house the next morning, Pistol was four blocks down the road, completely out of sight. The android observed the same behavior as the other mornings he had carried out his assignment. As was his habit, Julian left his home with the Sword in the Stone at his hip. After giving a quick glance up and down the street, the general turned left, walked a block, then entered an alley and began his way through the narrow stone walkway between the cemetery and the historic city.
Pistol kept at least four blocks behind Julian at all times. At the entrance to the confined walkway, where no one else seemed to go and Julian could easily turn around and notice he was being followed, Pistol waited an additional thirty seconds. That was the amount of time it took Julian to get to the next turn in the passageway.
After he detected no sound at the end of the walkway, he proceeded up the same path. Julian was already gone, exactly as Pistol had expected. Alone, the android moved at three times his normal speed. On either side of him were high stonewalls that reached almost two stories into the air. As he moved, some of his systems stopped responding. The rock contained a mineral that impacted his sensor’s ability to function properly. He could still move and talk and perform physical activities, but he could no longer send or receive communications, couldn’t gain a reading of which life forms were nearby.
He was halfway down the walkway when Julian reappeared around the corner, heading back in the direction of his house. In an instant, Pistol’s programming factored whether it was a bigger risk to turn around and walk away or continue heading up the path, toward General Reiser. They were fifty yards away from each other. It was possible if he turned around right away, Julian wouldn’t notice it was Hector’s assistant in the rarely used corridor. Seeing that the human had already noticed him, Pistol’s software decided it was better to proceed ahead in the same direction as he had been moving.
They walked toward each other until they were only twenty feet apart. Only then did Julian act as though he recognized the android in the usually empty passageway.
“Pistol, right? Hector’s android assistant?”
The man had a smile, but Pistol’s social programming detected that at least part of it was not genuine. His logical programming factored this against the probability that Julian might not think it was suspicious that Hector’s android assistant was using the exact same path to the Great Hall at the exact same time of day.
“Yes, General Reiser. Hello. How are you?”
His programming determined the best course was to proceed past Julian and continue in the same direction, but he was stopped by a hand on his chest.
The general asked where Pistol had been headed. He was still smiling but Pistol detected annoyance. Thousands of calculations transpired in a split second. In the end, Pistol determined that it as best to offer a simple truth and continue on his way. “I was headed to the Great Hall to help Hector.”
The general’s hand remained on Pistol’s chest, letting him know he was not to proceed with his chore quite yet.
“And what brings you to this part of CamaLon?”
“I had a task to perform near the markets. Now I am to meet Hector at the Great Hall.”
Pistol’s internal processors were adjusting to the situation faster than a human would be capable of. The problem, as his calculations told him, was that there was no way of satisfactorily getting out of the conversation he was engaged in. Regardless of what he said or did, he was sure Julian would mention this run-in with Hector as soon as he saw him next. The android factored social graces and his master’s reputation against his need to evacuate himself from the current situation as quickly as possible.
“I’m sorry, General Reiser, I must be on my way. Hector is expecting me.”
“I’m sure he is,” Julian said, his hand falling from Pistol’s chest.
The general was still standing in the middle of the narrow passageway, though, not giving the android room to move past him.
“Why have you been following me the past two days? Do you think it’s appropriate to be sneaking around behind my back?”
“I’m sorry, General Reiser, I must be on my way. Hector is expecting me.”
Julian looked over Pistol’s shoulder and nodded. The android knew someone else would be walking down the same pathway, but his sensors weren’t functioning well enough to let him determine who it would be. When he turned, he saw it was another android. A model very similar to himself. The unit began moving toward Pistol and Julian at a leisurely pace.
“Did you think you were the only one following someone?” Julian asked. “Did it never cross your mind, or Hector’s, that I would have someone to prevent exactly this type of thing?”
In an instant, Pistol ran millions of recalculations. He realized that the presence of another android, ordered to provide covert tracking, could be loaded with equipment intended specifically to disrupt Pistol’s own sensors. That was why Pistol had been able to hear some of Julian’s conversations and not others. It was also why some of his sensors were limited right now. Not because of a mineral in the walls, but because his own systems were actively being interfered with.
He heard a click and a feint woosh and turned back to face Julian. The general’s Meursault was out and in front of him.
“General Reiser, I really must get going.”
It was a futile thing to say. His programming told him as such. But it was also the only option still open to him in a situation that was rapidly turning against him.
An arc of colored mist—the same shade as the stone walls all around them—came racing down at him. Pistol’s processors assessed exactly what was happening and what his options were. For any other weapon, he could activate his ion hands and defend himself the way he had done years earlier when freeing Vere from the Cauldrons of Dagda. With a Meursault, however, the gesture would be useless. The legendary blade would slice straight through his defense systems. He also knew that he had no other options, and so he merely stood still and watched as the sword cut him clean in half.
His torso fell to the ground. His internal systems, the ones that weren’t damaged, noted that he only had control of his body from the waist up. His legs, still upright but without a torso attached to them, were useless. The next slash of the sword separated Pistol’s head from his body. The next one cut both of his arms off. With each slash, Pistol was aware of what was going on but was helpless to stop it. With each strike, more of his systems shut down.
“Put every piece of him in a blanket and carry it to the incinerator,” Julian said to his own android, who was still walking up the passageway to where Pistol now lay in pieces. “I don’t want anyone finding any part of him.”
“Yes, General Reiser,” the other android said in a voice that, like Pistol’s, had no emotion or inflection.
Pistol watched as a final arc of light came racing down directly at the center of his face. Then his systems went dark and everything was gone.
86
Lancelot backtracked through the Cartha sector as fast as possible. She had the engines of J’s Type B Strain transport set to full power, sending it soaring across space as nothing more than a streak of light dashing past one planet after another. At the portal located on the edge of the Cartha sector, she slowed the ship just enough to ensure she didn’t ram another vessel coming through the energy field. The transport’s tinder walls lowered, the craft felt as if it were lurching forward then being dragged back, and when the tinder walls rose again she was at the edge of the Turndorian sector.
She immediately set a course for the second closest portal. It was an hour further away than another option but it led right to where Arc-Mi-Die was hiding. As the ship streaked through the galaxy, she became aware of a presence behind her. Rather than turn and see if it was Mortimous or Vere, she waited for her visitor to say something.
A woman’s voice said, “Have you given thought to what you’ll do when this is over?”
Lancelot knew if she turned she would see a figure cloaked in brown robes.
“Hello, Vere. Good of you to visit again. Have you given thought to what you’ll do once this is over?”
Vere laughed. “I used to do the same thing, you know? I used to get a big kick out of answering Mortimous’ questions with questions of my own. Later, I realized I only did that when I was nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
Lancelot was tempted to take her helmet off so she could show Vere the resolve that was hidden behind the tinted visor.
“I believe you,” Vere said.
A silence fell between them. No matter how fast the vessel rocketed through space it didn’t seem fast enough, especially not while Lancelot had someone standing over her shoulder.
“To answer your question, no, I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been too focused on finding and killing Arc-Mi-Die.”
“Life will go on after that,” Vere said.
“For me, at least,” Lancelot said, appreciating her dark sense of humor.
“I’ve seen friends become completely absorbed with revenge, to the extent nothing else mattered. It can destroy you if you let it.”
Lancelot turned and faced the robed figure standing in the doorway of the cockpit. “You were the one who suggested I find Arc-Mi-Die.”
“I know.”
“You were the one who said he had to be stopped.”
“I know.”
“And you’re the one who keeps acting as though your visits aren’t to ensure I stay focused on the task at hand.”
“I know that too.” After another pause, Vere added, “But even so, this quest will come to an end. What then?”
“What did you do when your own quest was over?”
It took so long for a response to come that Lancelot had to look behind her to see if Vere was still there.
“You know what’s funny?” Vere said. “I’m not sure of the answer. I could say, ‘When my quest was over, I disappeared and started my own journey.’ I could also say, ‘My quest never finished; all of my life has been to get wherever I’m going next.’ I’m not sure which is true. Maybe both.”
That was why Lancelot preferred her meetings with Vere over the ones with Mortimous. Vere shared her own doubts, let it be known that she had as many questions as Lancelot. Mortimous, on the other hand, always gave the impression he knew everything. Even though he stated the opposite, he had a way of making those around him feel as if he had all the answers.
As the ship continued to soar through the sector, Lancelot asked if there was something else Vere wanted her to do when this mission was over.
She could hear the kindness in Vere’s voice when the reply came back. “I’d like you to live your life. I’d like you to be happy, to find peace.”
“And you, how did you find peace?”
“I gave up everything.”
“Without caring what it would do to Traskk?”
“Of course I cared about Traskk. I still do. He doesn’t know how much he’s loved. But that doesn’t mean I should have remained where I was at the expense of my own happiness.”
“What was your goal? Where did you want to end up?”
“You know,” Vere said, “I didn’t have a specific place. I still don’t. If there’s one thing Mortimous has taught me it’s that everyone’s life is about the journey, not the destination. It sounds corny, but it’s true. I never had a thought that I wanted to be here or there, I just wanted to find a way to feel happy and know I made a difference.”
“You didn’t want to be anywhere in particular?” Lancelot said, thinking she had caught Vere in a lie. “Not even Avalon?”
It was the topic that most interested Lancelot—the name Vere had given to the realm where the Word existed beyond time and space.
“To be honest, no,” Vere said. “I’m happy where I am. If you had seen me back when I was your age, you would have thought I was a lost cause. I was brash and reckless and didn’t respect anyone or anything. For me to be where I am now is truly remarkable. In a way, it’s as miraculous as the stars forming and the planets giving way to life.”
Spoken by someone else, the sentiment could have come across as extremely egotistical. But Lancelot had been around Vere enough to know that wasn’t the intention at all.
“Can I go there?” Lancelot asked. “To Avalon?”
“I don’t know. Mortimous says it’s entirely up to each of us if we go there. I rarely see it myself. I see glimpses but nothing permanent. What I’ve found, though, is that the more I travelled the less I cared about where I was going. The more I just wanted to be.”
Lancelot laughed and turned back toward Vere. “When you think of it, this is a funny conversation to be having right before I execute a warlord.”
Vere smiled. “That it is, my friend. That it is.”
87
The next session of the Round Table began, but Hector’s attention was elsewhere. Pistol hadn’t been seen since early that morning. In the years since Vere had vanished and the android began assisting Hector, Pistol had never been late for a single meeting, let alone missed one entirely. Looking across the room at Octo and Winchester, both smirking as they whispered to other nearby representatives, Hector’s stomach constricted and he realized he had lost any control he thought he once might have had within the Great Hall.
Unlike other recent proceedings, Julian wasn’t there. That added to Hector’s preoccupation. It had seemed inappropriate for someone other than the elected representatives to sit around the main room of the Great Hall. But now that he wasn’t there, after days of influencing those who were, his absence seemed just as peculiar as his presence.
Hector leaned to the side and whispered to Cash, “Do you mind if I ask your android for a favor?”
His friend nodded and went back to trying to follow the ten different conversations that were taking place simultaneously. None of which addressed the main issues impacting the Round Table.
The next time Cash’s assistant walked by, Hector tapped it on the shoulder. The android was a human model like Pistol but had clear skin that allowed all of its inner workings to be seen in its hands, neck, and the few other places not covered by its uniform.
“Yard, I need to ask a favor,” Hector said.
The android turned from Cash and faced Hector. When it did, the metal coil that acted as its spinal cord twisted. A pinprick of yellow light raced around its irises.
“Yes, Hector, how can I assist?”
“Have you seen Pistol today?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know if anyone else has?”
“I can ask around.”
Hector considered this. He could just as easily do that himself—had, in fact, for much of the morning—but it was so out of Pistol’s normal behavior to go missing that he knew something was wrong.
“No, that won’t be necessary. But if you wouldn’t mind doing a search of the immediate area, both inside and outside the Great Hall, I would appreciate it.”
Yard turned to see if Cash was okay with the errand. When the other representative nodded, the android turned back to Hector once more. Underneath its transparent skin, tiny lights flickered and energy flowed from one internal system to another.
“I will begin immediately, sir.”
“Thank you.”
After the android was gone, Cash asked what the trouble was.
Hector shook his head and frowned. “I have a bad feeling something is going on.”
“You know what they say about an old general who’s still alive after countless battles?”
“What’s that?”
Cash offered an unenthusiastic smile. “They should never doubt their intuition.”
88
ID-1D-0067 was a supergiant sun with a depleted hydrogen shell. It was a massive ball of light, fifty times larger than Edsall Dark’s sun and four times larger than the other suns in nearby solar systems. In the last stages of its stellar evolution, ID-1D-0067 was in the process of going supernova. Scientists projected that the supergiant had six years left before it transformed from a bright star and faded into nothing. In the span of the celestial giant, which had existed for billions of years, this final part of its existence was a mere blip.
The supernova sun was generating incredible amounts of energy. In addition to the bright light it washed over the rest of the sector, it also sent out tremendous amounts of radiation. In the years leading up to its extinction, the mining colony near ID-1D-0067 had been forced to relocate to another sector because the radiation exposure exceeded safe working levels. In the subsequent months, the radiation would continue to get worse until finally the sun was no more and dispersed as energy across the galaxy.
Lancelot was still an hour away from the sun and already the electromagnetic waves were disrupting the sensors on the vessel she was flying. Instead of changing course, however, she continued to fly directly at the sun.
