The Sword In The Stone, page 26
part #5 of Space Lore Series
J had held the secret to why no one could find Arc-Mi-Die. It wasn’t because he was moving from site to site. It was because he was hiding in a place no one would ever look. He wasn’t in a vessel out in the middle of space or underground on some remote moon. He was hiding inside the fiery ball that was a dying sun.
It turned out the scientists that Arc-Mi-Die had been kidnapping had never been intended as bargaining chips or for ransoms. They had helped the warlord find a way to stay safe within the inner layers of the intense heat.
There was a slight chance that the information she had was faulty. Arc-Mi-Die, proving his penchant for not trusting anyone or anything, could have had a program installed in J’s memory that gave false coordinates. Whoever deciphered the fake information and was foolhardy enough to fly straight into a sun would perish. It was also possible the Dauphin had betrayed her and sent her on a false chase. If either occurred, she would fly into the middle of the blazing fire expecting to find Arc-Mi-Die and instead would succumb to the intense radiation and heat.
While that certainly was possible, she doubted it would actually happen. After all, the criminal had to be somewhere. This was the only place she could think of that would explain why no one else had been able to find Arc-Mi-Die. It also further demonstrated just how insane the warlord was.
And anyway, the supporting information that the Dauphin had obtained from J’s memory banks gave credibility to the idea. At a set of exact coordinates near ID-1D-0067, she was to transmit a specific eighteen digit sequence into the sun. After that, she was to wait one minute, then begin flying at a cruising speed into a particular quadrant of the supernova. At that point, according to J’s own experiences, a transport would arrive and provide an encapsulating field of protection as it escorted her further into the sun. It was unlike any technology she had heard of before, and she had no idea how it worked. Regardless, sixty seconds after transmitting the code, she set the ship to head directly into the giant storm of fire and gas and hoped she made contact before her ship burned up.
Supernova Sun, used with permission of NASA, photograph
89
When M arrived back inside Arc-Mi-Die’s private chamber, every muscle in the warlord’s four arms and four legs became tense. He hadn’t called for the android and made a mental note to find and fix whatever part of M’s programming was causing it to disturb him without having been summoned.
After the guards patted him down, M proceeded to the edge of the Treagon barrier that protected Arc-Mi-Die.
“Master, J’s transport is approaching.”
Every sarcastic comment that Arc-Mi-Die had ready on his pair of lips immediately disappeared.
“What took it so long?”
“Undetermined, master. The only communication we have received was the eighteen digit security key. J is still following the protocol of otherwise maintaining comms silence.”
Arc-Mi-Die’s eyes narrowed into black slits. “It’s the exact same vessel? Not just the same make and model?”
On the slim chance someone stumbled upon J and saw what type of ship the android was flying, their first tactic might be to find another Type B Strain transport and try to trick the warlord.
“Yes, master. It has the same unique code installed into its sensors as well as the same tracking number.”
Arc-Mi-Die let out a long breath as he assessed his options. It went against all of J’s programming to miss sending scheduled updates. It was also outside its parameters to go dark for days without checking in. And yet the approaching vessel was the same ship and the pilot had sent the correct code. The only way to get that code would have been to get inside J’s head and the android was programmed to detonate upon any indication that it was in jeopardy. Anything other than the precise eighteen digit code would result in the vessel’s self-destruct activating. Even if seventeen of the eighteen digits were correct on the first attempt, the ship would explode. It sounded overly cautious except for the fact that androids weren’t capable of making typos.
For a while, Arc-Mi-Die stared at the metal panels that surrounded him. Millions of miles away, people had to use tinted lenses to keep from going blind when they looked at ID-1D-0067. Within the actual shell of the sun, where nothing was supposed to be able to survive, only the armored shell the scientists had created kept him alive.
“What should I do, master?”
Arc-Mi-Die snapped back into the present. “Let J in. But send a notice to all security located on the base. I want every single guard with a weapon stationed on the landing deck in case there are any problems.”
“Yes, master.”
90
Even as the transport’s alarms began to sound, Lancelot continued to fly toward the supernova sun. One warning indicated that her current flight path would lead to certain death in approximately two minutes and ten seconds. Another let her know her shields would be able to tolerate the intense heat for another minute but would not be able to protect from the radiation. A third chime noted that even with the automatic solar slide over the viewports to protect the pilot’s eyesight, she would go blind in another fifty seconds unless she had a secondary means of protection.
Concerning this final alarm, at least, she was safe. The ship’s systems had no way of knowing that her Carthagen helmet was a better bulwark from the intense light than the vessel she was flying. The cockpit viewport was set to its lowest possible lumen level. In normal space, she wouldn’t be able to see a single thing because the planets and stars would be hidden behind the tinted viewport. With ID-1D-0067 directly in front of her, however, not even that setting could block out the intense light. Only with her helmet’s settings did she manage to keep from going blind.
The other two alarms were more concerning, and she was forced to admit her circumstances were not favorable. Unless something happened and it happened soon. She had entered the security code exactly as it had appeared. She had followed the course she was supposed to take. Yet nothing was in front of her except a ball of fire so vast it encompassed the entire viewport. Doubts raced through her mind. Arc-Mi-Die had tricked her. The Dauphin had betrayed her. The three alarms continued to sound in the cockpit, over and over.
The enormity of the object in front of her was astounding and contributed to the angst coming over her. It was thousands of times larger than the biggest asteroid in the Orleans. It was so big in fact that she could collect the entire asteroid field and it would still only be a fraction of the size of ID-1D-0067. It might very well have been possible to take every object in the Cartha sector—the asteroids, the planets, even the sun—and it still wouldn’t be the size of ID-1D-0067.
The alarms beeped again. In one minute and forty seconds, her current flight path would result in her death.
A moment later, a signal popped up on the display to her left. A ship was approaching. She knew from J’s memory banks what was going to happen next, she just didn’t know how it would happen. The advancing vessel would somehow lead her toward the center of the sun without either of them melting or bursting into flames.
At first, she wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing. The flames and ruptures of solar flares made everything a blur of energy. As the object approached, she began to understand what it was and her fingers relaxed. The vessel was another transport, the same size and a similar type as the one she was in, but it was enveloped in a containment field like the ones that protected colonies from the harsh environments of the galaxy. Somehow, the scientists Arc-Mi-Die had kidnapped had managed to create a moveable barrier field that was superior in protecting ships to any traditional shield system.
She waited for the transport to turn one hundred and eighty degrees, then moved beside it, close enough that her ship also entered the protective shell. Immediately, one of the alarms inside the cockpit went quiet.
In front of her, all she could see was a massive ball of fire and gas swirling with such intensity that they were indistinguishable. An endless series of explosions fed off the cosmic chain reaction that would only last for another six years. If at any time the transport beside her swerved away or disengaged the containment field that was surrounding both of them, every part of Lancelot and the ship she was piloting would be instantly incinerated.
One of the sensors told her she had passed through the first three layers of the sun. If she could turn and look out the back of the vessel she would no longer see the black emptiness of space, she would only see more swirling fire.
It took five minutes of flying beside the other transport for Arc-Mi-Die’s base to come into view. She knew it was going to be there and yet she still let out a gasp at the sight of what lay in front of her.
More than a dozen Excalibur vessels were collected in a tightknit formation beside a King-Class Battlecruiser, a trio of armored frigates, and a collection of smaller attack vessels. Three different egg-shaped containment fields, giant versions of the thing protecting her own ship as she travelled further into the sun, were dispersed side by side and arranged end to end. Within those three oblong containment fields lay the warlord and his arsenal of terror.
She had found Arc-Mi-Die’s hiding spot. She had done what no one else had been able to do. Now, the warlord was going to pay for her father’s death and for all of the misery he had brought upon the galaxy.
A beep on one of the displays let her know the escort ship was changing courses slightly. She matched its trajectory and headed for a hangar on the near side of the Battlecruiser.
Both crafts entered the enormous cavern of the flagship’s bay, then landed amongst other transports and shuttles that the warlord had accrued over years of killing rival gangsters and criminals.
On the landing platform of the Battlecruiser, she waited and assessed what she should do next. The ramp of the other transport lowered to reveal an android pilot who walked down the ramp, toward a side corridor. As the hangar door once again slid shut, it took a moment for Lancelot’s eyes to go from seeing drowned out light and a dimly lit hangar full of shadows to what was actually there. Second by second, she saw more forms and shapes in the room.
It wasn’t good.
All around her ship were aliens of various shapes and sizes, all with weapons, all waiting for the ramp to lower. One of them was an alien with six limbs and glistening skin who was standing behind the turret of a heavy blaster. The blaster was pointed at the side of her ship at the spot where she would disembark. Clockwise from there, a tripod was located thirty degrees further, a cannon mounted atop it. What looked to be a human—Vonnegan hybrid stood with his hands at the controls. A group of hTrungs, creatures that looked like overweight goblins, stood with ion axes in either hand. A collection of ten combat bots, most rusted and with some missing parts, hovered in the air, each with a small blaster protruding from its main core. An alien with antennae and tentacles and dirty green skin was sitting inside the open shell of a combat mech that was walking toward her ship.
A computerized voice, she couldn’t tell if it was an android or the ship’s alert system, said, “Exit the vessel with your hands in the air. Do so within the next ten seconds or we will destroy the transport. If you do anything other than walk down the ramp, you will be executed. If you are anyone other than the warlord’s android, you will be executed.”
“Wonderful,” Lancelot said as she stood from the pilot’s seat and walked toward the ramp door.
91
Julian was halfway home when he heard his name called. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Hector hovering toward him and paused to allow his friend to catch up.
“Hector, how are you?”
But instead of returning the warm greeting, the other man said, “What are you up to, Julian? Where have you been?”
Julian sighed. “Hector—” he tried to smile but it failed him— “I understand your concerns. I really do, but you have to trust that I know what I’m doing.”
“Did you happen to see my android today?”
Julian shook his head and scoffed, then began to walk toward his house again. “Did you really think it was a good idea to have one of your best friends followed? How would you feel if I had someone follow you everywhere you went?”
Hector’s metal hand reached out and took hold of Julian’s shoulder. “When was the last time you saw Pistol?”
From the bionic hand gripping him, Julian knew he had to address his friend’s concern before he could go anywhere else.
“This morning, when I realized you were having him follow me. I passed him on the street.”
“And?”
“And I haven’t seen him since.”
A feint gleam of satisfaction crossed Julian’s eyes. The answer was truthful to a degree.
As they moved amongst street vendors and a group of children, both men walked in silence, offering strained smiles at those they passed. They turned a corner and the noise of the market began to die down.
Hector said, “You spoke to some of the representatives about starting another campaign. The last one resulted in the Hannibal taking notice of us. They wouldn’t have decided to cross the galaxy and come for us if you hadn’t taken our ships on that foolish campaign.”
Instead of arguing, Julian offered a large smile. “A campaign of peace, my friend. Not like the one I led months ago, but one of goodwill.”
“Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“Of course. For one very good reason.”
“And that is?”
Julian brought a hand up and patted Hector’s arm. “Because I’m not stupid. I almost died during the last campaign. So did my son. Many people I considered good friends did die. Why would I want to send others into a similar situation?”
Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Then why work with Octo and Winchester? You know they’re trying to do away with the Round Table.”
Julian shook his head. “My friend, it must be difficult living in a world where everything is either black or white.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I am too. Listen, they serve a purpose. Yes, they want to alter how the Round Table functions because anyone who says it functions right now is joking. They’re on one side and you’re on the other. That’s the very reason I’m spending time with them; so I can be in the middle and bring both sides together.”
They turned another corner and began walking along the narrow stone corridor. Walls of rock rose up on either side of them. Julian squinted at the spot further up the path where he had confronted Pistol to make sure there was no indication that anything nefarious had happened there.
Someone else was in the narrow walkway, though. The Soothsayer in his usual black robes. Julian wondered if the old man would say something while Hector was with him. He was also curious to see if his friend would be able to see or hear the cloaked man.
He turned back to Hector and said, “I know you want to follow Vere’s vision. I do too. But it needs to be altered slightly.”
Hector turned and cast an accusing glance. “With you as its leader?”
“Come on, Hector. Don’t be ridiculous. Let the people call me whatever they want. That’s not what I’m interested in. If it were, I would have accepted the crown when they offered it to me.”
They were almost upon the old man now. Mortimous still had his back to them. Julian suspected the old man wouldn’t say anything this time. Part of him wanted to call out, “I’ll be sure to beware the tide of the march,” just to prevent getting drawn into yet another odd conversation with the man. But of course, if Hector couldn’t see or hear the figure, saying anything to the visitor would cause much alarm.
They were only twenty feet away from the Soothsayer. To Julian’s relief, the man seemed to have no interest in offering a warning this time.
Instead, Julian said, “The masses are fickle, my friend. I learned a lesson recently: Beware the tide of the march.”
“What does it mean?”
“You know, I wasn’t sure myself at first. But I think I’ve finally figured it out. It means you have to understand what the people want without getting caught up in the praise they offer. The people are worried. I don’t blame them. We have a foreign invader approaching our doorstep. We have a crazed warlord set on destroying entire colonies. The people want to think someone can save them. I offer them that hope.” He tapped the handle of the Meursault on his hip. “This offers them that. That’s why I don’t contradict them when they call me by all those silly titles. They need to feel like someone is watching out for them and they don’t believe the Round Table is.”
“And your solution?”
“Streamline the Round Table. Give it fewer voices and make sure those voices are focused.” Seeing the doubt and alarm on Hector’s face, he added, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to be an emperor. But what if we had only twelve people at the Round Table?” Hector started to speak but Julian wouldn’t allow himself to be interrupted. “Everyone will still have a voice. Every planet and colony can have their own Round Table. They would voice their opinion’s at a Round Table in their own sector. And each sector would have one person in the Great Hall. We would finally have a manageable number of voices again, everyone would still be heard, there would still be peace—everyone would win. That’s the vision I have, Hector.”
They were a few feet past the old man in the black robes when yet another figure appeared in front of them, at the very end of the walkway. This man was also dressed in all black, a hood over his head. Julian strained to see if he could make out who it was.
A pair of concerns forced themselves to the forefront of his thinking. The first was that Mortimous had never been accompanied by anyone else. The second was that the figure at the end of the walkway seemed to have something in his hand. Although difficult to see from such a distance, Julian swore it looked like the tip of a knife protruding from out of the baggy sleeve of the robes.
