Beside Lieutenant Theta, an ensign wore a CAB suit fitted with dual heavy shoulder cannons. The right cannon expelled a thick burst of white laser. The left cannon let loose sky blue ion blasts. The idea was that electronic systems would be disabled with the ion cannon and then the laser cannon cleaned up the rest of the threat.
These were just two of the capabilities that Talbot and the other officers possessed and which they discharged down both directions in the asteroid tunnel. However, from within the defensive perimeter they had established, they were taking fire from just as many unique weapons, many of which they had never encountered before.
During a letup in the Carthagens’ assault, Talbot had ordered the others to dig trenches behind the stone walls they had built. Carthagen weapons could cut through the walls that the Round Table forces had constructed. It would be much more difficult for the Carthagens to get to them in their trenches below floor level. There, they would make a stand and repel the Carthagens.
With the CABs, it had been easy for two officers on either side to dig out a deep ditch and use the displaced rock to reinforce the walls they had already constructed.
In the middle of the work, Warwick had groaned and, still lying flat on the transport’s floor, grabbed Talbot’s leg as he walked past.
“I don’t care if I get out of here. Just make sure I get to see you wipe these things out,” the brigadier said.
Talbot hadn’t known what to say in response and so he had merely nodded and continued making sure the defensive perimeter was set. None of the more senior officers questioned him or tried to stake their rightful claim to command. Instead, all of them seemed relieved that Talbot had spoken up and was going to save them. Or so they hoped.
An hour of silence passed after the pair of trenches was excavated. The officers briefly entertained the possibility that the Carthagens had decided to stand down.
“Maybe they’re negotiating with the Round Table and we don’t know about it,” Lieutenant Marv-Lel said.
It seemed a reasonable theory to Talbot. After all, they didn’t even know where they were within the giant asteroid. The last they knew, the other flagships above the asteroid were effectively cut off from the outside galaxy. Maybe the Carthagens had used this upper hand to begin negotiations with the fleet to leave Orleans peacefully.
It turned out to be wishful thinking. During the next hour that followed the period of quiet, another wave of Carthagen attacks began and they were more steady and purposeful than any of the previous ones.
“I think we annoyed them by making a home in their tunnel,” an ensign said with a half smile before launching a trio of miniature proton torpedoes in one direction down the tunnel.
With each new barrage, the Carthagens utilized a new weapon that not even the CABs were prepared for. Beside the wall where Lieutenant Theta was positioned, a sliver of stone moved to the side. A rubbery nozzle protruded and clicked into place. Without pause, a stream of gold colored gas began to flow out. As soon as it spread through the air far enough to reach the lieutenant, his armor began to disintegrate.
Theta gave a momentary cry of panic, then turned and aimed his sub-zero grenade launcher toward the wall, letting loose with a blast. The Carthagen’s nozzle, along with ten feet of the wall, was covered in a flash of silver and blue and black. Nothing else emitted from the aliens’ weapon, but it was too late. The corrosive substance that had touched Theta’s CAB continued to dissolve the armor along his other arm. As soon as it reached the storage chamber where the solar missiles were stored, they would be compromised and Lieutenant Theta and anyone standing next to him would be engulfed in a miniature sun.
A look of utter panic crossed his face. Theta glanced at Talbot for some bit of useful advice, maybe for him to miraculously be saved. There was nothing anyone could do, though, unless they too wanted to be incinerated.
“Go!” Marv-Lel yelled at Theta while Talbot looked on in shock.
Lieutenant Theta, knowing what the other officer meant, seemed to sink within his CAB. Resigned to death, he jumped out of the trench and took two long strides down the tunnel before the thermo casing ruptured.
When the flare died out seconds later, the only things remaining from Theta’s CAB were charred pieces of the material that connected the armor segments together. The metal that made up most of the suit was gone, as was any trace of the body that had been inside.
Before Talbot or any of the others could react, a series of flares were launched by a Carthagen hidden somewhere further down the tunnel. The flares erupted in brilliant flashes of white light that not only disrupted their suits’ optics, but also made each officer close their eyes in pain.
When Talbot reopened his eyes, a Carthagen was standing directly behind the ensign with the pair of shoulder cannons. The Carthagen ignited a pair of vibro swords, then swung both at the ensign’s lower back. Before Talbot could turn and fire, the Carthagen warrior jumped to the side where a stone panel in the tunnel slid away, allowing him to escape.
“Are you okay?” Talbot asked.
The ensign fell forward in her CAB suit, causing Talbot to wrap his arms around her to keep her steady.
“Are you okay?” he said again.
The ensign blinked in rapid succession but said nothing. Talbot looked down and realized the lower half of the CAB was still planted to the ground, its stabilizers working as they were supposed to. It was only the ensign’s upper body that Talbot was holding, and she was dying in his arms. She didn’t say anything before she died. She merely shivered for a few moments, kept blinking over and over as if trying to remain conscious, then became still.
With nothing else he could do, Talbot lowered her armored torso to the ground and returned to battle.
57
News of the destruction of Lamt-Minor shocked the representatives seated in the Great Hall. Not only had the peaceful colony been attacked, it had been utterly wiped away by the explosive might of the Excalibur vessel Arc-Mi-Die had sent.
“This never would have happened if Vere hadn’t freed those ships,” a translucent alien with tentacles said.
Unable to control himself, Cimber shouted, “You wouldn’t have your freedom if it weren’t for Vere.”
Although Hector was able to keep himself from shouting and didn’t condone such behavior, he nodded as Cimber put them in their place.
The alien that had been chastised became quiet but hundreds more began talking in quick succession. One asked how the vessel was able to get past the detection systems that the Round Table had ensured would keep each sector safe. No one had an answer.
Another representative, an old female human with long gray hair, asked why no one could find Arc-Mi-Die given the Round Table’s vast resources. No one had an answer to that, either.
Some in attendance said this was proof they should negotiate with the warlord. Others said it was proof that the insane criminal could not be reasoned with.
And still nothing was settled upon.
58
When the door to Lancelot’s chamber opened and the Carthagen entered, Julian was already standing in the middle of the room in his CAB. He noticed right away that Lancelot’s mood had changed, and not for the better. All four of the warrior’s arms were tense. He kicked at one of the medical bots that had remained behind to provide an update. To its credit, the bot knew to flee as fast as possible if it wanted to remain operational.
“Let’s get this over with,” Lancelot said as if forced to finish an annoying chore.
The Carthagen withdrew both lances from his back and both Meursaults from behind his shoulders. Rather than choose weapons of his own, Julian remained standing in the middle of the floor.
“What?” Lancelot asked impatiently.
“I thought it was going to be a fair fight this time,” Julian replied, gesturing at Lancelot’s weapons.
Lancelot looked down at his weapons and shrugged. He laid the swords down on the ground behind him. Julian considered asking if he
could use the pair of Meursaults, but knew there was no way another combatant would hand over such weapons. But also, Lancelot had earned them in combat, and handing them over would be like giving someone else a hard-won medal of valor.
Once again, the stone wall inexplicably slid open. Julian had no idea how it operated or if Lancelot were controlling it somehow. He would never admit it to the Carthagen, but he had tried to open the compartment’s door while his captor was away and been unsuccessful in his many attempts.
He scooped up the same vibro sword and lance as usual and moved closer to the middle of the room without igniting them.
“I have a feeling this is going to be the final time we fight,” he said with a slight smile to convey the uneasy camaraderie built up through multiple fights, even if the combined duration of those fights wasn’t very long.
He got the sense, however, that behind Lancelot’s brown and bronze faceplate, none of the same martial spirit was in evidence at that moment.
“If I defeat you,” Julian said, “what would you recommend I do?”
He remained near the center of the room, his weapons down to show the duel had not yet begun. The Carthagen took small scuffling steps forward, barely lifting his feet from the floor as he moved. When the tips of both lances were inches away from Julian’s face, Lancelot stopped.
“If I knew that, I would know what I should do as well.”
Lancelot waved his weapons back and forth, taunting Julian to begin the duel. He was determined to stand his ground, however.
“I just want to get my son and get out of here,” he said. “How do we get out of the tunnels and get our ships safely away from the asteroid field?”
Lancelot gave a slight shake of the head. “To find the path, you have to walk it.”
The answer was so nonsensical, so unhelpful, that Julian couldn’t help but become enraged. It would have been less maddening if Lancelot had simply ignored the question or said he couldn’t answer. Without thinking, Julian brought both weapons up, ignited them, and lunged forward. The Carthagen redirected his weapons, jabbing both at Julian’s face. Ducking to the side and bringing his sword up at the same time, a resonant clack sounded as the two vibro weapons collided.
Lancelot moved a step forward and to the side, then snapped one of his lances down on Julian’s head. It didn’t cause serious damage, but it did send a jolt of pain through Julian’s neck. He could hear the top of his CAB sizzle from where the energized weapon had seared it.
He brought his own lance upward to deflect both of Lancelot’s weapons, then swung the sword at the Carthagen’s waist. Lancelot had to pull back sharply to avoid having his midsection slashed open. Even so, the sword knicked against the edge of the brown armor plate.
One of Lancelot’s front feet came up and pushed away, ramming into Julian’s midsection and sending him tumbling across the room. Without the CAB suit on, the kick would have done a lethal amount of internal damage. Inside the heavy combat armor, all Julian had to worry about was getting back up to his feet before the Carthagen was upon him.
He returned to his feet just in time to see the gleaming electric tip of a vibro lance rush past his face and lodge into the rock wall behind him.
Crouching down so his knees almost touched the floor, he brought his sword up between himself and Lancelot and, once that space was created, jabbed his lance at the warrior’s lower right shoulder. The lance pierced it with ease, but Lancelot seemed unaffected. One of his lances was still stuck in the rock behind Julian, so Lancelot let go of it. At the same time, the Carthagen’s other lance tore through Julian’s right shoulder at almost the exact same point it had been pierced before.
Unlike Lancelot, Julian screamed in pain. He also dropped the lance he had been holding in that hand. Lancelot took a step backward. Julian, knowing his window of victory was rapidly closing, dived forward. His sword came down on Lancelot’s lower left wrist, slicing off his hand, which fell to the floor still holding the lance. Again, Lancelot seemed unaffected by the injury.
Before Julian could bring the sword up for another strike, one of Lancelot’s upper arms caught him by the wrist, keeping Julian in place. The Carthagen’s other hand caught hold of the neck of Julian’s CAB and began to squeeze.
Inside the CAB, Julian could hear the metal armor groan under the force of the mighty Carthagen’s grip.
Lancelot forced Julian’s sword-wielding hand down. Once the sword in that hand was pressed against the stone floor, the warrior stomped on it with one of his front feet. The sound was sickening. In addition to the armor glove tearing, its metal screaming as it was crushed, all of the bones in Julian’s hand were pulverized.
“You have lost,” Lancelot said, one hand still holding Julian’s wrist just above where his hand was utterly ruined and the other hand gripping at the human’s throat. “Again.”
He brought Julian’s helmet up so they were the same height, causing Julian’s feet to come off the ground ever so slightly.
“How do I get my son out of here?” Julian gasped through the pain.
It was probably the last thing Lancelot expected to hear at the hands of a dying opponent. It seemed to take the Carthagen aback, and Julian felt the hand around his throat loosen slightly.
“I just want to ensure my son’s safety,” Julian gasped.
“I already told you how,” Lancelot said, defeat resonating in his voice even though he was the one with a critically injured combatant in his grasp. “To find the path, you have to walk it.”
Even though he was defeated in more than one way, the response made Julian groan in frustration. He brought his free hand up toward Lancelot’s helmet, coughing as he did so. Lancelot shook his head, a combination of disdain and sad amusement.
A spark of light appeared at the edge of Julian’s glove. The blade of his retractable ion knife extended. Before Lancelot could react, Julian drove the knife at an angle from underneath Lancelot’s neck, up toward his chin.
Instantly, Lancelot’s grip released and the warrior stepped back in his first display of true pain. Julian, unable to support himself in his current state, only remained standing because of the CAB’s stabilizers.
Lancelot stumbled backward, disappearing into the shadows of the far wall. On the ground, where he had been standing, Julian noticed the Carthagen’s helmet on the ground, splattered with red blood.
The warrior roared with discomfort and fury. Something about the sound made Julian squint with confusion. The voice was different. It no longer sounded alien at all.
Stepping forward, Lancelot appeared from the shadows and stomped the ground with all four feet. Julian gasped, unable to comprehend what he saw. Instead of an alien face, he saw long blond hair and blue eyes with thick eyelashes. Instead of fangs and an oversized mouth, he saw the full lips of a human female, with sharp cheeks and a long neck.
“Oh my,” Julian gasped. “You’re...”
There were two main things he thought about saying right then. The first was, “You’re human?” He had entered the Orleans asteroid field to find a reclusive alien race and had lost in one-on-one combat to a warrior with four arms and four legs.
And yet Lancelot was clearly human.
It made sense now that Julian thought about it. That would explain why Lancelot’s smaller arms didn’t sense pain. They were part of a sophisticated suit of armor rather than actual flesh and blood. Same, probably, with two of Lancelot’s legs.
Julian managed to suppress an equally unnecessary question. “You’re a woman?”
Lancelot had earned the title of the best Carthagen warrior and had, for better or worse, earned the nickname the Scourge of the Round Table. Julian had lost in combat to her three times already. Somehow, a human woman was in an asteroid in the middle of the Cartha sector, protecting an elusive and private species of aliens. She was everything that classic artists had tried to capture when they set out to create absolute perfection.
It made no sense, and he said neither of the
se things.
Struck dumb by such radiance amid the brutish ugliness of his surroundings, his brain shut down and all he managed to utter was “...you’re... beautiful.”
Lancelot gave another yell, then charged across the room. Julian was hypnotized by the long streaks of golden hair flowing behind the warrior. He saw her front foot raise slightly off the ground. In an instant, his legs had been taken out from under him and he crashed to the floor. She was on top of him in an instant, her boot on his helmet.
His faceplate, with his head still inside, groaned under the pressure as she drove down upon it, metal bending around his head as it began to give way. His helmet cracked open. His eyes felt like they were going to burst. Lancelot growled again, then put more weight down on her front foot.
Julian heard a crack like an explosion in his head.
Art 5
Lancelot Unmasked, by Molly Evans, watercolor and ink
59
After the next afternoon Round Table meeting, in which nothing was settled, Hector and Cash waited in the corridor outside the Great Hall. Knowing Cimber wouldn’t be able to control his emotions, they had Pistol take the furious representative back to his office. When Octo and Winchester appeared, surrounded by a group of other representatives, Hector shifted his weight so his hover platform moved in front of them.
“We need to talk.”
Hector’s intimidating tone and muscular frame, twice as broad as any other being in sight, prompted the representatives on either side of Octo and Winchester to slip away to avoid whatever was going to happen next.
“This is madness,” Hector said, Cash standing beside him. “We need to do something.”
Octo smiled and nodded. “I completely agree, my friend. What should we do?”
Hector’s energy disk moved slightly to the side to allow others to pass.
“Something has to be decided one way or the other,” Hector said. “Julian and the rest of his fleet haven’t been heard from in days. It’s a matter of time until Arc-Mi-Die destroys another colony. We all know it, and yet nothing happens.”
Lancelot Page 18
