X-Calibur: The Trial

by Jackson-Lawrence, R.

  “It's a trick,” she said aloud, angry at herself for not spotting it sooner. The more she watched, the more sections of highlighted code appeared on the screens before her, small chunks repeating throughout the much longer subroutine. “This isn't the real control program, just bits of it designed to lure me in. This has all been a complete waste of time!”

  *****

  Mor-Dred's guards escorted Arthur and Merlin quickly through the dark, dirty streets of Camelot. The moon continued to rise slowly behind them, large and full, illuminating their way. They walked past homes and taverns, bakeries and stonemasons, the guards at their back driving them onwards.

  The guards didn't speak a single word. They didn't pause for breath or slow down when the muddy streets gave way to rocky fields on the outskirts of the city. It was only when they reached the perimeter wall that their eight eyes deviated from the path ahead, the two guards at the fore moving to lift the heavy wooden plank which held the enormous gates locked. They raised it without effort, lifting it above their heads before placing in on the floor at the feet. Arthur tested it with a gentle kick as he stepped over it and found it to be so heavy as to be immovable.

  “Your King reminds you to return only when you have recovered the Grail,” the closest guard announced as he held the gate open far enough for them to pass through.

  “How kind of him,” Merlin replied with a sarcastic smile. “I'd almost forgotten what we were doing out here.” The guard stood statue-like, ignoring him.

  “Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Let's just go.”

  Arthur's heart had sunk further with every step they'd taken away from the castle and towards the outskirts of the city. They were powerless to resist Mor-Dred, he'd shown them that. Arthur could still hear the agonised screams Ari-Dun had made as Mor-Dred twisted his body without ever touching him.

  It reminded Arthur a little of the powers Merlin had described, the magic he believed he'd lost and was desperate to recover. Magic could do almost anything, Merlin had said. It could call forth fire and lightning and shape the very world around you. Arthur knew what Mor-Dred had done wasn't magic, but within the simulation was it really so different? Mor-Dred controlled of every aspect of the world they were in and they were truly powerless against him.

  Arthur was so lost in his own dark thoughts that he failed to see Merlin stop dead in front of him as they stepped through the gates. The older man was almost knocked off his feet, Arthur's enhanced reflexes the only thing which kept them upright.

  “Merlin, I'm-” Arthur began, but the look on the older man's face stunned him into silence. Merlin had grown deathly pale and suddenly looked his age, dark rings forming beneath his eyes as his brow furrowed.

  “Camlann,” Merlin muttered to himself. “I had hoped never to lay eyes upon it again.”

  Arthur followed Merlin's gaze as he looked out across the Fields of Camlann, the site of the final battle between Arthur and Mordred. Though Arthur succeeded in defeating Mordred, he was mortally wounded in the battle before being laid to rest on the Isle of Avalon. Though Arthur now knew it was only a story, a construct of Merlin's mind, he couldn't help but be moved by the pain on the old man's face.

  “It's okay,” Arthur said soothingly. “This is just a simulation, remember?”

  “They brought you to me,” Merlin continued, speaking more to himself than anyone else. “Your Knights, they laid your body at my feet and begged me to save you. I did everything I could, worked every magic and spell I knew, but nothing worked. I failed you, Arthur. Despite all my power I was utterly helpless.”

  “That was the past,” Arthur stated, a little more sternly than he intended. “I'm sorry, Merlin, but we don't have time to dwell on it right now. Gwen and Lance are counting on us to save them.”

  Merlin nodded once, wiping a single tear from his eye. “You're right, my King,” he said. “You're here, now, alive and well.”

  Alive and well, Arthur thought to himself as the heavy wooden gate slammed shut behind them. Here, inside this computer, how do I know if I'm either?

  *****

  “Triltan?” Gar-Wan's image asked. “Your father told me what happened but I'm not sure I'll be of much help. Arthur and the others are trapped inside the birthing pods?”

  “And connected to the hive computer network,” Triltan replied. “I thought I was close to freeing them but it was all a trick.”

  “A trick?” Gar-Wan continued. “By whom?”

  “That's what I was hoping you could help me with,” Triltan said. “Have the Mori ever done anything like this before?”

  “Not that I know of,” Gar-Wan replied thoughtfully. “I never had much to do with the slaves, I mean, with the cloning of humans and Dorgans.”

  “But Gwen told me you used the technology to teach her how to fight?” Triltan asked. “You programmed the skills directly into her mind?”

  “I did,” Gar-Wan agreed, “but I have no idea how it actually worked. I bought the device from someone on the lower levels of the hive, all I had to do was connect the electrodes and turn it on. I'm sorry, Triltan, I don't know anything more than that.”

  “Okay,” Triltan said, the disappointment evident in her voice. “Thank you for-”

  “Oh no, wait, I just remembered something,” Gar-Wan interrupted. “Evidence presented at a Senate hearing. The interrogators on the hive used something similar to the programming technology to extract memories directly from the mind's of the accused. If you're looking to find out how to disconnect them, it might be worth you looking at the security logs?”

  “Thank you, Gar-Wan,” Triltan said with a smile. “That's really helpful.”

  “Have you any idea who might be responsible?” Gar-Wan continued. “The one mentioned in the message perhaps?”

  “Mordred?” Triltan clarified. “Merlin suspected a rogue security AI could be involved, but I don't see how. There were guards here, armed and waiting to ambush me. Would they follow the instructions of an AI?”

  “No, fully sentient machines were outlawed,” Gar-Wan replied. “Any autonomous systems were severely limited in their capabilities; they certainly couldn't command living, breathing soldiers of the Empire.”

  “Then I'm looking for a living person behind all of this?” Triltan asked.

  “I don't see how it could be anything else,” Gar-Wan affirmed. “Those left behind on the hive would only follow the orders of a Queen, or at the very least someone assuming her position. Even the Senate was powerless without her instruction.”

  Gar-Wan let his mind wander to the day he'd fled the hive with Arthur and the others, taking every jump capable ship and allowing Merlin to disable to hive ship's gravity engines. Not a day went by where he didn't wonder if he'd done the right thing in helping to free the slaves and cripple the ship he'd called home. What had happened to those left behind after Arthur killed the Mori-Gran?

  He still firmly believed that it was right to free the slaves, but what of the cost? In the chaos that would have followed, how many of his people and suffered and died all because of his beliefs? The millions missing, those trapped inside the birthing pods, how much of that was his fault? What could he have done differently? What would have happened if he'd done nothing at all?

  It had never been his desire to abandon his home, only to stir up enough trouble to bring the debate to the Senate. That had been his plan all along, placing Eve 221 on the mining asteroid with the skills to start an uprising. He wanted his people to abandon slavery, to look to themselves to build their own future, to stop stagnating. Despite his grand notions and peaceful ideals, he knew deep down that the Mori would remember him only as the villain of the story.

  “Gar-Wan?” Triltan said again, rousing him from his thoughts.

  “I'm sorry, what did you say?” Gar-Wan asked.

  “Just, thank you,” Triltan replied with a smile. “You've given me somewhere to start looking for answers.”

  “Good luck,” Gar-Wan said, though the sombre t
one of his voice caused her to view his disappearing image with confusion.

  *****

  Merlin crossed the Fields of Camlann in silence, his head down as his dirty robes dragged muddy water in their wake. Arthur had no idea where they were going, didn't know how to begin searching for the Grail. How big was the simulated Earth in which they found themselves? Was it as big as the entire planet? Bigger? How could they travel any significant distance without the speed of a ship? How would they begin to look for it without scanners to help their search?

  Then it hit him; he didn't have to search for the Grail, he'd already found it, or at least that was what Merlin believed. Whatever memories Merlin possessed, no matter how false or fabricated they may be, were the exact same memories shared by Mor-Dred. Wherever Merlin believed the Grail had been found the first time should be the exact same place it was now, albeit within the confines of the simulation.

  “Merlin,” Arthur began, his voice lighter as he clung the first glimmer of hope he'd felt in days. “Tell me the story of the Grail again?”

  “Of course,” Merlin replied, grateful for something to take his mind off of his failure. “The Grail was brought to Britain from the Holy Lands to the east by a man named Joseph of Arimathea and said to be able to heal any wound. How I wish we'd had it on the day you faced Mordred at Camlann.”

  “Why didn't we?” Arthur asked.

  “We'll get to that,” Merlin said, though the melancholy was already seeping into his tone. “All in all there were many quests for the Grail. I recall Sir Perceval and Sir Galahad spent years searching unsuccessfully, and it was only luck that eventually pointed you in the right direction.”

  “What happened?” Arthur asked.

  “A visiting dignitary had a little too much wine with dinner,” Merlin continued. “He let slip that his family were direct descendants of Joseph of Arimathea, and though he and his entourage disappeared later that night, it was the clue you needed to point you in the right direction.

  “You reasoned, quite correctly I might add, that no man would willingly surrender such a valuable artefact. There were no records to suggest that Joseph of Arimathea had a family, but the dignitary had just given you a name to investigate. Following his ancestry was a relatively simple matter after that, and it led you to their family estate; a castle on the Isle of Corbenic.”

  “And that's where we found the Grail?” Arthur asked.

  “Eventually,” Merlin told him. “The descendants of Joseph of Arimathea had sworn to protect the Grail at all costs and to only surrender it to one deemed worthy. There were a great many trials you faced in the catacombs beneath the ancient castle. There were tests of valour and courage, combat and loyalty, and you succeeded in besting each and every one. At last you stood in the presence of the Grail.”

  “So why didn't I return it to Camelot?” Arthur asked.

  “Some things should remain beyond the reach of man,” Merlin told him. “Even a man such as you.

  “After witnessing its power, you realised that there was nowhere safer for the Grail than where it already lay. Once news of its discovery became public, rulers from across the world would covet it and seek to take it from you. You realised in that moment that what you hoped would bring health and happiness to Camelot would in fact bring nothing but tragedy and death.”

  “I really am quite smart, aren't I?” Arthur said with a smile.

  “You've had a good teacher!” Merlin reminded him, smiling back. It was the first easy smile they'd felt in days and they allowed it to linger before returning to the task at hand.

  “So what's next?” Arthur asked.

  “Now?” Merlin replied. “We find ourselves a ship!”

  *****

  “Here, drink this,” Gwen said, holding the bowl of water to Lance's lips.

  “Gwen?” Lance whispered, still disorientated from the suffering he had endured at the hands of the Jailer.

  The bright sunlight was streaming in through the narrow bared window high up on the cell wall, the shadows from the bars falling across them both as Gwen supported Lance's head. She forced herself to look into his grey, milky eyes and away from the withered, twisted flesh of his left arm.

  He'd been taken three times by the Jailer, and each time he'd come back worse than before. After the third time he was barely conscious when they tossed him onto the hard stone floor of the cell. Gwen hadn't been sure, if she was being completely honest with herself, if he'd ever wake up at all. His skin looked oily and a darker blue than she was used to, and his eyes were unfocussed.

  “I'm here,” Gwen said soothingly, placing the wooden bowl down beside them and stroking his forehead. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  “My arm?” Lance asked as he struggled to sit up. Gwen noticed he didn't even try to move it, the twisted, discoloured limb held close against his chest.

  “It's okay,” Gwen lied. “I think it's looking better.”

  “That's good,” Lance said, the barest hint of a smile appearing on his face. “I can't feel it anymore. The pain, it's gone.”

  Gwen looked down at him, unable to hold back the tear that slid down her cheek and onto her lip, the salty drop sitting there until she wiped it away. “I'm glad,” she managed to say, forcing her mouth into a smile of its own.

  Lance drifted off to sleep again, his head heavy on her legs. He barely moved as he lay there, the oiliness of his skin getting worse with every passing hour as his temperature rose and his skin grew darker. Gwen had given up trying to dress his wounds, unsure if the filthy water from the stagnant pool was doing more harm than good.

  Her only sense of hope came from watching the sun set, the light outside the window turning orange and then red. She had watched that same sunset seven times, and seven days meant the Ardent Dawn was almost with them. The Teleri, with all their technology, would be able to help Lance. He just needed to hold on for a little while longer and then everything would be okay.

  *****

  Triltan hadn't noticed how quiet the birthing chamber had become until a sound from the stairwell startled her. It hadn't been loud or particularly threatening, but once she thought about it, it was the first sound she'd heard in a while. She knew what it meant, even if she didn't want to accept it. One or both of the prisoners were waking up.

  Her prisoners, she corrected herself as she unclipped the rifle from the bracket on her back. She'd been the one to capture them, to trick them into stepping into their own electrical field before tying them up and taking away their weapons. She'd left them lying on the floor of the corridor between the birthing chamber and the docking bay, hands and feet securely bound.

  The rifle shook in her hands as she held it out before her and stepped towards the stairwell. She kept telling herself not to think about it, but that only made her think about it more. They were soldiers of the Mori Empire, highly trained, ruthless and dedicated to their cause.

  Oh, and they were so much bigger than her.

  And angry.

  Furious even.

  And she was walking towards them?

  She paused at the top of the stairs as the rifle began to shake so violently she was worried she was going to drop it. She took a moment to try to calm herself, to remind herself that they were unarmed and her prisoners, not the other way around. The guards had managed to capture Arthur, Lance and Gwen, three of the most capable people she'd ever met, but she'd been able to get the drop on them. They knew how to get her friends out of the birthing pods, and she was going to make them tell her.

  Putting on her most fearsome expression, Triltan held the rifle firmly in front of her as she began to descend the stairs.

  Chapter 7

  Of Kings and Queens

  Earth Year 6239

  As Triltan descended the steps, the sounds of agitated movement suddenly stopped. She flicked on the torch beneath the barrel of the rifle, shining it first at the closest guard and then at the one furthest away. They both lay still, unmoving, but she wasn't fooled.
They were both breathing much faster than when she had left them, and the guard closest to her had turned himself around within the corridor.

  “I, I know you're awake,” Triltan announced, though her voice stuttered, betraying her anxiety. “I'm armed, so I wouldn't, don't try anything.”

  “What do you want?” the closest Mori asked, his bound feet failing to find purchase as he scrambled to get away.

  “What is it?” the second Mori asked, his voice betraying his fear.

  Triltan paused, taking in the scene before her. She had expected to find the guards already free and waiting to ambush her, or perhaps fleeing, retreating to find reinforcements to take control of the birthing chamber. The few Mori that she had met were proud, fierce and noble. The two before her were shaking in fear; cowardly, almost child-like.

  She was reminded of the impression she'd had of the guards when she'd bound them. The wide facial ridges were a sign of adolescence in the Mori, and though both were taller than her, neither of them were as tall as Arthur or Gar-Wan.

  “You're just children,” Triltan said aloud. “Both of you.”

  The two Mori looked quickly at each other before turning back to fix each of their eight eyes upon her. “What do you want?” the closest Mori asked again, sounding more fearful than before.

  “Please don't hurt us,” the second Mori pleaded.

  Triltan suddenly realised that she didn't know exactly what she wanted. She didn't want them to escape, to harm or her or call for help, she was sure about that, but as to what she wanted from them? Now that she was asked, she had absolutely no idea.