X-Calibur: The Trial

by Jackson-Lawrence, R.

  “Let me go,” Gwen said quietly, her spirit broken as the tears continued to fall. “Please, just let me go.”

  The jailer nodded and the two guards who had been holding her so tightly released her. She dropped to her knees and ran her hands over Lance's blood covered face, feeling at his neck for any sign of life. He didn't move, didn't seem to breathe, but as she pressed deeper into the soft flesh at his neck she imagined she could feel the faintest of beats, then another, slow but steady beneath the tips of her fingers.

  “I didn't mean to,” the jailer said again as he smiled down towards her.

  “Clean water, bandages,” Gwen said pleadingly as she focused all of her attention on the pulse in Lance's neck.

  “I'll get someone to bring them,” the jailer replied, but it was impossible for her to hear anything over the sound of her own sobbing.

  *****

  The six black-clad soldiers charged towards them, swords held aloft as they let out a resounding battle cry. They were Mori, like the guards in Mor-Dred's version of Camelot, dressed in a combination of black plate armour overlying chainmail.

  The closest swung his sword in a downward arc, narrowly missing Arthur's head. Arthur sidestepped, his combat programming making him react instinctively, and he used his momentum to turn and drive his forearm into the back of the soldier's head. The soldier went down in a heap, the sword slipping from his grasp and clattering across the floor.

  “Stay back!” Arthur shouted commandingly towards Merlin. “These aren't like the guards in Camelot, I can hurt them!”

  Merlin smiled to himself as he picked up the sword at his feet. “Arthur, here!” he yelled in reply. “You'll need this!”

  Arthur turned as Merlin threw the sword towards him, catching the hilt in mid air and using it to block the swing of an approaching guard. He kicked out at the soldier advancing on his right, winding him, before turning and slashing at the face of a third.

  The swords were over a metre in length and heavy but perfectly balanced. Arthur had no difficulty wielding the weapon, parrying and riposting as the five remaining soldiers sought to surround him. The space behind the stairwell was narrow and Arthur used a gap he created to roll past his attackers and back into the hallway where he had more room to manoeuvre.

  The soldiers followed him slowly, two from the right of the staircase and three from the left. Arthur backed up towards the large front door, his footsteps sounding unnaturally loud upon the marble floor. The world seemed to pause, time slowing as he held his breath and waited for one of them to make a move. He was ready; his body full of adrenaline and his muscles taught and ready to snap.

  The two groups charged together without a word between them. Arthur ducked beneath the first sword and swung his blade, splitting platemail and knocking the soldier off his feet. His momentum kept him moving past the next soldier, allowing him to turn and drive the blade into the back of the soldier's neck, cracking the chitin with a wet thud. The soldier dropped to the ground, thick black blood oozing from the wound as Arthur paused to catch his breath. The three remaining guards seemed more hesitant, backing slowly away as Arthur flexed his fingers against the sword's grip.

  “I'm willing to accept your surrender?” Arthur offered, smiling.

  In response, the closest soldier charged, weapon held above his head in readiness for a two-handed swing. Arthur blocked the blow with his own sword, the clash of steel creating sparks as Arthur kicked the soldier hard in the chest, knocking him backwards. As he fell, Arthur brought his sword down in a two-handed strike of his own, cleaving the soldier's head in two.

  “I'll take that as a no,” Arthur continued, freeing his sword with a twist of his wrist and pressing onwards. The two remaining soldiers fought as well as their comrades, all brute force and no finesse. Arthur dispatched them just as easily as the others, driving the tip of his sword into the first one's throat before almost taking the head of the second clean off. “Merlin, you can come out now,” he said as he wiped the blood from the sword with the cloth of his shirt.

  “A formidable display,” Merlin said as he peered out from behind the winding staircase. “Well done.”

  “Thank you,” Arthur replied. “It's hard enough to think with all that noise, let alone when there are Mori trying to cut your head off.”

  “Noise?” Merlin asked with confusion. “What noise?”

  “That constant, low droning sound,” Arthur explained. “It started after all the sand? Can't you hear it?”

  Merlin paused and closed his eyes, concentrating. “I can't hear anything,” Merlin replied. “Are you injured? Have you hit your head?” Without waiting for permission, Merlin stepped forwards and began to run his fingers over Arthur's scalp, searching for signs of wound or injury. Arthur brushed him off.

  “I'm fine, Merlin,” he insisted. “It's probably just sand in my ears or something.” Arthur made a point of digging a finger into his ears and shaking his head while Merlin looked on with concern.

  “As long as you're sure?” Merlin said.

  “I am,” Arthur insisted, though his words lacked his usual confidence. “Let's just find a way down into the catacombs.”

  As Arthur began to open doors at random, Merlin's sense of dread continued to grow.

  *****

  Upon hearing Arthur's message, Triltan had redoubled her efforts in her examination of the interrogation machine. She had quickly abandoned her analysis of the nanowires and electrodes, realising that they were merely conduits to transmit raw data to the machine itself. Instead, she had performed a detailed scan of the machine hardware and was slowly beginning to understand how the component parts fitted together.

  On a fundamental level, the machine was like a much larger version of her capsule. It translated neural impulses into digital code that the computer could understand and allowed the user to access them. She had discovered that it could also do the opposite if needed, convert computer code into neural impulses and transmit them into the brain of the accused. The connotations of that concerned her, the interrogators having the power to not only read a person's memories but also to rewrite them, but she had no time to worry about that particular ethical conundrum.

  Triltan was finally much closer to piecing it all together, but still no closer to answering the most important question that plagued her. What happened if she unplugged someone from the machine while it was running? Would the memories be corrupted or even lost altogether? What about the other functions of the prisoner's mind? Could such an action damage the brain or, worse, kill the person she was trying to save?

  Triltan was asking herself those questions when an alert sounded in her ear and an icon began to flash in the centre of her vision. She had set her scanner to monitor the vital signs of her friends trapped inside the birthing pods, and the alert was there to tell her that something had dramatically changed. She thought to her capsule and the readout from the relevant pod appeared in her vision before her.

  As she began to read, her heart sank and her throat felt dry and swollen. The scanner had detected a sudden surge in Lance's heart rate and neural activity before plummeting. His heart was still beating, albeit slowly, but his neural activity was almost non-existent.

  “I'm running out of time!” she yelled to the otherwise empty room, striking her fist against the console in frustration. “I don't know what to do.”

  Part of her wanted to surrender, to give in and wait for her father to arrive, but she knew that she could never give in to that. She'd wasted most of a day already, trying to do the right thing, trying to think like the great Caran Doc. Time was running out, she could feel it, and seeing Lance's readouts only served to remind her of that. He was hurting, or worse, and nothing she had done so far had brought her any closer to saving him.

  Thinking like her father wasn't going to work, not this time. It was time to think like her new friends. They seemed to act before they thought of the consequences, doing something bold and confident and hoping for the
best.

  Disconnecting her scanner from the console, she made her mind up there and then to do something rash, something foolhardy and hope it was enough. It was risky, yes, and certainly dangerous, but a single thought decided it for her.

  Would Arthur, Gwen or Lance do any less?

  *****

  A guard had brought clean water and bandages, just as Gwen had asked. She did her best to clean the sticky blood from Lance's face and torso, but the continued sight of the burnt stump where his left arm used to be made her feel sick every time she glanced at it.

  Lance hadn't moved, hadn't stirred since the guards had dropped him unceremoniously at her feet. Why had the jailer done that to him? Had he been interrogating Lance for some reason, asking Lance questions about the hive or Earth, or was he just hurting him for the sake of it? Why did it have to be him? Why hadn't the jailer chosen her instead?

  A sudden exhalation from Lance made her start, but he failed to move again while she watched. She checked again for a pulse, willing it to still be there, and after what seemed like an eternity she felt the faintest flicker of movement beneath her fingers.

  He was still alive, still holding on, but there was no way Lance could survive another round of torture. She made a pact with herself, deciding that no matter the consequences, she wouldn't let the jailer take Lance again.

  He'll have to kill me, she thought.

  Gwen considered contacting Arthur, letting him know what had happened, but eventually decided against it. Arthur was searching for the Grail, the one thing that could save them, and knowing what had happened to Lance wouldn't help. Gwen realised it could make things worse, make Arthur turn back and return to Camelot or distract him when he needed to be focused. She had no idea what obstacles Mor-Dred would have put in his path, but she knew the insane AI wouldn't make their quest easy. She didn't really believe Mor-Dred would let them go when Arthur and Merlin returned but it was all she had, all any of them had.

  Where was Caran Doc? Why hadn't he arrived to free them from that nightmare?

  Gwen felt lost, empty and alone. Why was this happening? What had Lance ever done to anybody? He was a good man, perhaps the best of them, always looking to help others, no matter the cost. She was the one who said they shouldn't come, should wait or even leave the hive to fend for itself. She should be the one being punished, not him, not the man who had only wanted to do the right thing.

  Gwen broke down in tears, sadness overwhelming her. She'd failed. Lance, Arthur, even Merlin, she's failed all of them. Bowing her head she let the tears fall, let the sobs rack her body as she let it all go. There was nothing she could do now, nothing at all. All she could do was wait.

  Wait, and hope.

  *****

  The fourth door Arthur opened revealed a winding stone staircase descending into murky, torch-lit darkness. Arthur called to Merlin before beginning his descent, his eagerness soon leaving the older man behind.

  “Arthur, wait,” Merlin called into the gloom. The stairs were narrow, especially near the central pillar, and smooth from use. Even with his left hand on the wall for balance, Merlin lost his footing more than once.

  “I'm sorry, Merlin,” Arthur said, offering his hand. “Here, let me help.”

  “Thank you,” Merlin replied with a smile.

  They descended more slowly, Merlin grateful for Arthur's balance and sure-footedness. The combat programming had given him an exceptional sense of coordination and control over his muscles and posture.

  And being young and nimble doesn't hurt either, Merlin thought.

  Arthur quickly lost count of the number of steps they took. The continual droning sound was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate, and he was more than a little worried that Merlin couldn't hear it. It was so loud and seemed to be coming from right beside him. If Mor-Dred could manipulate his senses like that, what else could he do?

  “You really can't hear that?” Arthur asked.

  “No,” Merlin replied with concern. “Tell me again what it sounds like?”

  Arthur made a low, deep humming sound, trying to emulate what he could hear. “The tone goes up and down a bit, but it's just there, all the time,” he said.

  “Could it be the capsule you and Gwen have?” Merlin suggested. “Malfunctioning again?”

  “I suppose so,” Arthur said, relieved. “It hadn't worked for days and then it was so painful. I was able to speak to Gwen but I still haven't heard from Triltan, which makes sense if it's broken.”

  “I suspect it's self repairing, like most Teleri technology,” Merlin said admiringly. “The time I spent exploring the computers aboard the Ardent Dawn, the knowledge and advances they've made. They're such a remarkable species, and to check me over as thoroughly as they did? I'm confident if there was anything wrong they would have discovered it.”

  “You're right,” Arthur said, feigning a smile as he tried to ignore the knot in his stomach. “You're absolutely fine.”

  “Tell that to my knees,” Merlin remarked, returning the smile. “I'll say this for Mor-Dred; sometimes his simulation is a little too realistic.”

  Arthur chuckled. “If you want me to carry you, I will,” he offered. “I'll try not to throw you this time.”

  Merlin laughed loudly. “Yes, yes, I won't be forgetting that anytime soon,” he remarked. “Let's just keep going as we are, it can't be far now.”

  They continued on in companionable silence. Merlin began to notice a pattern in the stone steps, the same grooves and indentations repeating every thirty steps or so, just like the stone bricks in the walls. It was a remarkable and detailed simulation, but Mor-Dred had apparently only had so many pieces with which to build it.

  The steps led to a large cavern, deep within the foundations of the house above. The dim light from the final torch did little to light the way ahead, and Arthur wrestled it from its mounting and carried it before him. The light was insufficient to fully illuminate the extent of the cavern, but the shadows of stalactites and stalagmites could be seen all around them.

  “Merlin, that droning sound,” Arthur said suddenly. “It's stopped.”

  “Excellent!” Merlin replied with a smile. “Perhaps things are looking up?”

  There was a burst of static in Arthur's ear before Triltan's message began to play. “Arthur, I'm here,” Triltan's voice said, sounding as though she was stood right beside him. “I think the capsules are malfunctioning but I'm here now. I've spoken to my father and he's on his way, but that will take a week or more. If I just unplug you it might kill you! What do you want me to do?”

  Arthur relayed the message to Merlin, the older man's brow furrowing deeper with every word. “She's right,” Merlin said at last. “Unplugging you from the pods could kill you, or worse, trap your minds inside the hive network.”

  “I don't understand why Caran Doc is so far away,” Arthur said. “Why would Triltan wait so long to contact him?”

  “Perhaps an error in the translation?” Merlin suggested. “Triltan herself said the capsules are malfunctioning.”

  “Maybe,” Arthur agreed. “What shall I reply?”

  Merlin considered his words carefully before making his suggestions, which Arthur relayed to Triltan. Once the message was sent they continued forwards, torch held before them to light their way. Merlin still had the overwhelming sense of dread that had been slowly building up inside him, warning him that something was coming, something terrible.

  “What do you think the test will be here?” Arthur asked, whispering without realising.

  “Hard to say,” Merlin replied, grateful for the interruption. “So far the trials have tested you more than I. Perhaps this is one for me to deal with?”

  A sudden sound from the darkness made them freeze. It was a scraping sound, long and grating, followed by a gust of wind. Arthur transferred the torch to his left hand and drew the sword with his right. They stepped forward more slowly, tentatively, moving the torch left and right in the hope of catching
anything or anyone ahead of them.

  The cavern ahead was suddenly illuminated by a column of flame, roaring towards them. Arthur grasped Merlin and rolled aside, taking cover behind a rising stalagmite as the hot jet of fire scorched the ground where they'd stood.

  “Merlin?” Arthur asked, eyes wide. “What is that?”

  “That, my King,” Merlin replied apprehensively. “Is a dragon!”

  *****

  Triltan was running down the ramp from the security station when a further high pitched burst of noise interrupted her. She stopped and instructed her scanner to play the message.

  “Triltan,” Arthur's voice said, his tone desperate. “The capsules are malfunctioning, it took several hours for your message to come through. Don't unplug us, Merlin agrees we'd likely die in the process. He suggests you use the resources on the Ardent Dawn to override the network first and make sure it's definitely down before removing us from the pods. Find him, once he's out of the simulation he'll be able to tell you himself.

  “The message you sent said Caran Doc was still days away. I know that can't be true, we've been in here over a week already and I know you wouldn't have waited so long to contact him. Whatever's happening with the capsules, we can sort it out when you get us out of here. We're counting on you, Triltan, I know you won't let us down.”

  Triltan stood in the darkened corridor and played the message again, increasingly confused by its content. She checked the translation, considering alternate words that might make more sense, and performed diagnostic tests on her capsule, but each time she came to the same conclusion.

  Arthur's message made no sense.

  She played it a third time, listening more to the tone Arthur used, wondering if he was perhaps under duress, giving her a message within the message, but she couldn't identify anything. As far as she could tell, the message was exactly what it seemed.