X-Calibur: The Trial

by Jackson-Lawrence, R.

  *****

  Gwen rushed forwards, a sword in each hand. She kicked off the wall to her left, vaulting over the approaching guard and landing in a crouch behind him, turning and driving both blades into his back. As he fell, she withdrew the swords and turned to face the guards advancing upon her from the throne room.

  Triltan held back, out of her depth. Perhaps if she'd had her rifle she could have helped, but fighting with swords was something she had experience of. Instead, she kept as close to the wall as she could, wincing every time a guard's sword came close to striking Gwen and closing her eyes momentarily as Gwen cleaved limbs from torsos.

  The throne room was more heavily guarded than Gwen had expected. She had managed to dispatch the four guards protecting the outer door with ease, mainly due to the element of surprise she had over the previously invulnerable soldiers. However, the guards in the throne room were making her work for every kill.

  She had managed to kill three while four more were left bleeding, their hamstrings sliced or legs separated from their bodies. The soldiers kept coming though, appearing from the doorway leading to the dungeons and more from those opposite. She was in danger of becoming overwhelmed.

  “Triltan!” Gwen yelled. “Anything?”

  Triltan looked up, startled. Gwen was backing up towards her, swords raised. Triltan didn't know what was expected of her, how Gwen expected her to help. She wasn't a fighter, she knew computers, she-

  Exactly, she knew computers and the soldiers were nothing but code. She'd already altered them once, rewriting their programming so Gwen and Arthur could fight them. What else could she do to help?

  Triltan accessed her capsule, analysing the code that made up the closest guard. Appearance, behaviour; it was all there, right in front of her. She scanned quickly through the various subroutines and tweaked and erased until the guards before her slowed, their movements looking as though they were underwater. A moment later they stopped completely, frozen in mid-motion, like statues.

  Gwen stopped too, hands resting on her thighs as she breathed deeply. “Thanks,” she said in between laboured breaths. “I didn't realise there were so many of them.”

  “They should stay like that,” Triltan replied. “Well, unless someone starts them moving again.”

  “Merlin and Arthur will be keeping Mor-Dred busy,” Gwen reassured her. “You need to crash this simulation before he gets the upper hand.”

  “What about you?” Triltan asked.

  “I've got one more promise to keep,” Gwen said sternly.

  *****

  Worm! The fragment was screaming in Mor-Dred's ears. Maggot! Usurper!

  “You'll pay!” Mor-Dred yelled as he turned his attention upon Merlin. “You'll pay for this. Every day, for a thousand years, you'll beg me to release you from the agonising torment of your existence!”

  Merlin backed away, an arc of lightning surging past him. He'd managed to stop Mor-Dred from returning to the castle, but keeping hold on that block was drawing his concentration. The sound of fighting continued to his left, Arthur's ongoing clashes with Mor-Dred's guards. Metal clanged against metal as voices cried out in pain and triumph. Merlin wanted to turn and look, to check on Arthur, but if his concentration wavered even for one moment, Mor-Dred would disappear.

  “Do you think you have a chance?” Mor-Dred said, his voice regaining its normal calm composure. “Do you think I didn't account for this possibility? I built all of this just for you, Merlin, you and your boy-king. I knew you'd fight me, try to escape. I saw every step you'd make and I put measures in place to stop you.

  “You're not leaving here, none of you, not ever.”

  “Then why do you look so scared?” Merlin asked, pushing both hands forwards and firing jets of flame. Mor-Dred sidestepped it easily without breaking his stride.

  “You mistake fear for excitement,” Mor-Dred continued. “All this? This is fun! Perhaps we'll do it again? I might call it Wildfire Wednesdays? No, that won't do. Give me time, I'll come up with something better!”

  The sounds of fighting stopped abruptly and both Mor-Dred and Merlin turned in surprise to see why. Arthur stood surrounded by soldiers, swords raised in various postures of attack, but the soldiers were static and unmoving. Arthur looked just as surprised as any of them, his sword still held in a parrying stance as he turned in a slow arc.

  “No, you can't,” Mor-Dred exclaimed, the fear now showing in his voice as well as his face. “That's, no.”

  Mor-Dred's face contorted, fear becoming anger, becoming rage. His eyes burned brightly as the very blood seemed to boil beneath his chitin plates. Mor-Dred cast his hand forwards, gesturing towards Arthur's uncertain form. Arthur suddenly flew into the air, yelling as the sword fell from his grip before plummeting again, hitting the ground hard. Merlin stared, trying to cushion Arthur's fall, but Arthur was already moving too fast. He hit the ground feet first, his legs buckling as his bones snapped.

  Arthur screamed.

  Mor-Dred disappeared.

  *****

  Triltan nervously picked her way between the motionless guards, convinced that they may move again at any minute and attack her. She tried to concentrate on the plan, hoping it would distract her long enough to do what she needed to.

  She accessed her capsule with a thought and looked out over the throne room, analysing the code as it moved all around her. The castle was the primary hub of the simulation, the central point that all the data moved through, and as she looked around she was able to see that the throne itself was the nexus she was searching for.

  Makes sense, she thought as she climbed upon the dais and sat down. If Mor-Dred wanted to monitor the simulation, he'd make sure it was where he spent most of his time.

  Triltan watched the terabytes of code move and swirl around her, millions of pieces of information passing by in a heartbeat. She had no hope of shutting it down herself, it was simply too big and convoluted to that. Her only hope was to crash the system, make the simulation so unstable that it collapsed around them. Once the system crashed, all the data streams would return to their point of origin, waiting for the mainframe to reboot. The points of origin, she hoped, were the minds of each and every person trapped within.

  She accessed her capsule and began to manipulate the data, deleting segments, moving others, all at random. The more she interfered with the normal working of the simulation, the more unstable it would become. She had no idea how long it would take, how much damage she would have to do, but every piece of data she manipulated brought her one step closer to her goal.

  “What are you doing?” a voice asked. Triltan looked up, terrified, as Mor-Dred stepped towards her, his eyes blazing with hatred.

  “You weren't even invited!” Mor-Dred continued, screaming at her. “This is my world, mine! Do you think you can just come in here and interfere?”

  Triltan froze, her body refusing to move as Mor-Dred advanced.

  *****

  Gwen crept down the stairs to the dungeons, a sword held loosely in her right hand. One of Mor-Dred's guards stood at the bottom, frozen in place, his left foot hovering just above the first stair. Gwen squeezed past him and into the corridor beyond.

  Being back in the dungeon sent a shiver down her spine, an overwhelming sense of dread. She thought back to the moment Lance's broken body had been dumped before her in the cell, the feelings of utter helplessness and despair which had gripped her.

  Gwen reacted automatically to the slashing blade, curling out of the way as she brought her own sword up to deflect the blow. The jailer had been hiding in one of the empty cells and had attempted to attack her as she walked past the half open door.

  “You're ruining it,” the jailer cried as he swung again. “You've ruined everything!”

  Gwen dodged the second swing as easily as the first, stepping in towards the jailer to stop him swinging a third time. He was no match for her, not without guards to protect him, and his attack was one of desperation. Gwen drove the pom
mel of her sword into the jailer's face, knocking him off his feet.

  “Why?” Gwen asked angrily, the tip of her sword held against the jailer's throat.

  “Why what?” the jailer stammered, trying to wriggle backwards. As he moved, Gwen pressed down harder, the tip slipping between his chitin plates.

  “Why?” Gwen asked again. She didn't need to say any more, not to him. He knew what he'd done, what he'd taken from them.

  “He said I could,” the jailer offered by way of apology. “He's the King, he said it would be alright. It was just a bit of fun, that's all.”

  “How many died for your fun?” Gwen asked, her anger rising. The jailer tried to squirm away again as she pressed down harder, the blade slipping further into his throat. She looked down as the jailer tried to speak, but thick black blood bubbled from between his lips. A moment later it was all over.

  Gwen stared at the body of the man who would haunt her nightmares for years to come. Had she done that to him? Was his death justice, or vengeance, and did it really matter? She couldn't let him leave the simulation with the others, live amongst them, have more of his fun. What she'd done, it was necessary, but that didn't make her feel any better.

  Gwen drew the blade from his corpse and dropped to the floor, her legs held tight against her chest as the tears began to fall. She sat there, sobbing, her eyes closed tightly as she waited for the world to end.

  *****

  “Arthur!” Merlin yelled as he hurried to the young man's side. Arthur laid where he had landed, legs twisted at impossible angles beneath his body. He was barely conscious, the pain of his injuries sapping the last of his strength.

  “Go,” Arthur said quietly.

  “I can't leave you like this,” Merlin protested.

  “You have to,” Arthur insisted. “If Mor-Dred stops Triltan, this is all for nothing.”

  Merlin hesitated, indecisive, but he knew Arthur was right. If Triltan was stopped they'd be trapped in the simulation, and the only hope for Lance and Arthur's injuries now was to shut it down. Merlin laid a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder before the air shimmered around him and he was suddenly standing in Mor-Dred's throne room, surrounded by the unmoving guards.

  Mor-Dred was ahead of him, yelling at Triltan as she cowered before him on the throne. “You think you can just come in here and interfere?” Mor-Dred asked, raising his hand in readiness to attack.

  Merlin reached out with his right hand and pulled on thin air, dragging Mor-Dred from his feet and away from Triltan's cowering form. “Finish it, Triltan!” he yelled at her, jumping aside as bolts of lightning surged towards him.

  Mor-Dred was on his feet, screaming with rage. He saw Merlin duck behind another frozen guard and spread his hands wide, throwing the guards against the surrounding walls in the shock wave. Merlin was knocked off his feet, his left arm trapped beneath the heavy guard who lay across him. He tried to push the guard away as Mor-Dred turned back towards Triltan.

  Triltan didn't notice the tables turn. She worked furiously on the nexus, deleting random segments, moving others, her mind focussed only on the task at hand. She could feel a shift in the surrounding room, the ground vibrating as walls shook and the throne itself began to pulse. She saw movement in the corner of her eye as Mor-Dred reached for her, his hand grasping for her throat.

  Merlin raised his free arm and cast forth lightning of his own, striking Mor-Dred in the back. Mor-Dred stumbled and turned, both hands raised with lightning arching from each of his fingertips. The bolts hit Merlin's lightning and the air between them crackled and sparked, the blue haze moving steadily towards Merlin as Mor-Dred bore down upon him.

  Finish him! the fragment screamed. No more games!

  “So desperate to die, Merlin?” Mor-Dred cried. “Just think what will happen to your boy-king without you here to protect him? How much can he endure, do you think? How much before he snaps?

  “He'll know you failed him, that you abandoned him. Do you think he'll blame you for his suffering? I do. The more it hurts, the more he screams, it will be your name he curses!”

  Merlin felt the heat from where his lightning met Mor-Dred's, mere centimetres from his outstretched hand. Around him walls shimmered and disappeared, only to reappear a moment later upside down or in a different position. Patches of stone floor changed to wood and then grass before fading out of existence altogether, while the air grew cold and then hot, blowing around him. As Mor-Dred's electricity met Merlin's fingers, the guard lying across his body disappeared with a burst of high pitched sound which seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  And as the sound stopped abruptly, all that was left was darkness.

  Chapter 13

  Truth and Consequences

  Earth Year 6239

  Merlin stood, no longer pinned down by the heavy guard or Mor-Dred's lightning. All around him was black, a world unformed. Mor-Dred was there, standing before him with his hands outstretched, his look of rage slowly changing to one of confusion. Without the simulation to manipulate, the code to rewrite on a whim, the conjured lightning no longer existed. The hive mainframe was effectively empty, shut down and awaiting instructions.

  “It's over,” Merlin said confidently. “It's done.”

  “No!” Mor-Dred insisted, turning full circle as he surveyed the surrounding emptiness. “You're done, Merlin! I beat you. I beat all of you. I'll restart the world and you'll be mine again!”

  “No,” Merlin said sombrely. “I can't let you do that.”

  “Try and stop me,” Mor-Dred snapped defiantly, stepping forwards.

  “You were right,” Merlin continued, advancing. “We were more alike than I accepted. Like brothers, in a way. It's apt, you taking the name that you did.”

  Mor-Dred stopped and stood listening to what Merlin was saying. Something about the old man was different, perhaps the way he spoke or the way he stood. Mor-Dred couldn't say exactly what, but whatever it was worried him.

  “Perhaps I should thank you,” Merlin continued. “Your plans to expose me, to break me, they opened my eyes to so many truths. I can finally see everything and everyone for what they really are, a universe of possibilities exploding around me. Yes, I should thank you. Would you like that, brother?”

  Mor-Dred felt scared, terrified. He looked for somewhere to run, somewhere to hide, but he was completely exposed. Merlin should be cowering, not him, but something about the old man's demeanour unnerved him. The worm had turned; somehow Merlin had all the power. Mor-Dred began to feel the darkness closing in around him, suffocating him.

  “Thank you,” Merlin said. “You've freed me, and for that I will always be grateful. I do feel sad though, for what comes next. The old Merlin would have offered you mercy, in these, your final moments, but you have reminded me of an all important truth.

  “I was created as a weapon of war.”

  Merlin advanced, confidently, and didn't stop until none of Mor-Dred's code remained.

  *****

  Triltan awoke, the birthing chamber slowly coming into focus around her. She got groggily to her feet and sat at the console, analysing the readouts. The hive mainframe was down, just as she'd hoped, and the pods had reverted to stasis mode. Without instructions from the mainframe, the pods had reverted to their default setting. The bodies and, more importantly, the minds inside were being kept safe until the pod was opened.

  Triltan worked quickly, calling Lance's pod down from high up on the curved wall. A mechanical arm moved up and along, selecting the correct pod and then transferring it to the dais behind her. It hovered just above the shiny metal surface of the dais, expectantly.

  Triltan pressed a button and the pod hissed and opened, spilling the viscous fluid onto the floor beneath it. Lance came next, falling and hitting the dais with a thump. Triltan rushed over to him, ignoring the slippery fluid which covered his body and wrapped her arms around him. Lance was disorientated, confused, his legs weak as he tried to stand. The mask that had covered his mout
h and nose dangled a short distance above his head and he looked at it questioningly.

  “Lance?” Triltan said, wiping more of the viscous fluid from his face. “Lance, it's me, Triltan. You're out, you're out of that simulation.”

  Lance looked down at his left arm, raising it slowly. He moved the fingers tentatively, opening and closing his hand, and his lips displayed the barest hint of a smile before he broke down and cried.

  *****

  A short while later, Arthur, Gwen and Triltan stood at the monitoring station looking over the various readouts. Over a million Mori remained suspended in the birthing pods, their cerebral activity minimal. Triltan had asked about releasing them from the pods, but with no power to most of the hive, as well as limited food and supplies, the best place for them was where they were. Their bodies were being kept healthy while their minds were sedated, a welcome break from the time they had spent in the simulation.

  “Triltan? Finally,” Caran Doc's image said from the large screen above the console. “I've been trying to contact you for hours!”

  “I'm sorry, father,” Triltan replied, looking down at the floor.

  “You're safe,” Caran Doc continued, his anxious tone easing. “That's something at least. You certainly know how to worry me.”

  “Really, I'm sorry,” Triltan told him, her eyes growing milkier as she stood under her father's watchful gaze.

  “No, I'm the one who should be sorry,” Caran Doc said. “I've been thinking a lot about what you said, last time we talked. You're not a child anymore and you're right, I shouldn't treat you as such. It's not easy. You'll always my little girl, the one who used to fall asleep in my arms at night and laugh when I tickled the backs of your knees, but I need to accept that you've grown up.