Six guards escorted David up to the court. He smiled beneath his helm. Even unarmed, they were taking no chances. It would be bad for Lady Agnes’s plan for him to escape, perhaps. There had to be a way to foil whatever she was up to.
The court room was a large open space. The ceiling vaulted high overhead. A small crowd gathered around the edges of the room as witnesses to the combat. Duels and challenges by battle were no common, but nor were they unheard of.
A Justice stepped out into the middle of the room, his black robes showing his office. He clapped his hands together and the buzz of conversation around the room ceased.
“We are assembled to bear witness to the challenge of Lady Agnes and Sir Drake,” the Justice said. “Before this battle begins, will either of you yield your position that the other speaks untruly against you?”
“No, Justice,” Lady Agnes said. She held a hand to her wounded side theatrically.
The Justice turned to face David, who mutely shook his head in reply. No, he would not yield. If he did, he died.
“Lady Agnes, you seem ill-prepared for battle,” the Justice said. “Do you require time to get into armor?”
He would know already that she intended to fight via a surrogate, but the words were almost ritual.
“No, Justice. I will have someone do battle for my cause, due to my wounds,” she replied.
“Who will serve as your champion?” the Justice asked.
“Sir Nicholson,” Agnes said.
A pin dropping in the room would have sounded like a crashing elephant. David felt his pulse race. His ally and patron, fighting against him? But he would have no choice. If Agnes called for him as champion, he would be as good as admitting he thought she lied if he refused. His own life could end up forfeit, then. His entire family could be cast into disgrace. She’d laid a neat trap.
Nicholson strode forward, already suited in gleaming plate armor. He carried a massive pole axe. His visor was up, allowing David to see his grim face and sad eyes before he snapped the thing down. Nicholson didn’t intend to lose this fight. He was already mourning David’s death before the battle had begun.
With good reason. Nicholson had been wearing armor into battle since before David was born. Far from growing slower as he aged, the old warrior was still in his prime. Few in the entire Kingdom could stand before him and prevail.
David knew he was going to die. He despaired that his warning would go unheard. There was a bigger enemy out there than the Commonwealth, if only these people would see it!
As the guards came over with David’s sword, the AI within his head finally spoke again. It hadn’t said a word since their conversation earlier.
Solution found. Nanites have been fabricated and released. Memories being copied and transferred to digital silicon chip.
What? David thought back I don’t understand.
I have released tiny machines inside you. They have read your memories and are imprinting them to a chip which your tablets can read, the voice said. This will still take a short while. You must delay as long as possible.
Delay? I’ll be lucky if I can stand against him for more than a minute, David thought.
Nanites will also enhance physical capabilities. You will be faster and stronger than before. You must hold him long enough for the nanites to finish copying. The chip will extrude from your palm once complete, the voice said.
I don’t understand. You’re making a data chip - from what?
From your body, mostly. From bits of other material I have had the nanites gather out of your environment. The chip is small. This is not a complex task, but building the initial nanites took time and concentration, the voice said.
Tiny machines, running around inside him? The idea gave David chills. And yet it might be the only thing that saved him. Which might in turn allow him to save the Kingdom. If everything went perfectly, and he managed to stay alive, anyway.
Please do try, the voice said.
It was time. The Justice beckoned David and Sir Nicholson forward. The two men stepped up to meet each other and drew blades. Each gave the other a salute of their weapon.
“I’m sorry, boy. I must do as honor demands,” Sir Nicholson said.
“I understand, sir. We were both trapped in her web.”
Then Nicholson’s force field crackled to life. David activated his own field, and the one around his sword. This battle was going to require every iota of his concentration if he was going to survive.
“Begin!” the Justice called, stepping back swiftly.
Nicholson didn’t wait. He lashed out with the heavy pole-arm. David saw the attack coming almost too late to stop it. He put his blade up in a clumsy block at the last moment. The two fields struck one another, clashing, then the weapons came together with a resounding clang. Sparks flew as the fields contested with each other.
The force of the blow was staggering. How was a man so old still so damned strong? David barely kept his feet. The killer axe came sweeping in with a second strike, this one from the opposite side. Again David parried, but this time the blow took him completely off balance. He flew backward and crashed to the marble floor, flat on his back.
He wasn’t wounded, except for his pride. The armor was well-padded. But David hastened to his feet anyway, unsure whether Nicholson would strike while he was down. Such was frowned upon, but not against the rules of the challenge.
“I thought you better trained than that, boy. Letting an old man get the best of you?” Nicholson taunted.
David felt a brief flare of anger, but put it down quickly. His opponent was trying to rile him up. Anger was the enemy here. He needed to remain cool. He swung his sword out in an arc. Nicholson took a half step back and the blade whistled past directly in front of him. Then he came in with a riposte of his own that David barely blocked.
This isn’t going well. Can you hurry the chip?”David thought.
No. You need to stall longer. You are faster than this, now. Take advantage of the speed I have given you.
Faster how? David flexed his shoulder muscles and noted that they did feel different somehow. What had the creature done to him?
A question for after, he chided himself. His focus needed to be on the battle. He launched into a series of punishing attacks, and this time it was the old knight placed on the defensive. David rained down blow after blow. Each was dodged or deflected, but Nicholson was straining to stop some of the strikes.
“That’s more like it, boy! Fight with your heart and your head,” Nicholson said.
As he spoke, he reversed his grip on the pole arm, driving the butt end of the weapon upward, and then directly at David’s torso. David saw the danger too late. The weapon’s tail end was capped with a spike, which dove through his shield like it wasn’t even there. The sharp tip struck David’s armor on the left side of his breastplate, sliding along it with a screech of metal on metal. David twisted wildly, trying to avoid the potentially mortal blow.
The point caught on his right breastplate and punched through it. Pain overtook David. He felt blood drain from the wound, trickling down his chest as Nicholson withdrew the weapon. David almost sank to his knees, but he would not allow himself to fall.
“I’m sorry, boy,” Nicholson said. His voice did sound contrite, which was little relief.
Working to block pain receptors, the voice said. Stand by.
Stand by? That was the one thing David couldn’t do. Already the axe whistled toward his neck. David took a step back and raised his sword with his left arm, the right hurting too much to move well. He blocked the blow, and the one after. But he was backing away steadily. The wall was only a few feet behind him. He was running out of room to retreat.
All at once the pain in his chest vanished. He returned the sword to a two-handed grip, parrying the next blow with enough strength that it sent the weapon backward out of position. David swirled the sword back in, smashing hard against Nicholson’s ribs. His sword didn’t penetrate the armor, bu
t the old knight grunted with pain.
“A good shot,” Nicholson said. “My turn, now.”
“No, sir,” David said. “I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t afford to lose. No matter what else happened, the future of the entire Kingdom depended on his surviving the next few moments. He cared for the old man in front of him more than he did almost anyone else alive, but even if he had to kill Nicholson to save his world, he would.
Maybe there was another way, though. If he was fast enough and strong enough. Was he?
David dashed forward, pouring every ounce of speed he had into the maneuver. His sword lashed out high, taking the pole arm out of alignment again. Then he dropped the blade low, down between Nicholson’s legs.
It was a fool’s move. By having his blade so low David was leaving himself wide open to counterattack as soon as Nicholson recovered his weapon’s position. But that was why David needed to make sure he couldn’t do so.
He continued driving forward, coming in low and fast. David’s shoulder crashed into the force field protecting his opponent, then smashed into Nicholson’s chest.
The old knight staggered under the force of the blow. It forced him to take half a step back. That was just enough. David’s blade was still between Nicholson’s legs. As the old knight stepped back, his leg armor tangled with David’s sword.
Unable to retain his balance, Nicholson fell backward to the floor.
David stabilized his rush, twisting his hips to bring his left foot forward. He stepped down hard on the haft of Nicholson’s weapon, pinning it to the ground. Then he laid the tip of his sword at the fallen man’s neck.
“Well done, boy. Not many men can say they’ve bested me. Finish it,” Nicholson said. Then his voice dropped lower, pitched so only David could hear. “And save our Kingdom from ruin.”
“I won’t kill you, Sir Nicholson. That’s foolish horse-shit!” David said. He stepped back, withdrawing his sword from the man’s neck and offering his hand instead.
Nicholson took it and rose to his feet again. While he did, David turned to face the Justice.
“I have bested my opponent in personal combat. Am I innocent or guilty?” David asked.
Before the Justice could answer, Lady Agnes stepped in from the sidelines. “The challenge of combat is to the death.”
“Usually. But it can be otherwise, if both parties agree,” the Justice said. “Lady, it is you who Sir Nicholson represents. Do you agree that justice has been served?”
“I do not. Finish the battle,” she replied.
David drew his blade back toward a ready position. He was tired and sore, but if this fight could only be concluded with a death, then he was ready to finish it. If only he could delay things just a little longer…!
Data chip complete, the voice said.
David opened his right hand. There was something in his hand, inside his gauntlet. He thumbed what had to be the chip between his fingers and dropped his sword. It clattered against the marble floor. Then he withdrew the gauntlet from his hand and let it fall beside his weapon.
“Justice, I have something you might want to see, which could influence the court’s decision in this matter,” David said.
“This is irregular, but so is the whole matter. Step forward,” the Justice said.
David went to his side and passed him the chip. The Justice inserted it into his tablet. HIs eyebrows shot up as he reviewed the video, taken as if from David’s own eyes. Then he turned toward Lady Agnes.
Who was no longer standing beside him. She was sneaking through the crowd, headed toward a set of doors.
“Seize her!” the Justice called. Guards rushed forward to obey his order, grabbing Lady Agnes by both arms. She struggled only a moment and then seemed to wilt in their arms. Her head hung low as they dragged her forward.
“I take it you know what is on this chip?” the Justice asked.
“I can guess. How did you manage it?” Agnes asked. She looked up at David and stared daggers into his eyes. “You were searched for electronic equipment. How did you make a recording?”
“Perhaps the search was not as thorough as you might have wanted. Or maybe not all your people were as unaware of your treason as you thought,” David replied.
“Take her away,” The Justice said. “We will hold trial for her tomorrow. It will, I suspect, be brief. Sir Drake, you are acquitted of all charges and freed. You have shown honor this day, Sir Knight. Continue doing so and you will bring glory to your house and your Kingdom.”
It was high praise, and David blushed beneath his helm. “My thanks, Justice. I only did what I hoped was right.”
Largely thanks to you, David thought. For the first time since he’d been joined inside his head by this being, he felt like it might not be all bad. Like perhaps this was something that would add more to his life than it took away, after all.
Somewhat. But you also did your part well. If I was going to be attached to a biological life form, I cannot complain about the being I was stuck with, the voice said. They are right. You did well.
“Continue doing so,” Sir Nicholson said from beside him. “You’ve accomplished much this day. We have some housecleaning to do, it seems. But we will take care of that later. For now, you have a wound to attend to?”
David flinched as all the pain came rushing back. He gasped and almost fell forward. He clutched at his chest, where he could still feel hot blood trickling from the wound.
“Yes, Sir Nicholson.”
“Come with me. I’ll take you to the medical wing. I need to have this ribs attended to anyway. I think you broke a few of them,” Nicholson said.
David had a sudden thought, and had to ask. “Sir? If you had an idea what Lady Agnes was up to, did you let me beat you?”
Nicholson laughed. “Ah, boy. I’ll be letting you wonder that, for now. An old man like me needs every advantage he can get. Making the youngsters doubt themselves is fine strategy.”
David joined him, first in a chuckle and then a full laugh as the two made their limping way down the hall to be tended.
Author Kevin McLaughlin
When not sailing across a narrow inland sea or swinging swords at his friends, USA Today bestselling author Kevin McLaughlin can usually be found in his Boston home, writing the next book. You can read more of his work in the Adventures of the Starship Satori and Valhalla Online series. Visit www.kevinomclaughlin.com for a free trial ebook!
The Spike
By Nathan Mutch
When John McCormack emerges from the alien wreckage, only he knows what he leaves behind—and what he has brought with him.
This part of the country seems to have all hell for a basement, and the only trap door appears to be Medicine Hat.
–Rudyard Kipling
“We were born to die.”
John McCormack knew a thing or two about death. He also knew a thing or two about when to keep his mouth shut. We were born to die—those were the words he spoke aloud just after closing the door to his last session with the military-appointed psychologist.
John recalled what the psychologist had said during their first session—that survivor’s guilt was a natural consequence, especially since he alone had survived. No one could have foreseen that their brief exposure to the crashed alien ship would be fatal—that their hazmat suits would offer no protection.
“We were born to live our lives,” the shrink had said. “The other Marines lived to serve. They died performing their duty.”
John shambled away from the stuffy, claustrophobic office and stayed close to the corridor wall as if he might suddenly need it to steady himself. The faces of the fallen haunted him.
John spoke the words again. He spoke as if talking to his ghosts would somehow make them sympathetic.
“We were all born to die.”
A strange but familiar voice rose up from his chaotic thoughts. It was so clear that it drowned out the memories, yet the voice itself was like a memory. As odd as it
seemed to have a voice in his head that John felt didn’t belong to him, what happened next was stranger still. His mind made the words his own.
“You are wrong, John. You were born for a specific purpose.”
John nearly turned around and marched back into the psychologist's office. He was sure he had cracked, but the thought of dealing with a headshrinker again was a great weight pressing on his chest. He kept walking and took his ghosts with him.
***
Soon after John was granted separation from the Marine Corps, he found work at an off-world mining operation with the same company that had shot down the alien spaceship—an irony few of his fellow miners failed to point out. But John didn’t require reminders. He remembered perfectly.
The alien ship had entered Earth’s orbit undetected by every space observation network on the planet. GISEC, the Goryeo Inter-Korean Space Exploration Conglomerate, detected the ship with an automated orbital salvage and reclamation platform and mistook it for space junk. The AI on the platform decided the ship was a danger to nearby satellites and attempted to disintegrate it. If it wasn’t for GISEC, the ship might have come and gone unnoticed.
Of all the places in the world, the falling ship’s trajectory sent it hurtling toward downtown Medicine Hat. In the blink of an eye, the city was leveled. The city that was built on a giant gas field—the city with hell for a basement—was destroyed by a fireball from the heavens.
A joint U.S.–Canada team entered the crash site four days later when the fires finally died away. On strong insistence from the American President, the Canadians were asked to secure the area surrounding the crash site, and the Marines were ordered to enter the alien craft first.
The hull of the ship had been compromised, and there were no survivors. Within minutes of entering the alien craft, each of the Marines reported seeing momentary flashes of light and feeling a sudden and persistent euphoria. The doctors would come to call this reaction to alien exposure “the spike.”
The Expanding Universe 4: Space Adventure, Alien Contact, & Military Science Fiction (Science Fiction Anthology) Page 21
