The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1)

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The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1) Page 7

by Chris Dietzel


  Modred rolled his eyes. When Hotspur didn’t offer a reply, Modred turned to see what his captain might say next. Only then did he realize the only other person still in the room was the king, and so he was essentially alone.

  18

  The Griffin Fire moved directly upward, out of the station where Vere had paid to dock her ship. For a brief moment, everyone aboard could see the seedy underworld of bars, brothels, hangouts, and gambling halls below them. A second later they were passing through the containment barrier protecting the colony from the rest of Folliet-Bright, and then they were out amongst the planet’s neon clouds. Only an instant later, they were enveloped by black space. Behind them, Folliet-Bright went from being a giant sphere of land with scattered colonies arranged at various places on its surface, to being the size of a human head, and then to a pin prick of color in the black reaches of space.

  Completely healed (for the second time), Fastolf sat at a table where he tried his best to teach Baldwin a card game. Every time he explained a new rule for how the game was supposed to be played he also insisted that they make the game more fun by betting on who would win. To his credit, Baldwin declined each offer, which only caused Fastolf to groan and shake his head.

  Traskk did his best to help Pistol fix one of the Griffin Fire’s radar systems. Every once in a while the giant reptile reappeared from within the ship’s inner workings, growling and slithering his tongue in and out of his mouth, before receiving more instructions from the android and then disappearing back into the ship’s mechanical room with a different set of tools.

  Occulus knew Vere well enough to know that when she and A’la Dure were piloting the ship they didn’t want any distractions. Fastolf had barged into the cockpit one time and had yanked on Vere’s shoulder to get her attention. It hadn’t mattered to her that he was in one of his drunken stupors. The next time Occulus saw the court jester, one of his eyes was swollen and purple and he was sulking in the back of the ship, taking turns between asking what he’d done wrong and hiccupping.

  That left him at a side table with Morgan. For a while, as the ship flew through space, she remained silent, staring out the nearest window at the expanse of stars, probably wondering where her own ship was and daydreaming of all the ways she would hurt the crook who had stolen it. Occulus turned his thoughts to the Green Knight and what Vere would do about her father’s declining health and the war the king was supposedly intent on starting before he died.

  Life wasn’t predictable. If it were, all of the pain could be avoided. Along with it, though, all of the joy. And yet he had known for a long time that when someone became completely calm, allowing silence to engulf them, a clearer understanding could be attained of what life might have in store. As he tried this now, slowing his breath and trying to think about nothing rather than everything, he still couldn’t guess if Vere would even be alive in seven days, let alone everyone else on the ship. Not to mention everyone living on the planets ruled by Vere’s father. Seven days from now, they might all be dead... including everyone aboard the Griffin Fire.

  “Has she always been like this?”

  Occulus blinked back into awareness of himself and his surroundings on the ship. Even though Morgan was staring out at the vastness of space, she had been talking to him about their pilot, the king’s daughter.

  “No,” he said quietly, ensuring Baldwin and Fastolf wouldn’t hear him from across the room. “She didn’t used to be anything like this. You wouldn’t recognize the person she was six years ago from the person she is today.”

  “What happened?”

  He looked behind him to make sure the cockpit door was closed so Vere couldn’t overhear him. The beating Fastolf had taken for bumping into her while she piloted the ship would pale in comparison to what she would do if she knew someone was sharing her secrets.

  He started the only way he could, by asking a question: “Where were you six years ago?”

  “In the academy,” Morgan said. “I’d just gotten done with basic training and was testing to be an officer.”

  “Vere is almost the same age as you. But she didn’t have the option of a normal life. She had one path in front of her and one path only: to take over as ruler of the kingdom when her father passed away.”

  “Tough life,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “I feel so sorry for her.”

  Instead of acknowledging the sarcasm and defending his friend, Occulus said, “Sometimes the toughest thing isn’t passing physical tests or doing better than everyone else. There are people all around you with problems you never know about. Sometimes they’re minor, seemingly trivial. Sometimes they’re incredible weights to bear. The things that would break another person are often so well hidden that you never even know someone is suffering.”

  “Let me guess, her crown weighed too much and hurt her neck. Or the royal robes they had to wear would have clashed with her eyes.”

  “You really dislike her,” Occulus said.

  “She’s had everything handed to her. She had the life every kid dreams of, and she threw it away to be a thief in some dirty bar. Meanwhile, everyone else is suffering because the lunatics are running the insane asylum.”

  “You mean her father, the king?”

  Morgan laughed. “I wish. From everything I’ve heard he hasn’t been well enough to lead a kingdom in years.” She nodded toward the cockpit and toward Vere. “Modred. Her brother—”

  “Step-brother,” Occulus corrected.

  Morgan shook her head and sighed, and Occulus saw that she and Vere had at least one thing in common: neither had much patience for those they disagreed with.

  “Whatever. Modred and Lady Percy have been running things. With Hotspur all too happy to follow their bidding if it means a chance at glory.”

  “I’ve heard that about Hotspur.”

  “You’ve heard it; I’ve seen it. Don’t forget, I was his top lieutenant. He’s a liability.”

  On the other side of the room, Fastolf laughed as he flipped his cards over. Whatever cards he had were obviously good because Baldwin frowned and pushed a coin across the table.

  Occulus said, “I thought you weren’t going to play for money.”

  Baldwin shrugged. “It was easier to give in than keep having him pester me about it.”

  “Don’t pay that bag of trash,” Morgan called out.

  Fastolf taunted her by wiggling his butt in his seat.

  “He’s cheating,” she told Baldwin. “He has a card up his sleeve. Literally.”

  Fastolf slid his arm back from the table but it was too late. Baldwin saw the colored tip of a card protruding from Fastolf’s sleeve and groaned. Without asking for his coin back, he pushed the rest of his cards to the middle of the table and left the room. Fastolf didn’t seem concerned that his opponent was gone. To the contrary, he belched and, with a grin, flicked the coin back and forth between his fingers. After he was sure Baldwin was gone, he held up a leather pouch.

  “No matter,” the joker said, “he’ll come back when he realizes he left his money here.”

  Morgan growled and made a fist. “He didn’t leave it. You took it.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?” Fastolf said, chuckling. Happy with himself, he put his feet up on the table and soon fell asleep.

  “Why is the rightful heir to the kingdom hanging around with a mess like that?” Morgan asked Occulus.

  “She met him as soon as she left Edsall Dark. She said that as soon as she got to Folliet-Bright there were people everywhere trying to steal her ship, steal her sword, steal her money, steal anything and everything they could get their hands on. Pistol was the only one with her then. She probably could have handled herself. I’m sure she would have loved pulling out her Chameleon blade and daring anyone to take it from her. Fastolf saw the scum all around her and decided to try and help. He could have stolen her ship or anything aboard it, but he never did. They’ve been inseparable ever since. I know he’s rough around the edges, but he would
do anything for her.”

  “As long as she keeps supplying him with drinks,” Morgan said, but Occulus didn’t respond. A moment later she said, “The king remarried six years ago. That’s why Vere left Edsall Dark, because her mother died and her father remarried? Give me a break, that happens to a lot of—”

  “No,” Occulus said, fixing his eyes on her and not blinking. It was the look a teacher gave a misbehaving student, a look that said Stop speaking if you don’t know what you’re talking about.

  “Then what?”

  “Quite frankly, I don’t think it matters what the reason was. I think you have your mind made up about who Vere is and what type of person she is. Nothing I say will make a difference.” Morgan started to protest but Occulus put his hand up. “If you go through life living by the first impressions you’ve formed of people you’ll find yourself surrounded by no one you can trust and no one you like.”

  Fastolf, asleep, took turns between whimpering and laughing. There was no telling what kind of dream the man could be having that would elicit such a response.

  Occulus nodded toward the man. “He’s a thief and a cheat and a drunk. But he’s a true friend to her, and he’s someone she can trust. The same goes for Vere—she might join Fastolf in thieving and drinking, but if you give her a chance she’ll surprise you.”

  Morgan shook her head, saw Occulus’s eyebrows raise, then forced her lips shut until she could contain herself.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll try to withhold judgment and give her the benefit of the doubt. Tell me why she left.”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “How do you know?”

  He looked at the muscles in her neck, above her collar, as well as the way her hands never made inconsequential movements because anything other than following orders was beaten out of every cadet early on in their military training.

  “Someone like you, who has spent her entire career fighting and training for war, wouldn’t understand the problems of a romantic.”

  Instead of taking offense, Morgan smiled. “Someone like me? Who’s making judgments now?”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Morgan laughed. “And a romantic? Music and flowers?”

  He looked behind him to make sure the cockpit was still closed. “Not romance. A romantic. An idealist who wears their emotions on their sleeve.” When Morgan shrugged, he added, “She had her heart broken. Her father wanted her to marry someone else. Her mother died and the king immediately remarried. It was too much for one person to handle all at once.”

  He waited for Morgan to laugh, but the woman across from him only waited for more information. Maybe having your heart broken or being disappointed by loved ones was so universal that even soldiers could understand it.

  He said, “Ever since she was a little kid, her best friend was a boy named Galen. They were inseparable. Every day after their school work was done, they would sneak off into the forests or fields. Growing up, she probably spent more time with him than anyone else. When they became teenagers, instead of growing apart, the way a lot of friends tend to do, they became even closer. There wasn’t anything they didn’t do together or anyplace they weren’t seen together. Even her own mother and father didn’t see her as much as that boy.”

  “Let me guess: she wasn’t allowed to see him at a certain age because her father was king?”

  Whether it was fair or not, there was a tradition as old as the kingdoms themselves that the heir to a throne could seal an alliance by way of an arranged marriage.

  “No,” he said. “The boy—the young man by that time, I suppose, disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  He nodded. “Disappeared.”

  “Like, vanished?”

  “Yes,” Occulus said, and then, with a wry grin, “Like, vanished.”

  “Her father wouldn’t have had the boy killed.” It was intended to be a statement but came out sounding more like Morgan was asking a question.

  “It wasn’t like that. She told her father she would give up everything—the crown, the kingdom—if he could bring Galen back.”

  “I’m sure the king took that well,” Morgan said with a laugh.

  “You know what? He did. Because he knew his daughter and he knew she was telling the truth and he wanted her to be happy.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Nobody could find Galen. He was just... gone.”

  “Nobody just disappears.”

  “Very few people,” Occulus corrected.

  They both knew the one reason that people on Edsall Dark whispered about when people did disappear. The Word. No one knew what it was or if it was real. No one knew anyone who had joined the organization—a secret society that might not even be a real thing. And yet the few times over the centuries that someone did vanish, it was always whispered that the person had chosen the Word. And that as soon as they had joined the group, they had simply vanished.

  Morgan cringed when she said, “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  Occulus shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I believe or don’t believe. What matters is that one day Galen was there, the love of her life, and the next day he was gone. What mattered even more was that her father decided soon after that if she didn’t have someone she actually wanted to marry, she might as well marry someone to unite the kingdoms.”

  Morgan frowned. “The man who was previously understanding suddenly wanted to marry her off?”

  “It was one of the only mistakes he ever made. It wasn’t because he didn’t love her. He did. It’s just that he was too practical sometimes and she was too idealistic. Either way, it was the worst thing he could have suggested, given the circumstances. Only a month earlier, Vere’s mother had died. Then Galen disappeared. Then he immediately remarried. All at once, the life Vere had known was gone.”

  “So she just left?”

  “She didn’t just leave, she abandoned every part of her old life. Do you think it’s a coincidence that she went from living on Edsall Dark to deciding to live on Folliet-Bright? Whether she realized it or not, she was trying to get as far away from her old life as possible. Even the name of the planet.”

  Morgan sighed. “From exploring forests and fields to drinking and stealing?”

  “It’s not the best life,” he agreed, “but it could be worse.” He looked over his shoulder at the closed cockpit door. “There’s still hope for her, though.”

  When Morgan laughed this time, it was free of derision and was completely innocent. “She’ll be missing her head in seven days, if she even lives that long.”

  “We’ll see.”

  A thought occurred to Morgan then. “How do you know all of this about her?”

  Before he could answer, an alarm beeped twice. Fastolf stumbled awake, wiping drool off his chin. Traskk, Baldwin, and Pistol appeared from the depths of the misshapen craft.

  The cockpit door opened. A’la Dure and Vere were in their seats, their backs to everyone else until Vere swiveled to face them.

  “You’re going to want to see this,” she said.

  The group made their way into the cramped confines of the cockpit and its array of controls and panels. In front of them, out the main viewport of the Griffin Fire, was an assortment of curved windows, each one connected by slivers of metal, arranged so that the pilot and co-pilot had a nearly one hundred and eighty degree view of the space in front of them.

  The ship had come up on a planet. A red mass of dust and rock. Moray, the fifth planet from the system’s sun, owned three small moons and contained the largest quantity of colonies of any planet in the CasterLan Kingdom. Because of the planet’s soil and atmosphere, it was fairly easy to build containment fields over vast swaths of the land. Nearly half the planet had been turned from a red hulk of dry dirt to cities teeming with grass, fields, homes, and spaceports.

  But now, instead of ships landing and taking off on their way to and from every other place in the galax
y, instead of humans and aliens growing every imaginable crop, there was nothing.

  A magnification of one of the colonies popped up on the glass in front of the Griffin Fire’s cockpit. The containment field was gone. Red dust, previously kept at bay, was blowing across the farms and ships and everything else. All signs of life were gone. People and aliens alike were scattered about where they had been when the containment field was disrupted and the naturally inhospitable environment rapidly reclaimed its property. The population down there had been of every skin color and every species. Now, under the blowing red dust, they were uniform in their deaths. Where there was once a city full of life, now not a single thing moved. Already, the planet that had been half red and half a collection of every other imaginable color was being blanketed under crimson dust.

  The image of the destroyed colony was replaced by another colony on the same planet. This one was also decimated. Image after image appeared in front of them on the Griffin Fire’s cockpit display. Each one was of a colony without life. Each one showed red dirt spreading across the remnants of civilization.

  “My god,” Baldwin said. “The heavens are on fire.”

  Occulus put a hand on Vere’s shoulder and asked what happened.

  Above the planet, a dozen glowing lines changed shape as the Griffin Fire angled around Moray. Each line of pixelated floating dots became a square of colors. As the ship curved further around and their perspective changed again, it became apparent that all twelve squares of glowing light revealed the exact same thing. A purple bird of prey, its beak and claws dripping with blood. Once the purple war hawk came into sight, gold and red behind it to form the rest of the colored square of light, they each knew exactly what it meant.

  Hotspur had left a single crest behind after destroying the Ornewllian Compact. Above the destroyed colony, there were a dozen.

  “The Vonnegan fleet was here,” she said. “This is only the beginning.”

  19

  The fleet of Athens Destroyers moved slightly away from Mentieth-B. Behind the formation of one hundred ships, another planet had been erased of all signs of life. Instead of an active civilization, there was only the remains of a city that anthropologists might one day excavate.

 

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