The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1)

by Chris Dietzel

  The remaining ship gave a loud whine as it curved in a semicircle to face the Llyushin fighter. It was only able to fire three cannon shots, all of which were absorbed by the Llyushin’s armor, before it too exploded into a ball of flames. Instead of disintegrating, this ship broke into three large pieces that each sailed off into the distance before causing minor explosions in the Forest of Tears.

  The Llyushin fighter came to a stop near Vere and Morgan. The noise from its engine was deafening and made the ground shake. With the ship remaining five feet off the ground, the ship’s ramp immediately descended to the ground. Traskk and Fastolf came running out of the forest. Baldwin finally climbed out from behind the rock he had been hiding behind. Pistol, with no sense of urgency, followed only because it was where Vere had gone.

  Inside the ship, Vere and Morgan found a dark corridor and no one to greet them. They followed the passage to the cockpit.

  A lone man was there, hovering two feet above the floor. Both of his legs were gone. His hips rested on top of a disc of energy that was fastened around his waist with a harness. The man’s shoulder’s were twice as broad as Fastolf’s belly. His arms were as thick as the base of Traskk’s tail. When he heard them behind him, the disc of energy revolved slightly, causing the man to spin and face them.

  “Hector,” Vere said. “Thank you.”

  “Sir,” Morgan said, looking downward in deference.

  “Looked like you could use some help,” the man said.

  A beeping started on the controls next to him. When he leaned forward, the disc of energy underneath his hips moved him toward the displays.

  “Two more ships incoming,” he said. “More bounty hunters.”

  After a quick check to make sure everyone was aboard, he pressed a button and the ship’s ramp slammed shut. As soon as it was up, he pushed forward on the throttle and the Llyushin fighter began zooming across the open field.

  “Thank you,” Vere said again. “We never would have gotten back to my father in time if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “You haven’t heard?” Hector said, not looking behind him. When he didn’t receive an answer he added, “I’m sorry, Vere. Your father died last night.”

  55

  “How much longer does he have to be here?” Modred said.

  Behind him, the king’s body lay in the same position it had been in for the weeks leading up to his death. Only now, in addition to the finely adorned sheet that covered his body, covering everything up to his neck, an abundance of flowers was also spread around him.

  The king’s skin had turned a grayish blue, which made him look more like an android than the former ruler of the CasterLan Kingdom. It didn’t help that the surrounding flowers were every possible shade of reds and oranges and purples and every other color—all of which contrasted with king’s lifeless, ashen skin.

  “It’s their custom,” his mother said. “They leave deceased rulers unburied for a week as a sign of respect.” She paused. “Usually, the people are free to come and pay their respects. Thousands of them line up to pay tribute to their king.”

  Modred gave a snide laugh. “Can’t someone at least move him out of here?”

  “Out of his own chamber?”

  “They aren’t his chambers! He’s dead!”

  “Modred,” Lady Percy said, walking toward him. But when her hand came within inches of caressing his cheek, he growled and moved away from her. “Modred,” she said, “what has become of you?”

  “The people need a stronger ruler. Look at what their king has gotten them into. They are about to be invaded. The Vonnegan fleet can destroy this entire planet if they want to. This is not the time to mourn a dead king.”

  “Son,” she said softly.

  He turned and looked at her, locks of blond hair moving away from his eyes to reveal how much anger they contained. “The king is dead. You were married to him. And I’m your son, so I should be—”

  “Modred…”

  “I should be leading Edsall Dark.”

  “Modred,” she said again, but her son turned his back and walked away.

  56

  “The king was sick for quite a while,” Hector said as his ship raced across the fields of Aromath the Solemn.

  “It took longer than I thought it would for me to get back here,” Vere mumbled.

  Morgan couldn’t be certain whether Vere was referring to the bounty hunters and the Griffin Fire crashing beyond the mountains, or if she was talking about losing six years of her life in the slums of Folliet-Bright. Rather than make a snide comment in front of Hector, she remained silent.

  The man piloting the ship was the only person in Morgan’s life whom she considered to be a real life hero. He was also the only person Hotspur regarded as not only an equal, but—and he would never admit this—his superior in every way.

  All of their lives, Hector and Hotspur had been friendly rivals, each driving the other to greater heights of military achievement. In every contest, Hotspur did well; Hector did better. At their time in the academy together, Hector had broken every physical fitness record without even attempting to do so. He was promoted to officer sooner than Hotspur. He was given command of a Solar Carrier earlier, too. After Hotspur took a Solar Carrier through the Eiji-77 Portal to defeat a group of rogue traders, Hector commanded six Solar Carriers to quash the Sai-Hoku rebellion, suffering only minor losses.

  Eight years ago, however, Hector had lost both of his legs when the Solar Carrier he was commanding had come under attack at the outskirts of the Alchemite Rim—a group of three colonies rebelling against the king. It was only by luck that he had managed to live; most of his crew hadn’t. When he got home, rather than be fitted with bionic legs which would have been stronger and faster than even the record-setting pair he had lost, he chose to remain legless as a reminder of what war could do. Not even Hotspur, his best friend, could convince him to return to duty after that.

  Instead of android legs, Hector had chosen to sit atop a gravity pod, a disc of energy that allowed him to move where he wanted. Instead of remaining in the CasterLan military, he had quit his post and refused even to take a position teaching cadets at the academy. Rather than instruct the next generation of pilots and commanders, he made it a point to tell anyone who would listen that war was never necessary. To make his point, he challenged them to look at him hovering a few feet off the ground and remember all of the men and women whose corpses were floating aimlessly in space.

  At the same time Hector had turned his back on war, Hotspur had become addicted to it. For the first time in his life, he had seen what he interpreted as weakness in Hector. The man who had been better at everything had witnessed the horrors of space battle and had not only flinched, he had surrendered. The thought drove Hotspur to seek greater glory, and greater glory meant more battles, more victories, more ruthlessness.

  Before Hector had nearly been killed and ultimately quit the CasterLan military, Hotspur had been driven, yet subdued. After Hector was gone, however, a change came over Hotspur. He became impatient. Vicious. He had less and less concern for the lives and safety of those around him, and even himself. The only thing that mattered was finally being the best at something.

  Over time, he had become a monster. The last time Hector had seen his old friend, he recognized his face, but everything else about him had changed. Morgan had experienced the same thing. Hotspur had gone from being her mentor to a bloodthirsty killer. Day after day, she saw his brutality increase, mostly to the enemy, but also to his own men. It had been one of the reasons she got to Folliet-Bright so quickly after the Ornewllian Compact had been attacked. There was no longer any guessing what Hotspur was capable of. If his king ordered Hotspur to lay waste to CamaLon, Morgan didn’t doubt he would do it.

  “Do you have a plan?” Hector asked Vere.

  “What do you mean?” she said, ignoring the smug I-told-you-we-needed-a-plan look that Morgan was giving her.

  “For all of these bounty h
unters to be coming after you, someone must have put a significant bounty on your head. Not many people have that much money, and most who do wouldn’t have an interest one way or the other if you return to Edsall Dark. Combine that with the fact that there was an order for no one to leave the protected sectors of the planet until the curfew was lifted.”

  “That was why no one came to rescue us?”

  Hector nodded.

  Morgan said, “But you did.”

  He turned and looked at her. When he did, he squinted ever so slightly, looking at each feature of her face. Probably, he recognized her from years earlier as one of Hotspur’s former lieutenants and wondered whose side she was on now.

  “I don’t think anyone is going to tell me I broke their curfew,” he said, his arms so big it looked like he could rip the ship’s metal controls in half if he wanted.

  “Will we be safe once we get back to the city?” Morgan asked.

  The M-model Llyushin fighter flew in a direct line toward CamaLon and the mighty wall protecting the capital. Because they were flying over rolling hills, at times the ship was fifty feet above a valley floor, and other times no more than two or three feet above the apex of a hill. It roared over the fields, traveling hundreds of times faster than Vere and the others could have walked.

  Hector scratched at his chin, considering the question, and said, “I would think so. It’s one thing for bounty hunters to try and get you out in the open. But no one in Edsall Dark, even under direct order, would let Vere fall under attack once you all get through the gates.”

  “Is Hotspur behind this?”

  He turned and looked at Morgan. His massive block-shaped head was larger than most ships’ cannons.

  “I would like to think not,” he said. “And anyway, it would make no sense if he were.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s assembling the fleet. He’s the one who will be facing the Athens Destroyers when they get here. Honestly, the ships in the CasterLan fleet are no match for what’s going to be coming through that portal. He must realize that.”

  As if on cue, a beep sounded and a holographic display in the cockpit showed an image of the portal above Edsall Dark. The very middle of the Tevis-84 portal was black instead of blazing white. The black tip grew bigger and bigger, from something barely noticeable to taking up five percent of the portal, to ten percent, to twenty, to a third of the entire circle of energy.

  “Heavens,” Baldwin said, aghast.

  “No,” Vere groaned.

  Morgan and Hector watched it in silence.

  An Athens Destroyer. The first ship in the Vonnegan fleet was coming through the portal above Edsall Dark’s atmosphere. As the Llyushin fighter raced across the planet, they watched in horror as the ship appeared all the way through the portal. As soon as it did, another ship began coming through. Then another.

  “Why isn’t Hotspur attacking them?” Morgan asked.

  Hector shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he has a plan.”

  “Why isn’t the capital deploying the air defenses?”

  Again, Hector could only shake his head.

  57

  From the captain’s deck of his Solar Carrier, Hotspur stared at the portal and at the Vonnegan ships passing through it. He should have been allowed to go and meet the Athens Destroyers away from Edsall Dark. A battle this close to their own planet was insanity. He should have followed his gut and carried out what he had known was the better plan of action rather than listening to Modred.

  If anyone on the deck had said a single word at that moment, he would have killed them. He turned and looked at the officers around him, daring them to say something, but they all knew him well enough to keep silent and not even make eye contact.

  Another Athens Destroyer came through the portal. Then another.

  “Lieutenant, how many of our ships are ready?”

  “Ready, sir?” the lieutenant said, grimacing as he spoke.

  Both of Hotspur’s gloved hands curled into fists. “Ready for war!”

  His fists were clenched so tightly that the plating of his space armor creaked, causing the lieutenant to involuntarily flinch.

  “Sir, we are under orders from Modred not to fire until he gives the command.”

  Some part of Hotspur suspected this was going to be the officer’s response. He had seen the same message come across the screens an hour earlier. It had made him laugh then. The absurdity of it. But now, seeing his men actually entertain the idea of following Modred’s command rather than his own made him wish he’d killed Modred in the king’s chambers when he had the chance.

  “Modred is not in charge of the fleet,” he said. He looked around the deck for anyone to confirm or dispute this, but everyone kept their eyes down. “Is he?” he screamed.

  “No, sir,” most of the officers said.

  “We should have met them out in open space when we had the chance.” No one argued with this idea. “If we wait for the entire fleet to get through the portal, we will all die.” No one disputed this either. “Then why are we letting them pass through as if they were our guests?”

  He slammed his fist down on the nearest control panel, breaking it off the wall and sending it across the room. Another Athens Destroyer came through the portal. And another.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Hotspur took two quick steps, reached out and took the man’s neck within his open hand. The energy in his space armor crackled. Hotspur’s back and shoulders flexed. The lieutenant’s neck made a sickly crumbling noise as the bones were pulverized.

  Hotspur held the dead lieutenant in place, still on his feet, until a pair of bots came and took the body away.

  At least now it made sense why CamaLon’s air defense system wasn’t being used. Modred had told the command room to wait until he gave the order. Maybe he would give the command and maybe he wouldn’t. If he did, though, Hotspur knew one thing: it would be too late by then.

  “Commander Dire?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Ready the cannons.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Commander?” he said, looking at yet another Athens Destroyer appearing from the portal.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Tell all of our ships to do the same. If any of them sends back a communication saying they are waiting for Modred to give the orders, tell them I will personally set this ship’s cannons to begin firing at them rather than the Vonnegan fleet. I’ll kill them all before any Athens Destroyer ever gets the chance. Am I making myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  58

  “Five minutes until we arrive,” Hector said.

  As the Llyushin fighter continued to speed across Edsall Dark’s terrain, Pistol said, “There is now a thirty-two percent chance we arrive before war breaks out.”

  “What happened to your eight percent?” Fastolf taunted.

  “Circumstances change.”

  “Maybe you should keep your stupid opinions to yourself.”

  The android didn’t acknowledge this comment.

  “I don’t want to hurt your android feelings,” Morgan called from the cockpit, “and I hate to agree with the portly thief, but if you haven’t noticed there are already Vonnegan ships coming through the portal.”

  Pistol’s eyes glowed as an endless series of computations were processed. “The first shot has not been fired,” he said. “There is still a chance to prevent the war.”

  Above them, another Athens Destroyer appeared through the portal.

  Baldwin shook his head. “Some chance.”

  Traskk’s tail moved back and forth in anticipation of everything that might happen once they got off the ship. The claws on both of his feet tapped the metal floor, clacking over and over.

  “I wish Occulus and A’la Dure were here,” Fastolf said.

  This made the reptile offer a sad groan.

  “Brace yourselves,” a voice said over the intercom. The
ship immediately shook and creaked, the sounds of explosions going off all around them.

  At the front of the ship, Morgan had taken a seat next to where Hector’s chair would have been if he used one.

  “Two more ships,” she told Vere. “Both are small Fire-Brand fighters.”

  The two ships were identical. Both curved upward and outward, making it look as if three waves of water had been frozen in place before being attached all around the cockpit.

  Hector nodded and shifted the ship’s controls slightly, choosing to slow the vessel down rather than attempt to outmaneuver the laser blasts that would be incoming. Neither woman questioned him, knowing he had been in and won more battles than they would ever wish upon their worst enemies.

  The pair of bounty hunters moved into attack position, behind and slightly above Hector’s ship. Seeing them in place, he throttled the ship again, giving them a chance to remain in targeting position a little while longer. A series of laser blasts hit the backside of the Llyushin but were absorbed by its armor. In response, Hector released a pair of gravity mines, waited two seconds, then fired a single proton torpedo. If anyone else were trying to return fire in that fashion, Morgan would have told them there was no way either weapon would have a chance to work. The gravity mine needed an open area to be effective. The proton torpedo’s guidance would be affected by the pull of the gravity mines. But then, on the monitors in front of the cockpit, Hector reaffirmed to both women that he knew exactly what he was doing. The gravity mines engaged. A shockwave of energy rushed away from the mine’s black middle. Instead of pulling themselves toward the nearest bounty hunter’s ship, the two mines pulled the proton torpedo off its original course and into an unnatural ninety-degree turn. A split second later the torpedo hit one of the Fire-Brand fighters. The ship continued on in the same path as the Llyushin fighter, but it trailed a stream of flames and smoke behind it as it did so. At the same time, it kept losing altitude until finally hitting the ground and erupting into a ball of fire.