The Excalibur (Space Lore Book 2) (17 page)

These days, however, the only people who died in portals died accidentally, and only because of faulty or damaged tinder walls on their ships.

The lead engineer, who ensured the portal itself was perfectly safe, sent a comms message: “No one remaining in open space. Everyone accounted for. Portal activation in ten, nine, eight…”

“This is fascinating,” Pistol said. Although it was impossible for him to inject any emotion into the words he spoke, he too hadn’t left the cockpit for a single moment so as not to miss something.

Morgan got the impression that, whereas she was interested in seeing this for her own curiosity, Pistol was recording the moment for history’s sake.

“Seven, six, five…”

Since the very first pair of portals had been constructed hundreds of years earlier, people had been writing songs and painting pictures of what was going to happen next. For Morgan, it was the only moment in her life that compelled her to do something other than learn how to fight or to lead forces into battle. Nothing else in the galaxy could compare to those two things. Until now.

“Four, three, two…”

Instead of saying
one
, there was a moment of silence. In that instant, it was as if time paused. Nothing happened. Everything was perfectly quiet.

Then Morgan saw it. A single dot of light, as small as a drop of water but impossibly bright, appeared from each of the three hundred and sixty cylinders. The drops of energy all moved exactly in line with each other, toward the center of the portal and the small sphere of light there. The moment they reached the glowing sphere at the center, all of space became a blur of brilliant white light. Everything, even the space to her right and left, was nothing but white. It was as if a sun were forming right in front of her. Morgan had to put a hand up to block the light from her eyes. Every part of the Pendragon’s cockpit looked as though a thousand spotlights were pointed at it.

The portal was activating. Once it was calibrated to connect with another portal, any ship with working tinder walls could disappear into this light and reappear someplace else in the galaxy. Likewise, now ships from all across the universe could come to the CasterLan Kingdom. They were no longer cut off from the rest of the galaxy.

After a minute, the initial burst of intense light faded and was replaced by the localized glow that was contained within the portal ring. The portal’s energy was in the process of stabilizing. Sparks of white energy, almost liquid in the way they moved and reacted, bounced against each other and against the portal’s cylinders. More energy was being created within that field than the explosive power of every Solar Carrier that could be built in the next decade.

The bursts of white energy continued erupting against each other, fighting for space within the confines of the portal ring. With nowhere to go and with the energy having filled the entire circle, the portal had become a steady pool of energy, a door into another part of the galaxy.

The engineer’s voice said across the comms, “We’ll do some tests to make sure it works properly, but everything we’re seeing here shows that it should be fine.”

“Very good,” Morgan said. “Let me know when you complete the tests.” Then, turning to Pistol, she added, “As soon as I know it’s ready I’m going to begin assembling the entire fleet here for the final battle.”

In less than five days, this spot of space, above a desert moon and next to the newest portal in the entire galaxy, was where the fates would determine who would live and who would die and which fleet would be victorious.

A Portal
, by Tim Barton - Digital Art

36

 
“My Lord,” Mowbray’s first in command said. “We are receiving a communication from General Stormson in the lead Athens Destroyer.”

“Put him through.”

The three-dimensional holographic image of a Vonnegan general appeared, standing in front of the windows of one of the Commander Class Athens Destroyers.

“My Lord, we are being given orders not to pass through this space. We are being told that if we continue, we will be attacked.”

Anyone else with two hundred Athens Destroyers at his disposal would have burst into laughter at such a statement, but Mowbray only raised his eyebrows and asked who was giving the orders.

“The warlord Zoo-Rahn, My Lord.”

“We are passing through his territory?”

“According to him, yes, My Lord.”

Mowbray nodded. Rather than being insulted by a local warlord making such extravagant threats, Mowbray appreciated ambition when he saw it. These remote sectors were lawless until someone with an iron fist forced them to live under their rule. If Zoo-Rahn didn’t stand his ground, even if it was against the entire Vonnegan fleet, everyone else would see that he had backed down. And as soon as that happened, another warlord would challenge him for his territory.

“Continue ahead, General,” Mowbray said. “Do what you must.”

Respecting ambition was one thing. Giving into it was another.

Out the viewport of his Supreme Athens Destroyer, Mowbray saw faint flashes of light at the front of his fleet of ships. Zoo-Rahn had followed through with his threat and was attacking the first Vonnegan ships as they entered his territory.

“Good for him” Mowbray said to no one. “He would have made a fine Vonnegan general.”

The flashes of light—the battle—was over as quickly as it had started. Mowbray guessed that only four or five of his Destroyers had been given the opportunity to participate in the destruction of Zoo-Rahn’s forces before every fighter belonging to the warlord had been turned into space junk.

By the time his Supreme Destroyer passed by where the battle had briefly taken place, there were only pieces of seared and bent metal floating in space. Nothing else was there to indicate what had happened other than the Vonnegan warhawk flags floating in space in front of the destroyed vessels.

Any other ships that passed through the area would know who was responsible for the deaths that had occurred there. A series of local wars would now be waged between various thugs, each vying to claim Zoo-Rahn’s territory as his own. But no matter which warlord it was, they too would know that if Athens Destroyers came through this part of the sector again, the warlord would be smart to allow them to pass without a single cannon shot being fired.

None of that mattered to Mowbray, though. The Vonnegan fleet continued ahead, moving closer and closer to its ultimate target.

37

“I’m sorry,” Fastolf said in the loud, boisterous tone he used every time he got in trouble. “I’m so sorry.”

For the people who received this apology, it wasn’t how he almost shouted the insincere words, it was that he had a smirk each time he offered them.

Vere grabbed him by his shirt collar so he couldn’t keep bouncing from one foot to the other. The maddening smile immediately disappeared.

“This isn’t stealing some money or getting into a bar fight,” she said. “Quickly lost his arm. He’s lucky he didn’t lose his life.”

“I know! I’m really sorry.”

She pushed him as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, hitting his head against one of the medical transport’s metal storage bins.

“Stop saying that. You say you’re sorry for minor things. For mishaps. You don’t say you’re sorry when you almost get two people killed.”

Fastolf opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Quickly was sedated and back at the Griffin Fire’s medical bay, but Baldwin and Traskk were both standing behind Vere to see what would happen.

Seeing the physician there, Fastolf directed his attention to the one man who forgave everyone and who never held a grudge. If he could just convince Baldwin that everything was okay, Vere would have to forgive him as well.

“Buddy!” Fastolf said, stepping by Vere.

But when a hand came to pat Baldwin on the shoulder, the physician stepped away.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that,” Fastolf said, a tiny belch sneaking out of his throat as he spoke. “It was an accident. It won’t happen again.”

“An accident?” Baldwin said, sounding confused.

Vere also repeated the question. When it was her time to do so, however, there was no confusion, only anger. “Allowing you to come here was an accident. Putting you in a situation where the health and safety of other people were at stake was an accident.”

“Vere—”

“Giving you any responsibility at all was an accident.”

“Come on, Vere, don’t—”

She motioned for him to be silent. “Taking you off Eastcheap with us was an accident. We should have just left you there. The rest of us were biding our time. You were the only one who belonged there.”

“You stole just as many wallets as me! You got into just as many fights as I did!”

There was a glint of victory in his eye. She would defend herself and then he would say that she was just as much to blame as he was. He would remind her of how, just a few nights earlier, she had put on a disguise so she could sneak around the taverns in CamaLon and continue her rebellious ways.

Instead, Vere closed her eyes and shook her head.

“Morgan was right,” she said. Opening her eyes, she shook her head a second time. “Morgan was right about you.”

“Vere, it won’t happen again. I’ll shape up.”

“No, you won’t.”

That was when he started crying.

She had seen him become angry a handful of times. Even when he caused fights in Eastcheap it hadn’t been because he was mad. Rather, the havoc and chaos had entertained him. Nor did he care when people commented on his weight. He actually embraced it, chalking it up as proof that he was leading a happy life.

Only when someone questioned his integrity or stopped humoring him did he become upset or frustrated. Upset because he had no integrity and thus couldn’t defend himself. Frustrated because he thrived on the attention he got from his behavior.

Even less frequently had she seen him truly apologetic. He was always saying he was sorry for something or other, but almost never meant it.

But she had never seen him cry. There was a part of her—the part that had learned how to become an expert thief through his tutelage, the part that for six years had been able to ignore the problems back on Edsall Dark—that wanted to put her arms around him and laugh this off as the misunderstanding Fastolf was trying to make it out to be.

But no. Quickly lay in the medical bay, unconscious and missing an arm. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Baldwin and saw how furious he was. This man, who had never done a violent thing in his life, wanted to rip Fastolf’s fat head off. If Morgan were here, Fastolf would have received an instantaneous death sentence and already be cut into pieces on the floor of the ship. Vere knew there was no way that she could let this go.

“Do you know how lucky you are that I’m here and not Morgan?” she asked.

Baldwin, thinking she was going to forgive her friend, started to complain, but she held up a hand and he relented.

Fastolf, also thinking he was getting away with another error in judgment, laughed and said, “She’d probably bust up my pretty nose again.”

“No,” Vere said. “You’d be lucky if that was all she did. You’d be lucky if she only broke your nose a hundred times. No, she wouldn’t just punch you in the face. Honestly, she would kill you. What do you think happens to other CasterLan officers when they neglect their duty and people die on their watch?”

Except for Fastolf, the room fell completely silent.

“No,” Fastolf said in a pained cry. “Please stop.”

Not even Baldwin, still furious at almost dying on the asteroid, could say anything. Traskk would take Vere’s side in any fight, but he too had sat with Fastolf for six years of laughter and troublemaking, so he also kept quiet. His tail, covered in absurd looking space armor, sparked as it slid back and forth against the medical transport’s metal floor.

“Fastolf, Quickly needs more medical attention than the Griffin Fire can offer. You will take him back to Edsall Dark,” she said. “Baldwin, Traskk, and I will stay here and see if we can figure out some way to free the Excalibur Armada.”

“Okay!” Fastolf said, agreeing as fast as he could. “I’ll leave whenever you want.”

“That’s not all.” Vere wasn’t smiling. There was no trace of kindness on her face. “After you drop him off to the experts, you will turn yourself in to Cade.”

“What do you mean,
turn myself in
?” The question came out as a high-pitched whine.

Instead of answering, she only stared at him. He had no idea what she was thinking. Would she really have him locked away? Or worse, court-martialed?

“Vere, I—”

“You’ll do what I say. And you’ll do it right now. This is your chance to prove the type of person you are.” Turning to Traskk, she said, “Get Quickly from the Griffin Fire and bring him aboard.”

The giant reptile nodded and put his helmet back on.

Once he was gone, she turned to Baldwin and said, “See what this ship has in the way of medical supplies. Make sure it has enough to get Quickly back to Edsall Dark. Take whatever he won’t need and restock the Griffin Fire.”