The Excalibur (Space Lore Book 2) (20 page)

Without oxygen, no one out in space would be able to hear her, but if she called out from inside her helmet, maybe someone would sense she was there. It made her feel silly—yelling for someone to answer when the only two people within a light-year were Baldwin and Traskk. She did it anyway.

“If you’re out there, please show yourself. I’m running out of time.”

Any time she thought she saw something out of the ordinary—a secret door into the asteroid’s inner workings or a cave for someone to hide—it was nothing more than a trick of the light, a shadow cast over the rocks. Every time she inspected one of the ships, she found nothing but perfectly smooth sheets of metal. No doors to enter the vessels. Not even an insignia to note which ancient empire had constructed them. And definitely not a note to say why they had been abandoned.

“If you’re out there, whoever you are, I need your help.”

She hated saying she needed help, no matter whose help it was. It not only made her feel foolish. It made her feel weak. And now she was asking for help from someone who probably didn’t even exist.

With a growl, she punched the side of the vessel that was in front of her. Not even a loud thud sounded to demonstrate just how angry and frustrated she was. Not even a clang to ring out and let the galaxy know, or at least the people back on Edsall Dark who were depending on her, that she was trying her best to save them.

All of the strength went out of her. Looking down at the display on her wrist, she saw it was past time to begin walking back to the Griffin Fire. After letting out a long sigh, she let her chin fall to her chest, then began the walk in silence.

44

 
“How much longer until we tell her we have to leave?” Baldwin asked.

He and Traskk had gotten used to each other’s company. Without anything to do other than sit in the ship or go explore a section of the asteroid by themselves, they sat in the Griffin Fire and passed the time as best as they could. Baldwin read any books he could find while Traskk worked in the mechanical room, fixing old or unreliable equipment. When either of them got bored with their respective hobbies, they went and found the other and the two chatted for a while.

Traskk’s large reptilian eyes narrowed at Baldwin’s question.

“What I mean,” Baldwin said, “is that eventually we have to go home and get ready for the Vonnegan fleet. We can’t let her stay here while the battle unfolds, regardless of how stubborn she is.”

Traskk growled a series of noises. No matter how often they spoke, Baldwin was no closer to understanding Basilisk.

“Griffin Fire, enable displayed translations.”

Traskk grumbled the words again. A moment later they formed in the air in front of the physician as a hologram.

She is sure she can free the armada. I have faith in her.

Baldwin nodded and said, “I know. I trust her too. But no one has ever been able to free the Excalibur Armada yet, so how can we keep hoping that Vere will find a way in the next couple days?”

Traskk’s long claws clacked against the table while he spoke.

How many other people do you know who could survive a heads-off game with the Green Knight?

Baldwin didn’t answer, simply gave a polite smile. The Green Knight had only had an opportunity to take Vere’s head because she had been rash and immature. If the Green Knight had really wanted to, no matter if she was Vere CasterLan or not, he would have chopped her head off and left it on the floor of the Green Chapel. It had been dumb luck, maybe dumb courage, rather than a capacity to overcome insurmountable obstacles that had saved her life.

Of course, if he told Traskk this, he would get a better view of the Basilisk’s fangs than he wanted, so he opened the nearest book and began reading again.

45

Morgan greeted Westmoreland on Dela Turkomann’s surface. He was twice her age, had served in the military three decades longer than she had, but had never once questioned Vere’s decision to promote her as commander of all CasterLan forces rather than him.

“This is where you’ve chosen?” he said, looking around at the barren moon and the portal floating above it.

“It is.”

She expected him to suggest a different location.

Instead, he merely shrugged and said, “Seems as good a place as any other.”

There was a tone of fatigue when he spoke. She knew him well enough to know he wasn’t actually tired. Rather, he was resigned to his fate. For a general to be that way around his troops was worse than a plague. Morale plummeted. Everyone would either try to find a way to avoid the fight, either by going AWOL or by finding reasons to be declared medically unfit for combat, or else they stayed and fought, but without any real belief that they could win. And without that belief, they were simply waiting for death.

Morgan was currently the only person next to Westmoreland, though. And she knew he wouldn’t dare say such a thing in that fashion to one of his officers. He only said it to her because he considered her his peer. She also knew that even if he didn’t like their odds, he would fight alongside his soldiers until it wasn’t possible to fight anymore.

“When is Vere returning?” he asked.

“I wish I knew.”

“Before battle, the people need to see their leader amongst them.”

It was the closest he would come to disapproving of what Vere was doing. He would never chastise a CasterLan, no matter what they did. He came from the tradition of generals who accepted their rulers’ faults, even relished in them, because in those faults was proof that they were fallible, imperfect people, just like anyone else.

Morgan shrugged and said, “She’s got it in her head that the Excalibur Armada will save us.”

Westmoreland shook his head, the corner of his mouth curling up as he did so. “I can’t even remember how many of my classes had lessons about rulers who sought those ships for themselves. And none of them were successful.”

“Kanaida the Hopeful,” she said, “lost his entire sector because he prayed to his gods to bring him the armada, and the only ships that came to visit him were those of his brothers, who despised him.”

“More like, Kanaida the Imbecile,” Westmoreland said. “And don’t forget Crake the Blind and Justinian the Depressed.”

“He was known as Justinian the Optimist before being conquered and then killing himself. They still teach about all of those people at the academy today,” she said. “Along with the fact that none of them held on to their kingdoms for very long once the Excalibur became their only hope.”

Westmoreland shook his head. “And yet that is where Vere is.”

A sudden weight pushed down on Morgan’s shoulders and eyelids. It was the same despair that caused Westmoreland to sound like he needed sleep. Having identified it, she pushed it away and regained her composure.

“My plan is to move the fleet into position on the far side of the moon.”

Westmoreland nodded. “There won’t be enough electromagnetic disturbances to disrupt their systems. They’ll know exactly where our ships are when they approach.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “They won’t be there for the purpose of a surprise. I have the portal where it is because I want any army ready and willing to join our cause to come through when the fighting starts.”

She hadn’t discussed this with anyone other than Pistol yet. The android couldn’t betray her, and therefore didn’t count in terms of espionage. Knowing how many battles had been lost by plans being learned ahead of time, Morgan generally kept them to herself as long as she could.

Westmoreland considered her plan, then said, “When the Athens Destroyers turn to fight us, they’ll have ships appearing behind them through the portal?” He took in a long breath, then added, “Not bad, but not enough to defeat two hundred Athens Destroyers, plus the one hundred other ships Mowbray has with him. Unless Scrope pulls off a miracle.”

They had both received news of Peto’s return to Edsall Dark and also heard that Scrope had somehow convinced Arc-Mi-Die to provide his ships to the battle. The warlord’s arsenal wasn’t much compared to the CasterLan fleet of Solar Carriers, but every bit would help.

“What else?” Westmoreland asked.

“I want part of the main fleet to break away from the battle and enter the atmosphere here. If we can get enough ships near the ground, maybe we can get them to engage us down here.”

He frowned. “In addition to having more ships, they also have more troops than we do.”

“True, but I’m hoping we can get them to commit enough Athens Destroyers away from the main battle that we have better numbers out in space.”

“Reducing their numbers advantage as much as possible,” he said with a nod. “Makes sense.”

“That’s really all I have, besides flight formations and where we utilize our Llyushin fighters.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

After reviewing the limited, desperate strategy for defeating the Vonnegan fleet, Morgan replied with the same resigned tone Westmoreland had used only minutes earlier. “As good as any other, I guess.”

46

Darkness surrounded Scrope.

“Hello?” he said.

Upon landing at the gangster Ballona’s space dock, he had told the pilots to remain with their ships. He would go alone.

“If I’m not back in two hours, tell Vere to expect ransom negotiations.”

The security checks had begun as soon as he reached the first door. A pair of armored Turgdorians prodded him with the broad side of their daggers, making sure he wasn’t trying to sneak in a weapon or some explosives.

At the next door, a full body scan detected whether he had any chemicals or residue anywhere on him that could act as a poison. A retinal scan detected whether he had android eye implants with explosives attached inside his skull. With each door, the hallway became a little darker, a little more ominous. He lost track of how long he had been in Ballona’s underground tunnels.

The next door opened. A rusted iron android in the shape of a human told him to pass through an array of detectors.

“Turn to your left,” the android commanded. After he did, the android told him to turn to his right.

“What is this one scanning for?” Scrope asked.

The android looked at him with a blank stare.

A moment later, a green light blinked on the android’s control panel.

“You may pass.”

“Thank you,” Scrope said.

Inside the next door, a grunting pair of enormous gray aliens approached him. Each wore a helmet to protect the solitary eyeball that took up half of its face. Scrope had never seen this species before and couldn’t tell where their mouths or noses were. When they growled at him, it sounded like their mouths were down near their bellies. The guards patted him down so roughly that he was covered in bruises by the time they finished.

Then, another set of scanners, this time to detect for parasites. When that was finished, Scrope walked further down the underground tunnels.

Another android appeared, this one the color of faded copper, with glowing black eyes and an array of sensors behind its head. The android extended a cup of liquid toward Scrope.

“Drink,” it said.

“What is it?”

“Cleans your insides of lethal bacteria.”

“I don’t have bacteria.”

“Drink,” the android said.

Scrope looked around. Although he couldn’t see one, he was sure a camera was allowing Ballona to see exactly what was happening. He was also sure a wall-mounted blaster would appear from a secret compartment and gun him down if he refused to drink what the android was offering.

“Will it kill me?”

The reply was immediate: “Drink.”

Scrope rolled his eyes and sniffed at it.

“It smells like dirty feet.”

“Drink.”

“I know, I know. Calm down.”

If he turned and tried to leave, he would be killed. If he tried to continue ahead without drinking the liquid, he would also be killed. So really, if the liquid he was being told to drink killed him, it wouldn’t change anything.

“Down the hatch,” he said, drinking it in one gulp.

“Proceed,” the android said.

He was at least four stories underground now. A pair of alien guards, heavy and round, their noses upturned, began patting him down.

“I’ve already been searched about ten times.”

One of the guards grunted something in a language Scrope didn’t understand. He could guess what the guard had said, though. Probably, he had been told to keep quiet or die.

Anyway, these guards probably didn’t know the first two guards performed the same duty. If the first guards were paid by a rival gangster to let an assassin pass through the security check, the subsequent guards would still prevent them from getting through to see and kill Ballona. If Scrope was an extremely paranoid gangster, he would also build redundancies into his security checks as a bribery countermeasure.

The grunting guards finished searching him, then pointed their glowing ion knives further down the tunnel.

After another hundred yards, he came to a metal door. All of the lights in the tunnel were off. The only illumination was from far behind him where the guards had been. It was just enough light that he could see a faint outline of the door before walking straight into the metal barrier.

Was this another scanner trying to detect something? Had a guard on the other side of this door fallen asleep? Or were they testing whether or not he would panic and try to get away?

“Hello?” he said into the darkness.

A click sounded. Then the metal door began to raise. As it did, light poured out of the next room, causing Scrope to cover his eyes with his hands. After being in darkness for so long, he wouldn’t be able to see anything in this bright room until his eyes adjusted.

“Your eyes will get used to the light in a moment,” a voice called out.

When he could finally see again, he noticed an alien woman in the shadows, a pair of android guards on either side of her. No one else was in the room. There were no harems or parties or anything else. No massive ogre guards or a monster to unleash. There was just this one alien and her two android bodyguards in an otherwise empty and cavernous room. At each wall, a light was pointed at Scrope, causing him to squint and hold a hand up in front of his eyes.