Any living creature would have understood the brevity of what the warlord was asking and would have surely been overwhelmed by being tasked with not only formulating which target should be attacked but also carrying out the orders. M, though, was incapable of being shocked by a task or by the amount of death it would bring about. Instead, the android merely nodded, its eyes glowing blue as it began to calculate the order.

  “Is that all, my master?”

  Arc-Mi-Die laughed. “Yes, that’s all.”

  Without another word, M nodded and turned to leave. Arc-Mi-Die was giddy with anticipation of hearing which planet or colony the next Excalibur vessel had destroyed.

  77

  At the furthest edge of what had been the Vonnegan Empire, near the border with the Thurndorian sector, Brigadier Desttro watched as more Round Table vessels appeared. Months earlier, General Reiser had taken an allotment of twelve flagships into the Cartha sector. Already mustered at the rendezvous site were fifteen flagships. He was expecting two more in the next day and three more the day after that. In total, he was slated to have three HC Ballistic Cruisers, four Solar Carriers, eight Athens Destroyers, two Flying Fortresses, two Havoc Gunships, and his own Hellship, as well as an assortment of mid-size cruisers.

  The last report he had received stated that the Hannibal and their Juggernaut had apparently destroyed the colonies on 16-Tuero, the final colonized planet in the 16-D-10 sector. After that, everyone assumed they would continue on their path and enter the far side of the Thurndorian sector.

  Desttro was still watching the footage of the previous encounter between the three flagships and the Hannibal, yet now he did so in the company of the senior officer in charge of the other flagships. When Brigadier Churnoff met at the rally point aboard his HC Ballistic Cruiser, he took a transport over the Desttro’s flagship and the two of them watched the battle footage from beginning to end.

  Instead of watching in silence, Desttro shared his thoughts and encouraged Brigadier Churnoff to do the same. He repeated the viewing with every commanding officer as they arrived.

  Churnoff said, “How can the portal allow vessels to pass through without their tinder walls down? We’ve never seen anything like that. It also seems to activate and deactivate on command.” He shook his head. “Makes you wonder how many other ways the portals might be different that we haven’t yet thought of.”

  When Colonel Leviathan arrived in her Flying Fortress, she too took a transport over to the Hellship.

  “Any thoughts are appreciated,” Desttro said as the holographic image began to play from the beginning of the confrontation, the three flagships still minutes away from being decimated by the Juggernaut’s portals.

  Leviathan narrowed her eyes as she watched. When it was over, all she said was, “Again.”

  A second time she watched the way the two Athens Destroyers and one Solar Carrier were caught off guard by the portals appearing all around them.

  When the battle concluded the second time, Colonel Leviathan said, “We have to prolong the battle as long as possible, force them to become impatient.” She whispered the words as if talking to herself. Then, louder, she added, “We have to remember this is the only battle tactic we’ve seen of theirs. Surely there will be more. We need to keep them drawn into battle without actually committing our forces. See how they adapt so we can adapt even quicker.”

  These were all things Desttro had also considered over the course of his own countless viewings, but through hearing the thoughts of the other officers he was reassured that the only thing to learn from the previous battle was that it had been unorthodox and that the Round Table fleet must be ready for anything. The only way to proceed into the next fight would be to learn from what had been done before and to what they saw the Hannibal do once Desttro’s forces refused to fall for the same bait.

  Even if he were stubborn and refused to alter the battle plan, he was sure that twenty flagships and their accompaniment of varying weaponry and fighters would bring about losses for the Hannibal. It would be a foolish thing to force the impressive fleet at his disposal into the same situation that had caused three flagships to be destroyed and he would never do such a thing, but there was a confidence that came from knowing even a foolhardy approach, given enough weight and force behind it, could make the Hannibal question their incursion into Round Table space.

  The review sessions with other commanding officers didn’t stop there. When Colonel Noshin arrived aboard his Havoc Gunship, he too met with Desttro and watched the three dimensional footage light up the officer’s quarters.

  “They never fire their cannons,” Noshin observed. “We can see they have cannons at their disposal and yet they go unused. It’s easy to assume they’re either laser or ion weapons, but what if they aren’t? And what other weapons do they have in place of our traditional proton torpedoes, gravity mines, and the such? Surely, the trickery of their portals is only one of their options.”

  Trickery was the epitome of officer talk. Hundreds of people had died aboard each of those flagships while the Hannibal set forth their unique brand of warfare, and yet the result was trivialized because every commanding officer knew better than to think of it in terms of mothers and fathers losing their children, husbands and wives losing their spouses. If they thought about it that way, if they allowed their officers to, no one would be foolish enough to face the monster that approached.

  Brigadier Endger, commanding officer of an Athens Destroyer, took the idea of trickery to the extreme. The holographic battle had barely begun inside Desttro’s Hellship when Endger said, “Everything about them is smoke and mirrors. There is no benefit to having a ship that large. There’s a reason each kingdom’s flagships are roughly the same size.” He motioned toward the viewport at the Solar Carrier, Athens Destroyers, and other ships all mustering at the edge of the Thurndorian sector. “There’s also no reason to have cannons that large and not use them. Better to have three medium sized cannons than one giant weapon. And why deploy four mechs instead of swarms of fighters? Everything about them is absurd, even their method of stealing victory.”

  Desttro was tempted to remind Endger that the same absurd ship had already killed many of their friends. He knew, though, that the other brigadier was only saying what he needed to say in order to rush out and face the enemy.

  78

  The next session of the Round Table had barely gotten under way when Julian walked through the doors of the Great Hall. The hoards of arguing representatives stopped bickering and stared at him. It was impossible to ignore the Sword in the Stone at his hip. That, combined with the general’s uniform—both shoulders decorated with medals—made it look as though Julian had already accepted leadership over the Round Table.

  Whispers darted around the table.

  To his side, Hector saw Cash and Cimber speaking in hushed tones, their hands cupped over their mouths to ensure no one else could hear what they were saying. Everyone else stared in awe at the man who was walking around the Great Hall toward Octo and Winchester.

  “Friends,” Julian said, his voice booming. “No one can say these are easy times. A warlord threatens us from afar. A new enemy is approaching from the edges of Round Table-controlled space.”

  All throughout the Great Hall, representatives stirred in their seats. A Nickto, an alien with tentacles everywhere and who emitted a constant humming from its throat, gave an excited gurgle. A MaqMac, standing on top of his seat but still shorter than a human sitting on his chair, shook his little fists, happy to know someone would finally resolve what the Round Table couldn’t.

  Julian said, “In both cases, we have only one aim and one aim alone. Victory. Our very existence demands victory. Already, three ships have been lost to the Hannibal, along with many innocent colonies. Numerous other colonies have been destroyed by the lowly warlord. No matter the cost, we will defeat both enemies. No matter how daunting the task, no matter how far we must travel across the galaxy, we will demand victory. We do not seek to defeat either enemy, the barbarians approaching our kingdom or the criminal with a disregard for life, because we seek glory. No, we do it because without destroying both of them, we cannot survive.”

  Most of the room clapped and shouted General Reiser’s name.

  A human sitting exactly halfway between Hector and Octo yelled, “Lead us, General Reiser.”

  A Feedorian representative, his wings flittering with excitement, bellowed, “Emperor Reiser!”

  Others called out that it was true: whoever possessed the Sword in the Stone must lead the galaxy.

  Beside him, Hector heard Cash shout back, “That was never the saying,” but the cascade of screams and cheers overwhelmed anything Cash or Cimber or Hector might say.

  Julian raised his hands. The Great Hall fell silent, waiting for his next words.

  “Never waiver, my friends. When evil comes near, do not flinch or look away. Do not despair. The Round Table fleet will do what’s necessary to keep everyone safe. Our flagships will go to every sector, to every corner of the galaxy to root out Arc-Mi-Die. Already, a portion of our fleet has mustered in the Thurndorian sector and is preparing to destroy the Hannibal. We will defend our homes, our loved ones, our way of life, no matter the cost.”

  Julian stopped then, and Hector couldn’t tell if his friend had said everything he had intended or if the roar of cheers and endless applause kept him from saying more. When it was clear the representatives were overcome and had no intention of quieting down, Julian smiled, nodded to the group, and then departed the Great Hall.

  A moment later, amongst the din of noise, Hector left through a different set of double doors. Cash and Cimber followed. Pistol was in the hall, waiting for Hector’s next task.

  “Stay close to him,” Hector said, leaning close to the android so no one further down the hall might hear.

  Pistol nodded and turned to walk down a corridor that would intersect with the one Julian had used.

  A hand grabbed Hector by the shoulder and jerked him to the side.

  “This is madness,” Cash hissed.

  Hector took a breath before he spoke to ensure he maintained his composure. “You will remove your hand.”

  When Cash realized his overstep, his fingers uncurled from Hector’s lapel. Hector nodded and continued down the hallway.

  “We have to do something,” Cimber called out.

  “I know.”

  “What are you going to do?” Cash asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Hector was aware that both Cash and Cimber were still standing in the hallway, still waiting for some indication of what they should do next. It wasn’t enough to keep him from continuing away from the Great Hall.

  “If you won’t act,” Cash yelled, “we’ll have to do something without you.”

  79

  With the technology available to them, it took the Dauphin little time to neutralize J’s security protocol and decrypt his memory. The android’s decapitated head rested on a platform of energy beside a control panel that was washed in silver and gold waves of light. One of the two elders tapped commands into a panel embedded into the stone wall, causing the waves of light to morph into swirls of various shades of sparkling grey. J’s eyes lit up the way they would if the android was still processing information. The second Dauphin stood near the head, looking at it in amusement.

  “That’s not a bad sign?” Lancelot asked, nodding to J’s glowing eyes.

  Both Dauphin gave a soft hiss of disapproval.

  The elder on the right said, “We defeated the Round Table with our devices and this warrior still questions if we know what we are doing.”

  The other said, “It is clear the human never trusted us. That is why it didn’t fit in here.”

  They were baiting her and Lancelot knew it. That was why she refrained from telling them off. They had created a culture where the warriors inflicted pain on one another for no better reason than the approval of three old aliens. They had allowed her to believe she was defending some great civilization rather than just the Dauphin. But worst of all, they had instilled in the Carthagen warriors a fear of anyone other than their own species, a fear that had forced Lancelot to hide behind armor for most of her life. She said nothing, however, and would force herself to continue saying nothing until they told her where Arc-Mi-Die was hiding.

  It was interesting to her to see how they treated her once they realized she wasn’t a Carthagen. The humiliation of them knowing their prideful species had been bested by a measly human was all the satisfaction she needed. Even now, as they worked on J’s memory banks, they glanced over toward her and gave soft hisses of disgust at the sight of her long hair and blue eyes. Her instinct had been to put her helmet back on after revealing her true identity, but she enjoyed the discomfort it brought on them and it was liberating to keep it off while they worked.

  The entire time she had been in the Orleans asteroid field, her identity had been a lie. Now that she was back, however, she knew it was the right decision to have left. The Dauphin held no power over her anymore. It was nice to be reminded of that.

  Her attention went back to what the elders were doing to J’s head. A holographic map formed in the air, showing exactly where the android had gone. Every planet and colony, every mercenary it had recruited. Most importantly, a dot on the floating galactic map showed the exact location of Arc-Mi-Die’s hiding spot.

  A smile came over her and her hands twitched with excitement. The two Dauphin stepped aside and allowed her to sift through the information. With her upper right hand, she swiped through the holograms, pushing away information she didn’t need and expanding the stuff she did.

  “What will you do with this information?” one of the Dauphin asked.

  “I’m going to kill a warlord,” Lancelot said in the same matter-of-fact tone the elders had loved back when she was killing on their behalf.

  “Why?”

  She cocked her head sideways. “Why? Because he’s wreaking havoc across the galaxy. Because he took my family away from me.” Both Dauphin stared at her. She wanted to go back to the hologram of data but their expression irked her. “What?”

  “You think you are free,” the Dauphin on the left said. “You think you have reclaimed your identity.”

  The Dauphin on the right added, “Have you ever asked yourself why you still go by the name Lancelot? Surely, you have another name.”

  The Dauphin’s chamber was silent while she considered this. She stared at the galactic map, trying to focus on where Arc-Mi-Die was hiding. At no time during her search for him had she considered that it was really Arc-Mi-Joan who was hunting a distant relative. In fact, she had managed to think of her mission in every other possible term except that one. Yes, she had thought of getting vengeance for her father, but when she had considered the idea, it had always been her father, as Lancelot the armored warrior, that she was going to seek retribution for. It was never Arc-Mi-Joan, the scared girl who had been whisked from a planet at an early age, who was seeking vengeance.

  Suddenly, the urge returned to put on her helmet. This time, she gave into it.

  “Thank you for the information,” she said, her voice returning to the metallic tone produced by the voice synthesizer inside the armor. “And for the help you provided. You may keep the android’s head.”

  Without waiting for a response, she turned and allowed the stone slab to move aside. As soon as it did, she left.

  80

  “Not even my own backyard offers peace of mind these days,” Hector said as he hovered back and forth.

  From the chair she was sitting in, positioned under the largest tree, Portia let her fingertips brush against his arm as he moved past her in his restlessness. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of insects and of the breeze rustling leaves.

  “Maybe we should move to some far-off colony,” he said. “I could plant crops and you could have a different sky to look at, different fields to walk each day.”

  “Maybe,” she said, but he could hear in her voice that it wasn’t something she would be in favor of. “Is that what you would like?”

  He moved beside her again and paused, and she rested her head against the shoulder of his that was still flesh instead of metal and energy. It was her way of letting him know he was loved and that she was there with him no matter what happened.

  He put his hands over his face as if he would weep, but then only sighed.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “You know what I’d like?”

  “What, my love?”

  “I’d have liked to go to that far-off colony with you and grow crops, only thirty years ago. Before everything. Before I watched my soldiers die. Before I lost most of my body to this madness.”

  “It’s never too late,” she said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

  He swiveled to face her before asking what if it was too late.

  Something about the look on his face made her pull slightly away. “What do you mean?”

  A glint of light caught Hector’s eye and he turned to see Pistol at the doorway. He nodded and the android opened the door and walked out to the backyard.

  “Hello, Hector. Hello, Portia.”

  “Hello, Pistol,” Portia said, smiling at the memory of the first time she had ever met the android and the way his eyes had glowed while assessing her.

  He remained standing in front of them in silence. Hector had made it clear that anything Pistol had to report could be said in front of his wife, but Portia pulled the hair back from in front of her eyes as she stood.

  “Don’t stay up too late,” she said with a smile and made her way back indoors.

  Hector understood why she was going back inside. It wasn’t that she was giving him his privacy; it was that she didn’t want to hear what would be discussed. It didn’t interest her and so she wanted no part of it. He wished he could excuse himself from everything as easily as she did.