Immediately, he went from seeing nothing but light and energy to seeing the back of the grey mech and other nearby portals. If he blinked, he wouldn’t have even known he had jumped from one point in space to another except for the jarring lurch in his stomach and the change of scenery. To his left, the same Round Table flagships that had been behind him were in a line. The dull grey mech spun, readying itself to pass back through the same portal.

  “It worked,” Redbeard said across his comms for all to hear. “You can go through the Hannibal portals without your tinder walls lowered and you’ll be okay.”

  He pulled right on the Helljet’s controls, sending the fighter into a tight turn to keep up with the mech. This time, the mech wasn’t going to get away. The enemy machine was more than twice the size of Redbeard’s ship. As it moved it kept its sword in an upright position which made it seem like a phantom more than a thing made for killing. The hover transport it travelled atop was deceptively quick. Even though the Helljet raced after it, the mech was already disappearing into the portal again.

  Redbeard looked to his side just before returning through it as well. In the distance, he saw a formation of three Thunderbolts vanish into a portal. Closer to him, over his head, he saw a pair of Llyushin fighters do the same. The wing commander smiled. He and the other Round Table forces were using the Hannibal’s own tricks against them. Unlike the first battle, in which the three flagships had been overwhelmed by an enemy they knew nothing about, this would be the beginning of a counterattack that would keep the Juggernaut and its four mechs from going further toward Edsall Dark.

  He plunged back into the portal. The pull and push felt almost nonexistent this time. His eyes darted left and right for where the grey mech was heading next. A warning on his navigation system blazed red. An alarm blared.

  The last thing he saw was the mech, its long sword descending like a bolt of lighting, aimed directly at the cockpit of his Helljet. Then his existence was over. Not by a portal as he had feared, but gone all the same.

  106

  Portia was with Margaret when she heard the news. The two women, even though their friendship was strained because of Hector’s and Julian’s respective concerns, still walked across the fields outside CamaLon twice a week. They didn’t speak nearly as much as they used to and when they did, it was small-talk—the weather, the crops—rather than anything to do with the Round Table.

  A guard at the gate stared at Margaret, his eyes questioning, until she asked if he needed something.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s just that...”

  The guard shook his head, not knowing if he was supposed to tell General Reiser’s wife the news that she clearly hadn’t heard yet. The look of concern and dread on the man’s face was clear and forced Portia to ask what was going on.

  “General Reiser,” the guard said, still looking at Margaret. He gulped and cringed, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Your husband... he was killed.”

  Any part of Portia that was concerned with the squabbles between Hector and Julian vanished and she reached out and took Margaret in her arms. Her friend was motionless, and Portia suspected she was in shock, unable to comprehend what they had been told. But then she felt Margaret’s lean her head to the side so she could look over Portia’s shoulder and stare directly at the guard.

  “Killed?” Margaret asked, her voice cold.

  Portia leaned back slightly. She saw in her friend’s expression that she wasn’t in shock at all but was connecting dots. Her husband, the guard had said, hadn’t merely died—that denoted a natural death. No, Margaret’s husband had been killed. Had been murdered.

  The guard’s head swayed left and right in dismay. “Ma’am, I—”

  “Killed by who?”

  For the first time since the two women walked back toward the gates, the guard looked at Portia. Immediately, his eyes dropped to the ground.

  His voice was weak, almost a whisper. “Hector and some of the representatives, ma’am.”

  Margaret groaned. Portia wanted to keep a hold of her friend, wanted to hug her hard enough that all of this would go away, but she knew what was coming and so she let her hands fall away before Margaret pushed herself free.

  “I have to get home,” Margaret said, already walking, not bothering to look back at Portia.

  “Margaret, let me come with you. This has to be some kind of mistake.”

  “I have to get home,” Margaret said again, her voice distant as she turned a corner and disappeared.

  Portia looked at the guard. The guard returned her gaze for only a moment, then looked off toward the field as if something important were out there. With nothing else she could say or do, she too began back toward her home.

  107

  News of Wing Commander Redbeard’s survival through the portal jump instantly went out to every Round Table fighter’s headset. The official communication came through a moment later: “All fighters have permission to enter the portals at their own risk.”

  In his Llyushin fighter, the commander of the L1 squadron saw two Helljets curve sharply and plunge into the nearest portals. Further off in the distance, he saw a group of four Thunderbolts do the same.

  “Okay,” Wing Commander Trake said to the other four Llyushin fighters in L1, “Keep your eyes open and stay together. Doesn’t look like there’s much room between the first layer of portals and the second. Once we go through, if you have to veer off and we get separated, stay in contact and report what you see.”

  Trake set his fighter to bank left for the nearest portal. The two pairs of fighters behind him did the same. Even though he had just received news that Redbeard had survived his jump, Trake’s knuckles gripped the flight stick of the Llyushin fighter hard enough that the metal lining of his gloves creaked. After a lifetime of having it drilled into his head that portals were lethal unless a ship’s tinder walls were in place, after seeing the result of crafts not doing what they were supposed to, he couldn’t help but expect to cease to exist as soon as he entered the light.

  Instead, he appeared directly in front of another portal, this time in the interior layer of protection around the Juggernaut. Instead of attempting to swerve, he allowed the Llyushin fighter to plunge into a second portal in just as many seconds. The tactic served two purposes. The first was that with each fighter’s coordinates being updated in real time by the flagships, it would let the senior officers gain a better understanding of how the portals in the second layer were linked to all the others. The tide of war would eventually change as the fighter pilots, already outnumbering the mechs, also began to have a better understanding of the battlefield’s unconventional terrain. The second thing it would do, hopefully, would be to cause the Hannibal to grow nervous for the first time. The enemy would be comfortable as long as they were safe behind the inner layer of portals. Maybe the Hannibal would rethink how much sense it made to invade Round Table space once they saw a fighter fly past the viewport of the Juggernaut. A couple of proton torpedoes ripping into their hull would certainly help them come to that conclusion even faster.

  The only problem was that after his ship passed through the second portal, he didn’t appear in front of the Juggernaut or another field of circular energy. Instead, the Hellship, Solar Carriers, Athens Destroyers, and other flagships were all in front of him. After passing through a pair of portals at such a fast speed, it took his mind a moment to catch up with what his ship’s computer already knew; he was back out where he had begun. Four other ships appeared behind him, the other members of his squadron.

  “It’s disorienting,” he told them. “We’re going to have to—”

  Another dot appeared on the nav screen, just behind the other Llyushin pilots. An alarm sounded in Trake’s cockpit. Before he could issue an order or take his own ship into evasive maneuvers, one of the four blue dots that was aligned behind him disappeared.

  Without needing to be told what to do, the rest of the fighters broke into different directions. Trake’s own Llyushin fighter was breaking into a turn so it could target the mech as soon as he came out of its sharp curve. On his way into the one hundred and eighty degree turn, he saw the remains of a charred Llyushin fighter streaking off into the distance. The wall of portals came back into view. As they did, the enemy signal on his nav system disappeared. The mech had gone back into the energy field and was already somewhere else, getting ready to destroy another Round Table ship.

  “Okay,” Trake told the other three ships remaining in his squadron. “Follow me. Ignore the mechs unless they’re directly in front of you.” He angled the Llyushin fighter back toward the nearest portal. “Let’s go.”

  His ship rocketed back into the front of the portal they had just arrived from. The other three remaining fighters were right behind him. On the other side of the energy field, he swerved left and passed through a different portal in the second layer of energy fields than he had before. When he appeared next, he was coming out of the second layer of fields again, only in the opposite direction of the way he had come. In front of him were the hundreds of portals blocking his view of the Round Table vessels. He pulled right on the Llyushin’s controls as hard as he could and made it double back, into the portal next to the one he had just appeared from. The other fighters behind him swerved to do the same.

  After passing through the next portal, he was out at the first layer of portals again, the Round Table flagships in front of him. A moment later he swerved and dove back into another circle of brilliant light. Right before he did, he saw the white mech appear from the portal above him, aim its ion bow, then release an arrow. Trake passed through the portal before he could react to anything the mech was doing. When he came through the other side of the portal, only two blue dots from his squadron remained on his nav display.

  There wasn’t anything he could do but keep flying, keep trying to get the better of the Hannibal. After passing through another portal, he was on the far right side of the battle.

  Each pass through the portals jarred his sense of direction. After another jump he realized it was easier to stay oriented on where he was if he completely ignored his view of space outside the cockpit and instead relied solely on the nav display of his fighter. After three more jumps through portals, he started to feel nauseous and light-headed. The constant pull and push from each leap, one after another, was having an effect on his nervous system. The last time he had felt this way was back when he was in the academy and he was learning to fly a Llyushin fighter for the first time.

  He flew along the gap created between the exterior and interior layers of portals in order to give his head and stomach a chance to settle down. As he did, he began to doubt if any of the portals would lead to the inner layer of the Hannibal defenses and give him a clean shot at the Juggernaut.

  “I’m going all the way around,” he said on an open channel.

  Instead of wasting time finding a path through the portals, he would fly all the way around the perimeter in hopes of finding an opening toward its rear. The other two ships in his squadron followed. Once again, he couldn’t help but be awed by the size of the Juggernaut. The invader’s vessel required a defensive perimeter of portals with a radius larger than some of the planets he had been stationed on during his service.

  All he could see on either sides of him was a barrier of portals. His nav system told him when he was around the front side of the Juggernaut and approaching its side. A while later, it showed that he was coming up on the giant ship’s rear thrusters.

  Just as he had hoped, a gap as wide a Round Table flagship existed at the rear of the Hannibal ship, exposing the tail end of the Juggernaut.

  “Looks like we found our way in,” he said, allowing himself the first smile of the battle.

  In between the gap of portals, all he could see was the glow of the Juggernaut’s thrusters. Unlike the portals, which glowed a constant white, the thrusters swirled with hints of blue and green. The size and hue of the glow was mesmerizing.

  “Stay focused,” he said, more for his own benefit than to the two pilots behind him.

  His fingers tapped a pair of buttons, locking a pair of the Llyushin fighter’s projectiles into place. Trake glanced down at the nav display. Something didn’t feel right. There was a direct opening to blast the Juggernaut and yet none of the four mechs were anywhere nearby to deter him and keep their ship safe. Nor was the Juggernaut firing its cannons.

  The weapon’s display beside his helmet glowed green, letting him know it was ready to launch. With his index finger, he tapped a flashing button. A pair of proton torpedoes rocketed away from the sides of his ship and began to soar toward the back of the Juggernaut.

  The torpedoes were halfway between the fighters and the Hannibal vessel when the Juggernaut’s engines ignited to full intensity. In less time than Trake had ever seen a flagship react, each thruster changed from a glow of blue and green to a pure sapphire like the clear waters of the lake where he had grown up. In the next instant, there was...

  Nothing.

  The Juggernaut was gone. The portals were gone. The mechs were gone.

  In front of him, Trake saw his two proton torpedoes, as well as the two launched from both of the ships behind him, continue forward. Only now, their target was gone, so the projectiles soared ahead without anything they were supposed to destroy. Rather than allow the projectiles to reach the Round Table’s flagships, one of the Hellships targeted them with its cannons, setting off a chain of six explosions.

  After the explosion subsided, the space in front of Wing Commander Trake looked like a normal scouting expedition. A series of flagships were arrayed in front of him. To his side, he saw various Round Table fighters in their respective formations. There was no enemy to battle, no laser blasts or explosions. There was no sign at all that a conflict had been unfolding. The Hannibal were simply gone.

  A report came through to his primary display as a glowing red message, indicating it was of the highest urgency possible.

  ALL ROUND TABLE SHIPS ARE EVACUATING THE AREA. REBOARD SOLAR CARRIER N.M. SHOCKWAVE IMMEDIATELY. ANY VESSELS THAT HAVE NOT RETURNED TO THEIR HANGARS IN THE NEXT SIXTY SECONDS WILL BE LEFT BEHIND.

  108

  Talbot and Margaret sat in their home with the lights off. A steady stream of people came by and knocked on their front door but neither mother nor son got up to see who they there or what they wanted. Sometimes the well-wisher knocked two or three times. Others knocked once, waited a while, and then Talbot could hear their footsteps trail away. Others never got as close as the door, were happy to congregate in small groups out on the street, singing songs in tribute to the fallen general.

  “What will you do?” Talbot asked.

  Margaret didn’t answer, only shook her head.

  He thought again of what his father had asked of him as they stood on the ledge of the Carthagen asteroid months earlier. An epiphany came over him. Ever since he was a child and first began to understand what his father did and why he went away for long stretches of time, Talbot had always assumed that one day his father would be killed. It was never a concrete thing like knowing how or why, just the overall feeling that one day his father would be there and the next day he wouldn’t.

  He wondered if his mother had the same sense. Had she always assumed that one day she would have to raise Talbot by herself? Perhaps part of her was surprised her son had made it all the way to adulthood before Julian died. Maybe some day he could have that conversation with her. Not today, though.

  “I’m speaking at the funeral tomorrow morning,” he said.

  She gave a weak smile and nodded, but again said nothing. The more he watched her there in the dark room, unable to speak, the more he thought about what he would say at his father’s funeral. He had already planned on talking about Julian’s accomplishments. As he sat there, however, the knocks on the door going unanswered, his own words falling on deaf ears, he thought of what his father had asked of him back in Orleans.

  “Avenge my death,” Julian had said.

  How better to do that than to make sure everyone in attendance knew who was responsible and that those people would be held accountable? After all, a security council hadn’t decided General Reiser was a threat. A jury hadn’t convicted him of anything. Instead, a small group of representatives had taken it upon themselves to kill his father and leave his mother crying in a dark room.

  By the time he was done speaking the next day, the people would know exactly what Julian would have wanted.

  109

  Brigadier Desttro scanned the report that was projected in the air in front of him. The immediate battle with the Hannibal was over. The enemy had suffered no losses. Neither had the Round Table flagships. The same couldn’t be said for the fighters. Seven Helljets were lost, as were four Thunderbolts and a trio of Llyushin fighters. While incurring no losses was the ultimate goal, the limited extent of casualties was a massive improvement over what had happened to the three flagships back in the 16-D-10 sector.

  The most startling aspect of the entire confrontation was how it initially appeared as if the Juggernaut and four mechs had simply disappeared. One second Desttro’s forces were confronting the enemy and the next moment they were looking at empty space. The Hellship’s sensors knew what had really happened, though.

  Instead of exploding into a portal like the hundreds of others circles of energy that had formed the enemy’s defensive perimeter, one of the Hannibal’s projectiles had continued flying through space. The Hellship’s sensors had continued to track it even though the crew no longer considered it to be a threat. Over the course of the prolonged and largely uneventful battle with the four mechs, in which the Hannibal had continued their slow crawl towards Edsall Dark, the other projectile had rocketed through space toward the Juggernaut’s next target, the lone colony on the frozen moon of Dasnoyk. The Hellship’s sensors confirmed this when a large object and four smaller objects all suddenly appeared above the same moon.