The Round Table (Space Lore Book 3) (25 page)

63

Vere and Pistol stood in the main command center with a group of generals. Some of them were CasterLan, but most were from other armies. All of them gathered around a three-dimensional hologram of the sector, complete with representations of Edsall Dark, the various vessels that had arrived, and the approaching Vonnegan fleet.

Vere knew better than to presume she could dictate military tactics and space warfare plans to the rest of the group. They weren’t there because she had offered to lead the operation; they were there because she was on the verge of disbanding the CasterLan Kingdom in favor of something new. The only thing the uniformed generals did, however, was bicker about which flagships should be arranged in which areas and in which formations. Her own general, a man who had served under Westmoreland, blinked and stuttered, overwhelmed by how many languages were being spoken by the many alien leaders.

A round alien, wider than he was tall, with a chest that sucked in large quantities of air and a back that exhaled it, wheezed as he scolded everyone for their outdated tactics.

“What we need to do,” he said, “is hide the majority of the ships behind the planet. Let the Crown and the Solar Carriers lure Mowbray’s fleet where we want them, and then outflank them with the other vessels.”

An alien that was the same height as a human, but with hundreds of tentacles down his sides instead of two arms and two legs, made a humming noise that drowned out the other alien’s rebuke. As he did, his tentacles swirled in countless shades of the color spectrum.

“We need to rush and meet the Vonnegan forces at the portal above Dela Turkomann. Mowbray will never expect it!”

A half human-half Watchneen tried to tell both of them how mistaken they were but was drowned out by a nearly invisible alien who took the color of the objects behind it. Another alien shouted to be heard above that one.

Vere’s general looked at her, grimaced, then looked back at the group of military leaders.

“Your idea is working fabulously,” Morgan said, coming up beside Vere.

“You could help, you know,” Vere said, not turning to look at her friend.

“That’s true.”

“But you won’t?”

“That’s also true,” Morgan said. “You made this mess. Well, this is what happens when everyone has a chance to say why they’re right and everyone else is wrong. I hope you’re enjoying it.”

Morgan braced herself for Vere’s reaction. It was understandable enough. Years earlier, this kind of taunting and provocation would have made Vere lose her temper. At the very least, there would have been punches thrown. For something this purposefully antagonistic, there was no telling how far their fight would have gone. Likely, both of them would have had to see medical bots afterward.

Now though, returning to the meeting, Vere nodded and accepted Morgan’s response for what it was. She knew Morgan was capable of stepping forward and making the other military leaders listen to whatever she had to say. If that wasn’t going to happen, she wouldn’t dwell on it.

“This is just for one battle,” Morgan said in Vere’s ear, watching the aliens, humans, and hybrids argue with one another. “How do you think it’s going to be when they actually sit around your precious round table and try to manage every aspect of ten combined kingdoms?”

Vere motioned with her hand at the group of people arguing with one another. “They’re used to giving orders. They don’t know what to do in a room full of equals. And they all want the glory of victory for themselves.”

Morgan laughed. “And?”

“And,” Vere said, “that’s why the round table won’t have any military leaders. It will be composed of people who want to avoid war, not go running into it.”

“You think you have everything figured out, huh?”

Vere didn’t answer, but continued to observe the arguments between the leaders of Kaiser Doom’s army and Baron Von Wrth’s and all the others. Morgan gripped Vere’s jacket collar and pulled her closer.

If a drunken patron had done that to her at Eastcheap, a streak of colored air would have swirled through the room as her Meursault blade cut the offending hand off at the wrist.

Vere looked down at the hand holding her in place, then up at Morgan’s angry face. “Let go.”

Pistol, his face and arm repaired, turned his head to assess what was happening. A ring of light circled his eyes one time as he calculated whether or not to intervene. Seeing that Vere was calm, he took the cue that he should not interfere with the proceedings.

“What if I don’t?” Morgan asked, her eyes narrowing, her knuckles turning white.

Vere took a deep breath, then exhaled. A humming came to the edge of the room, causing everyone to turn and see what it was.

Hector approached, dressed in his old military uniform.

“May I offer assistance?” he said to Vere, ignoring Morgan’s hand that was still gripping her collar.

“Of course,” Vere said.

Morgan’s hand immediately fell back to her side.

The group of foreign generals fell silent when they saw Hector hover into position beside them. All at once, ten arguing voices belonging to at least seven different species went quiet.

“Hector,” one of them gasped.

“Oh my,” another said.

“I told my son stories about you when he was little,” yet another said.

After assessing the formations and positions that the other generals had been arguing about, Hector moved forward, reaching out and touching the moveable holographic images.

“Can I suggest something, gentlemen?”

The other generals all murmured their approval. Vere noticed that Morgan inched forward as well, wanting to see what he would propose.

“Move these ships here,” he said, dragging the images further to one side. “And these, here,” he said, moving a different set of holograms to the other side. “The rest stay here, by the Crown.”

The generals looked at the formation in silence, none of them doubting Hector’s brilliance but also none of them wanting to admit they didn’t understand what he was suggesting.

Hector said, “Mowbray’s fleet will come from this direction.” He pointed to the lights that represented Dela Turkomann’s portal. “That much is obvious. He needs to avoid the Crown. If he doesn’t, he will incur too many losses before the battle properly starts. Anywhere else, we get him before he can organize the attack.”

Morgan smiled. She had figured out what Hector was suggesting. The rest of the room still looked on in utter confusion.

“His only option,” Hector continued, “will be to avoid both the Crown and the fleets completely.”

“A land attack?” one of the aliens asked.

Hector nodded.

“Ah, very good,” one of the aliens said.

“I should have seen that,” Westmoreland’s protégé whispered.

When no one disagreed, Hector turned to the gathering of generals and said, “Have your soldiers depart for the surface of Edsall Dark as soon as they are ready. There are a lot of preparations to be made on the ground. Then move your fleets into position.”

As Hector folded his arms, the generals nearest to him had to move slightly away. Even with only half of a body, he looked twice the size of everyone else. His shoulders were larger and rounder than the ancient Cascade shields that soldiers used to carry into combat.

In a consensus, the generals nodded and left the room.

Vere, Pistol, Hector, and Morgan remained in the room.

Morgan said, “There will be a lot of death in a ground battle.”

“No more than a space battle,” Hector said, “It will be good for these military leaders to see the death up close. It’s one thing to see a starship reduced to wreckage as it floats away into space. It’s quite another thing to see a soldier dying on a battlefield within arm’s reach of you.”

Morgan shook her head. “Don’t you think the other generals know that?”

“I’m sure they must,” Hector said. “But it’s easy not to think about. I’m sure the leaders who sent me into one battle after another wouldn’t have been so quick to do so if they had been aboard the ships that were doing the fighting.”

“I don’t know what’s getting into everyone,” Morgan said, shaking her head at the sight of Hector in a CasterLan uniform, something he hadn’t done in more than ten years.

Hector turned to Vere and asked where he would be the most useful. As he spoke, the energy of his transport disc crackled. Vere opened her mouth but didn’t speak, and Hector said, “I’m not going to suggest anyone’s soldiers go into battle without being a part of it myself. No soldier should ever follow a leader who would do otherwise.”

Morgan’s mouth hung open. This was a man who had vowed never to fight again, who could have fought in the battle of Dela Turkomann two years earlier but had instead chosen to remain on Edsall Dark.

“I know,” he told them when they didn’t speak. “But I believe in what Vere is doing.”

Morgan sighed and shook her head. “The round table?”

“Yes.”

Vere watched the two without saying anything. When she had proposed the round table she never expected Morgan to be so incensed by the idea. She had also never expected Hector to take up arms in defense of it.

Morgan’s voice was low and angry, as if she were young and talking back to her father. “You’d fight to protect some piece of wood, some symbol?”

“Don’t you see,” Hector said, “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to see anyone go into battle, especially not by my recommendation. Their deaths are on my conscience. But if we win out on those fields, there won’t have to be any more fighting.”

“You can’t be serious,” Morgan said.

Hector nodded. “If we defeat Mowbray, if we do it as one united galactic army, there will be no need to fight again. If the round table is populated with everyday men and women, people who just want to see people be happy rather than politicians and leaders bent on power and glory, I absolutely believe this could be the final battle.” Then, reaching out and putting a huge hand on Morgan’s shoulder, he added, “I would gladly give my own life for such a cause.”

Morgan’s eyes dropped so she was looking at her feet. Her shoulders slumped. A moment later, she turned and left the room.

“She’ll come around,” Hector said.

Vere only nodded, hoping he was right.

64

Each group of CasterLan soldiers had specific orders for what they should do outside CamaLon’s perimeter wall in preparation for the coming battle. One team scanned the fields of Aromath the Solemn, assessing the types and quantities of weapons that would be needed, where they should be placed to maximize their effectiveness, and where enemy placements would likely be set up on the far side of the field. Another team worked to prepare the dozens of trenching machines. Others set up mess tents and latrines.

As little time as they had to prepare, the workers couldn’t help but stare each time a new ship came down to the fields to unload friendly forces. The first time they saw the dark metal of one of Kaiser Doom’s enormous HC Ballistic Cruisers as it descended, everyone stopped and gazed in awe. They paused again when the Cruiser landed on the planet and the ground shook as if a tremendous earthquake were hitting the capital. Once more, they stopped when the Cruiser’s main hangar door slid open and Kaiser Doom’s troops began disembarking, along with dozens of multi-terrain transports, each made of dark metal like the rest of Doom’s fleet.

Doom’s top general, without an armed complement of troops to ensure his safety, met with Morgan and Hector in a tent just outside the capital wall. Minutes later, he headed back toward Doom’s forces, which were amassing to the left of Vere’s soldiers, and gave them their orders.

When the first of Baron Von Wrth’s forces made their way toward the surface, everyone watched the Mach-Z Cruiser land where Doom’s ships had been. The Mach-Z Cruiser looked like a gentleman’s naval ship. It had none of the hard edges and breathtaking array of cannons that most other flagship vessels were outfitted with. Instead, it was curved and sleek, relying more on positional warfare and explosive charges and gravity mines than on overwhelming amounts of cannon fire.

After the ship landed, squads of Von Wrth’s soldiers began to disembark, along with a complement of ion tanks and trench busters. Just as the previous general had done, Von Wrth’s key military leader made his way to Morgan and Hector’s command tent. A couple of minutes later, he reappeared and took a transport back to his ship. Immediately after, his troops began working on the assignments they had been given.

The same thing happened when the first Armored Raft descended and also the first Firebrand Destroyer.

Late in the day, another shift of soldiers took over for the men and women who were too exhausted to work another minute. While the second shift worked, another ship descended toward the surface. It was a fraction of the size of a Solar Carrier, a ship that would easily land in one of the Solar Carrier’s hangar bays.

Everyone paused. Instead of marveling at its size or weaponry, they stared at the small vessel because they had never seen a ship like it before, except in history books. It was roughly the same size as the Griffin Fire, but looked like the rocket ships of the very first space-faring vessels. It wasn’t awkward looking like some of the other uncommon ships the workers had seen arrive. It also wasn’t outfitted with any of the usual armaments found amongst most vessels.

“Who does that thing belong to?” a worker asked.

Unlike the flagships, this vessel landed fairly close to the command tent because there was no danger of its engines accidently causing damage below.

“Beats me,” another worker said, his weight resting on the shovel in front of him. “Looks like they’re out of the stone ages.”

The rocket ship’s hangar bay door began to open.

A CasterLan soldier, covered in dirt from head to toe, said, “With a ship like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever it is brought bows and arrows.”

The other workers laughed.

What appeared was a group of soldiers, completely covered in armor, mostly varying shades of brown and gray, but in random places a dark green shoulder plate or a crimson visor. The soldiers were slightly shorter than an average human. Each one had nearly identical armor, except that one shoulder plate might be a different color or a utility belt might hold different devices. One had green gloves. One had black gloves. Another had a gold visor. There were ten soldiers in all.