X-Calibur: The Trial (10 page)

“Lance,” she said more softly, her palm resting against his forehead. “What have they done to you?”

“Gwen,” Lance muttered as his eyes moved to focus on her. “Water, please.”

Gwen looked hurriedly around the cell. The trays of food and water had been removed, and the only source of liquid was the pool of stagnant water that had trickled down the wall. She cupped what she could in her hands and tipped it slowly into Lance's waiting mouth, ignoring the slimy residue that remained on her fingers. There was barely enough left in the small pool for a second helping.

“My arm,” Lance mumbled as his eyes unfocussed again. “Don't, let them...”

Gwen stroked his forehead tenderly, crying to herself as Lance drifted in and out of a fitful sleep.

*****

Triltan took a slow, deep breath and activated her link to the Vanguard. Within seconds her father's image appeared on the large screen at the guard's desk in front of her.

“Triltan, finally!” Caran Doc exclaimed. “We've been-. Wait, that doesn't look like the interior of the Vanguard?”

“No, father,” Triltan began before explaining what had happened since arriving at the hive.

“And the AI?” Caran Doc asked. “Merlin?”

“I suspect he's somewhere inside the network too,” Triltan explained, “but I haven't been able to locate him. Wherever he is, he'll be in as much danger as Arthur and the others.”

“I'm on my way,” Caran Doc said haughtily. “Return to the Vanguard and jump a short distance away, I'll be with you in a little over a week's time.”

“Father, I-” Triltan began before Caran Doc cut her off.

“Do as you're told,” he demanded. “We'll discuss your actions when I arrive.”

Triltan was about to agree when she paused, her hand hovering over the console before her. “No, father,” she said, looking up to meet her father's eyes.

“Triltan?” Caran Doc replied with confusion.

“I said no,” Triltan continued, a little louder than before. “I won't go and hide while I wait for you to come and rescue me. I'm not a child and I haven't been for a long time.

“These people have been kind to us, to me, and they're in trouble. I'm going to do whatever I can to help them and you're not going to stop me.”

Caran Doc opened his mouth to protest, but after a moment's hesitation he closed his eyes slowly and nodded. “No, you're right, you're not a child anymore,” he said softly. “You grow more like your mother every day, and she would have done the exact same thing. Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”

“They're my friends,” Triltan continued, “and I'm the only one here who can help them. I defeated the guards and I've infiltrated the computers. I'm going to do everything I can to rescue them.”

Caran Doc smiled despite himself. It wasn't just that she looked exactly like her mother, she had her good heart as well. He should be proud, he realised, proud that she had the courage to stand up for what she believed in, for what was right. “Be safe, Triltan,” he said at last, looking at her admiringly. “And please, don't take any unnecessary risks. I'll join you as soon as I can.”

Triltan nodded and disabled the connection before she lost her nerve. She'd done it! She'd finally stood up to her father and told him what she had been desperately trying to tell him for so long. And to say she reminded him of her mother; she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

She didn't remember much about her mother, only the faintest sensations of comfort and warmth. Of course there were pictures and videos, countless recordings of her, but only one memory which Triltan could identify as her own. It had been recorded shortly after her capsule had been implanted, her mother holding her close to her chest as she sung quietly to soothe her to sleep. Triltan still accessed it often, a comforting memory when everything seemed to be working against her.

With a new found energy and sense of purpose, Triltan returned to the large display in front of her. Arthur, Gwen and Lance were trapped inside the birthing pods and she alone was going to get them out.

*****

Lance had fallen into a deep sleep, his blackened left arm curled against his chest. Gwen tore strips of fabric from her trousers and soaked them one by one in the stagnant pool, wrapping each strip around Lance's arm while she waited for the water to soak into the next. She had no idea if what she was doing was helping, if Lance's arm even could be helped within the confines of the simulation, but she couldn't just sit there and do nothing, not while he suffered.

Some time later, when the moon was high and casting its light through the barred window, Lance began to stir. His groans of pain woke Gwen and she hurried to his side, hand on his forehead to encourage him to lie back down.

“It's okay,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Lance opened his eyes and slowly focussed upon her, his lips quivering in an unconvincing smile as her did so. “How long have I been out?” he asked.

“Most of the day,” Gwen replied. “They brought food. I saved you some.”

Gwen stood and picked up the wooden bowl from beside the door, holding it to Lance's lips as he lifted his head to drink. “You know, I feel like I should be thirsty,” he said in between swallowing. “But I still don't.”

“Me either,” Gwen replied. “I only drank some of the broth as something to do”

Lance laughed and then winced as the sudden movement pulled against the cuts on his chest. “Lie back down and get some rest,” Gwen said. “I'll watch over you.”

“And who'll watch over you?” Lance asked, his eyes already closing.

“You don't need to worry about me,” Gwen replied, stroking Lance's forehead. “You just need to remember; Arthur and Merlin are out there, and if anyone can save us, they can.”

As she thought of Arthur, beyond the castle walls and searching for the mythical artefact, her gaze drifted up to the moon. As she looked into its face it seemed to look back at her, reassuring her, its light filling the dank cell with hope.

*****

Arthur found himself watching the moonrise as they waited opposite the tavern for Ari-Dun to arrive. They'd spent the day meandering through the city, trying to ignore the constant stench of fear and despair.

No one seemed happy. The city stretched out in all directions, dwellings and markets full of miserable people trudging from one identical day to the next. They went to work, filled their bellies and retired to bed, waiting for the same day to begin anew as soon as they awoke. It seemed the alcohol served in the many taverns was the only release they had from the monotony and the routine, a moment's reprieve as they befuddled their minds and stumbled drunkenly from tavern to home.

“He's not coming,” Arthur said.

“He'll be here,” Merlin replied.

“How can you know for sure?” Arthur asked.

“He's as much a slave here as you were on the hive,” Merlin said, his voice taking on a slow, mentoring tone. “And what does any slave want?”

“To be free,” Arthur muttered.

“Exactly,” Merlin said. “And besides, I can see him approaching.”

Arthur turned to where Merlin was looking, following the old man's gaze. The light from the full moon illuminated the hunched figure of Ari-Dun dragging his leg behind him as he walked, his head down and eight eyes locked on the dirt at his feet. “Follow me,” he whispered as he passed them, not looking up.

Ari-Dun led them along the narrow street beside the tavern and through an even narrower alleyway. The wooden door at the end looked similar to the others throughout Camelot, but as Ari-Dun forced it open they were met with an unexpected sight.

The room beyond was large, larger even than the inside of the tavern. The walls were black and metallic instead of stone, the same material they would expect to see on the hive ship. High up on one wall, a viewscreen showed images from the inside of the hive, while secluded lighting in the ceiling cast no shadows unlike the torches to be found elsewhere in the city.

“What is this place?” Arthur asked as he took it all in.

“My rooms,” Ari-Dun replied, sliding painfully onto one of the metal seats. “The King believed it would be further punishment, forcing me to remember everything I've lost, but I find it strangely comforting.”

“There is only one King, and Mor-Dred isn't him,” Merlin said, gathering his robes around him as he took a seat opposite Ari-Dun.

“Please,” Ari-Dun replied, scoffing. “Save your foolish slave stories for someone who cares.”

Arthur took a third chair in between Ari-Dun and Merlin, resting his hands upon the table before him. Merlin and Ari-Dun continued to stare uncomfortably at each other until Arthur leant forwards and spoke. “Thank you, Ari-Dun, for meeting with us again,” he said. “What have you managed to learn?”

“Learn?” Ari-Dun replied. “Oh, yes, about your friends in the castle. A lot as it happens.”

Arthur waited for him to continue, though Ari-Dun seemed content to sit in silence. He seemed agitated, Arthur noticed, as though waiting for something. His hands moved from the table to his chest and then back again, never resting for more than a second or so, his eight eyes glancing repeatedly towards the door through which they had entered.

“Well?” Merlin snapped impatiently.

“Something's not right here,” Arthur said, rising slowly from his chair. “Merlin, I think this is a trap.”

As Arthur got to his feet, Ari-Dun began to laugh, a low throbbing sound which reverberated around the room. “Sit back down,
King of the Britons
,” he said sarcastically. “I've learned the King, the true King can be merciful to those who follow him.”

Arthur turned as the door was forced open and several guards filed quickly inside, surrounding the table. A heavy silence followed them, weighing down upon Arthur and Merlin, while Ari-Dun continued to chuckle to himself.

“And I've learned your friends in the castle are suffering for your insolence,” Ari-Dun continued. “But it's nothing to the pain you'll endure if you defy you King again.”

As Ari-Dun finished speaking, the surrounding guards snapped to attention at the arrival of Mor-Dred, striding confidently through the doorway with his dark cloak billowing around him.

Chapter 6

Punishment

Earth Year 6239

“Gentlemen,” Mor-Dred began as he took a seat opposite Arthur. “I hadn't expected to see you again so soon. Do you have the Grail already?”

“What is this?” Arthur demanded, taking a step back from the table.

“This is a trap, as you so rightfully surmised,” Mor-Dred replied with a smile. “Now return to your seat and we shall discuss the consequences of your actions.”

Arthur looked to Merlin, who nodded once before Arthur returned to his seat. As Mor-Dred leant back in his chair, the surrounding guards remained standing, their hands a centimetre or so from the hilts of their swords.

“Now then,” Mor-Dred continued. “Let's just be clear, shall we? You've yet to retrieve the Grail as we discussed?”

“They attempted to bargain with me, my King,” Ari-Dun interrupted. “Attempted to-”

Mor-Dred waved his hand, a theatrical gesture towards Ari-Dun. As Arthur and Merlin looked on in terrified awe, Ari-Dun froze in place, his body as still as a statue and the words he had been intending to say stuck in his throat. “Please excuse Jester here,” Mor-Dred remarked. “You just can't get the staff these days, am I right?”

They fear you
, the fragment hissed into Mor-Dred's ear.
Punish them.

Merlin remained silent, staring at the unmoving figure of Ari-Dun before glancing towards Mor-Dred's bright blue eyes. “Is he dead?” Merlin said at last.

Mor-Dred chuckled. “Oh no,” he said. “Jester will live a very, very long life of misery and servitude. I just despise being interrupted, don't you? We're so alike.”

“I am nothing like you!” Merlin barked angrily.

We are you!
the fragment cried.

“And yet we share so much of the same code,” Mor-Dred continued, still smiling. “I'm not surprised you attempted to find a way to defy me, I would have done the same in your place. Yet I'm puzzled as to why you chose Jester? Didn't he already betray you on the hive?”

“What now?” Arthur asked impatiently, his body tense and ready to fight.

“Now we continue our conversation,” Mor-Dred said tersely, his smile faltering momentarily before he seemed to compose himself once more. “Patience is a virtue. Isn't that right, Merlin? Now, where were we. Oh yes, Jester. Why him?”

Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's, still enjoying the sensation of touch despite the dire circumstances they found themselves in. “A chance meeting,” Merlin said in response. “Arthur and I believed we shared similar goals.”

“Ah,” Mor-Dred remarked. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Something like that,” Merlin agreed.

“Do you know how long he waited to come speak to me?” Mor-Dred asked. “Minutes. He knelt at me feet and told me of your plans, begged me to free him from his pain in return for betraying you. Pathetic, really.”

With another theatrical gesture from Mor-Dred, Ari-Dun began to writhe in agony as pain racked his virtual body. He attempted to scream but no sound escaped his lips, his eight eyes glazing over as he began to slip into unconsciousness. As quickly as it had begun the pain suddenly stopped, Ari-Dun's body collapsing breathlessly upon the table.

“Sit up, Jester,” Mor-Dred said matter-of-factly. “You're making the place look untidy.”

Ari-Dun pushed against the table, every movement agony as he straightened his back against the chair. “My King,” he whispered.

“Master,” Mor-Dred corrected.

“Master,” Ari-Dun replied. “Please, I delivered them as promised. I-”

“You did your duty, as I would expect of any citizen of Camelot,” Mor-Dred said. “Asking for a reward, now that was your crime.”

“Leave him be,” Arthur said. “You've done enough to him, can't you see that?”

Make him scream,
the fragment said with a laugh.
Make him bleed!

“He betrayed you?” Mor-Dred asked, confused. “And yet you defend him?”

“You have us,” Arthur continued. “Just let him go.”

“I have all of you,” Mor-Dred clarified, still confused. “Here in Camelot, everything and everyone is mine to do with as I please. And yet, you ask for mercy for the one who betrayed you? How do you do it, Merlin, interacting with these organics as you do? Their actions make no sense.”

Merlin remained silent, eyes moving between the maniacal Mor-Dred and the terrified Ari-Dun. The security system had grown quite insane, merging with Merlin's code, but he still had no idea what to do about it. Trapped as they were in Mor-Dred's virtual world, they were at the mercy of his every whim.

“So be it,” Mor-Dred said after a tense pause. “Jester, I had no idea you found solace in the rooms I provided for you. In punishment, I shall provide you with something more suited to your standing.”

Though Mor-Dred didn't make any more theatrical gestures, the surrounding room shifted and changed. The once sleek, shiny simulation of the hive was replaced by soil and dirt, packed tightly into makeshift walls. The temperature dropped noticeably and the ground rippled to form a shallow, stagnant pool. A rotten stench drifted up from it, invading their nostrils and making Arthur gag. The only thing that remained unchanged was the table and four chairs upon which they sat.

Mor-Dred smiled down at Ari-Dun. “Well, Jester?” he asked. “What do you have to say?”

“Thank you, Master,” Ari-Dun replied quietly. “Your mercy humbles me.”

“As it should,” Mor-Dred remarked triumphantly. “Now, Arthur, I did as you requested. What shall you offer me in return?”

“What do you want?” Arthur replied.

The game,
the fragment hissed.
They must play the game!

“First, I want you to accept that here, in Camelot, I am the true King,” Mor-Dred said. As he spoke, the air above the table shimmered to reveal an image of the birthing chamber back on the hive, with Triltan in her white armour studiously working at the console. Arthur and Merlin gasped in surprise, their secret hope of rescue already known to their captor.

“What is it?” Mor-Dred continued. “Is it a Teleri? The records on the hive have details on hundreds of species throughout the galaxy, but how did it end up on your ship?” Arthur and Merlin remained silent, Arthur's face taking on an ashen appearance as he stared at Triltan and realised she had no idea how much danger she was in.

“No matter,” Mor-Dred continued. “Try as she might to free you, she's only running around in circles.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Arthur asked through gritted teeth.

“Do?” Mor-Dred replied. “That depends entirely upon you, Arthur. Do you accept me as King?”

Arthur paused, looking first at Merlin and then again at the image of Triltan. “Yes” he said finally. “Yes, I accept you as King.”

“Excellent,” Mor-Dred said with satisfied a smile. “Then there is only one more thing I require.”

“And that is?” Arthur asked.

“I want you to embrace your quest,” Mor-Dred said animatedly. “You and Merlin, I want you to retrieve the Grail and return it to me. Do it to free your friends and save the day.”

“That's all?” Arthur said with surprise.

“Of course,” Mor-Dred replied with a grin. “Though I do think you need a little more motivation this time. Let's say, what, ten days? Ten days to return with the Grail or I kill your friends, including the curious creature back on the hive. Does that sounds fair?”

“What? No!” Arthur exclaimed.

“Oh, that's a pity,” Mor-Dred said. “I suppose we'll have to make it eight days instead.”

*****

Triltan scrolled through the data on the largest screen, highlighting segments to examine in more detail. It all seemed to be going much smoother than it had when she started and she was finally starting to feel like she was making progress.

The core programming controlling the pods was actually quite simple, much simpler than the complex algorithms and virtual intelligences running the various systems on the Ardent Dawn. Once she had managed to break it down, she was finally able to see where it was all connected and how she could use that to release Arthur and the others. If only she could isolate the core architecture and, wait, no, that wasn't right.

Triltan paused, staring intently at the section she'd highlighted. It looked strangely similar to a segment she'd spotted near the beginning of the subroutine.

No, not just similar.

Identical.

Manipulating a second screen, she compared both highlighted sequences and found she was correct. They were indeed identical, but that didn't make sense. Why would the program have two identical sections in two different places? Wouldn't they just perform the same function? Was it some form of redundancy, or an error on the part of the programmers?

Triltan began to feel a prickling sensation along her spine, as though someone was watching her. She turned slowly, removing the rifle from the bracket on her back as she did so. There was no one immediately visible, so she cycled through various filters on her helmet searching for heat signatures or the faint electromagnetic distortions of cloaking generators.

The birthing chamber seemed just as empty as when she'd entered, but she couldn't shake off the nagging sensation of being observed. After a further glance around the birthing chamber, she stepped to the top of the stairwell and checked on the two figures lying in the corridor below. As far as she could tell, they hadn't moved.

Returning to the console, the prickling sensation along her spine continued. Something was wrong, something she couldn't identify, but she suspected some of it was to do with the identical sequences of code she'd discovered. Placing her rifle on the table, easily within reach should she need it, she ordered the scanner to begin searching through the subroutine for patterns or repeating sections. It wasn't long before the results appeared before her.

“It's a trick,” she said aloud, angry at herself for not spotting it sooner. The more she watched, the more sections of highlighted code appeared on the screens before her, small chunks repeating throughout the much longer subroutine. “This isn't the real control program, just bits of it designed to lure me in. This has all been a complete waste of time!”

*****

Mor-Dred's guards escorted Arthur and Merlin quickly through the dark, dirty streets of Camelot. The moon continued to rise slowly behind them, large and full, illuminating their way. They walked past homes and taverns, bakeries and stonemasons, the guards at their back driving them onwards.

The guards didn't speak a single word. They didn't pause for breath or slow down when the muddy streets gave way to rocky fields on the outskirts of the city. It was only when they reached the perimeter wall that their eight eyes deviated from the path ahead, the two guards at the fore moving to lift the heavy wooden plank which held the enormous gates locked. They raised it without effort, lifting it above their heads before placing in on the floor at the feet. Arthur tested it with a gentle kick as he stepped over it and found it to be so heavy as to be immovable.

“Your King reminds you to return only when you have recovered the Grail,” the closest guard announced as he held the gate open far enough for them to pass through.

“How kind of him,” Merlin replied with a sarcastic smile. “I'd almost forgotten what we were doing out here.” The guard stood statue-like, ignoring him.

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Let's just go.”

Arthur's heart had sunk further with every step they'd taken away from the castle and towards the outskirts of the city. They were powerless to resist Mor-Dred, he'd shown them that. Arthur could still hear the agonised screams Ari-Dun had made as Mor-Dred twisted his body without ever touching him.

It reminded Arthur a little of the powers Merlin had described, the magic he believed he'd lost and was desperate to recover. Magic could do almost anything, Merlin had said. It could call forth fire and lightning and shape the very world around you. Arthur knew what Mor-Dred had done wasn't magic, but within the simulation was it really so different? Mor-Dred controlled of every aspect of the world they were in and they were truly powerless against him.

Arthur was so lost in his own dark thoughts that he failed to see Merlin stop dead in front of him as they stepped through the gates. The older man was almost knocked off his feet, Arthur's enhanced reflexes the only thing which kept them upright.

“Merlin, I'm-” Arthur began, but the look on the older man's face stunned him into silence. Merlin had grown deathly pale and suddenly looked his age, dark rings forming beneath his eyes as his brow furrowed.

“Camlann,” Merlin muttered to himself. “I had hoped never to lay eyes upon it again.”

Arthur followed Merlin's gaze as he looked out across the Fields of Camlann, the site of the final battle between Arthur and Mordred. Though Arthur succeeded in defeating Mordred, he was mortally wounded in the battle before being laid to rest on the Isle of Avalon. Though Arthur now knew it was only a story, a construct of Merlin's mind, he couldn't help but be moved by the pain on the old man's face.