

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidence.

THE GREEN KNIGHT, Copyright 2016 by Chris Dietzel. All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Watch The World End Publishing.

Click or Visit: http://www.ChrisDietzel.com

Cover Design: Grosnez

Cover Typography: TrueNotDreams Design

Editor: D.L. MacKenzie

Author Photo: Jodie McFadden

Illustrations: This book contains concept art based on various aspects of the story. For each design, an artist was given a basic description and then allowed to create their vision of that scene, character, etc. Artist biographies can be found at the end of the book.
Also by Chris Dietzel

Space Fantasy

The Excalibur – Space Lore II

The Round Table – Space Lore III

And coming soon...

Lancelot - Space Lore IV

The Sword in the Stone - Space Lore V

Avalon - Space Lore VI

Dystopian

The Theta Timeline

The Theta Prophecy

The Theta Patient (short story)

A Quiet Apocalypse

The Man Who Watched The World End

A Different Alchemy

The Hauntings Of Playing God

The Last Teacher (short story)

The Last Astronaut (short story)

Satire

The Faulty Process of Electing a Senior Class President

The Green Knight

Space Lore I

Chris Dietzel
1

Surrounding the portal, all was black and empty of life. No sound. No movement. Void of everything. Stars, billions of them, twinkled in the distance. But these far-off dots didn't seem like real things near a portal. Portals were pure energy, and everything else—for hundreds of parsecs—was only a glimmering emptiness.

Any traveler approaching a portal from a distance saw its light twinkling like a miniature sun, growing in size until it dwarfed the very vessel approaching it. No matter how large the ship, it looked puny compared to the immense disc of energy. Even flagships, thousands of times larger than a star fighter, seemed small by comparison.

The portals were so large that some scientists wanted them classified as man-made celestial bodies. Entire asteroids could pass through—if detection and prevention systems didn't keep such random objects away. In fact, even the smallest moon of Mego Turkomann could almost fit through.

Close to the portal, different people claimed to see different things in the glowing white light. Some said they saw lines of energy. Others saw swirling waves. Some observed cloud formations. Still others saw outlines of space vessels that had already passed through the portal, transporting spices or rare metals from one solar system to another. Some people even swore they could see the future when they looked into the portal's energy. Others insisted they witnessed the spirits of those they had loved and lost.

Like everything else in the galaxy, it was commonly accepted that people saw what they wanted to see, regardless of whether it was actually there.

Before any ship could enter a portal, its tinder walls had to be lowered, closing off all the windows and viewports, every exhaust port and ventilation chamber. Put even the finest crafted seagoing vessel in the ocean and drops of water will somehow find their way into the ship. Eventually, it will fill completely, drowning anyone aboard. In the same way, if a space vessel passes through a portal without its tinder walls lowered, the energy contained within the portal will find a way through every part of the ship. Instead of taking time to fill, however, it would only take a fraction of a second. Instead of drowning, all life aboard the ship would vanish, turning it into nothing more than a ghost vessel.

That is why, in those last few moments before a ship passed through a portal, everyone aboard went from seeing brilliant white light to nothing but a metal shell.

Each portal was made of three hundred and sixty cylinders, banded together into a giant loop. Each individual cylinder was larger than most vessels that passed through the portals.

The ship that appeared from the portal at the Troy sector resembled a tiny insect coming out from the energy. It was an Ornewllian Compact, a vessel that typically held no more than twenty people and carried little more cargo. The Compact's single engine was enough to get the ship everywhere it needed to go.

A moment after the ship appeared from the portal, it raised its tinder panels and the cockpit and side windows changed from being sheets of atomized steel to once again allowing the pilot and passengers to look outside the ship at the endless space all around them.

The Troy portal was one of the few around the galaxy that wasn't near a major planetary hub. At almost every other portal, an arriving ship would have its choice of two or three planets and between ten or fifteen moons to land on. From these choices were trading posts, major commercial ports, and colonies. But the Troy portal opened to empty space. No one could remember why the enormous amount of time, resources, and money had been put into building a portal there. In other words, the Ornewllian Compact had everywhere it could go. And nowhere.

A moment later, another ship began to emerge from the portal. The tip of the vessel was the same size as the entire ship it was following. But as more of the craft came into view, any other resemblance disappeared. A few seconds later, the portion of the ship that was coming through the portal was the size of the great cylinders encircling the portal's powerful white energy. As it rumbled forward, it grew from being as large as two of the cylinders, to four, to eight, to sixteen. A minute after it began appearing from the portal, it was still only halfway through the energy field, but was already so large that it took up more space than ten thousand Ornewllian Compacts. And still it came forward, each of its thirty cannons slowly appearing through the energy. The captain's deck came into sight. A while later, each of the eight grand engines—Category-5 IZer turbines—came into view.

A Solar Carrier. The flagship of the CasterLan Kingdom.

As soon as the ship was all of the way through the portal, its tinder panels raised and the viewports could be seen. At the same time, the eight cannons at the front of the ship pointed forward and opened fire on the Compact, sending yellow laser blasts exploding into the other ship's engine, frame, and the interior of the ship. Even when the passenger ship's engine went dark and the Compact began drifting into space, the larger ship's cannons continued to blast away.
2

Inside the captain's deck of the Solar Carrier, men and women in naval uniforms stood at attention, watching part of the Ornewllian Compact's rear deck explode away from the rest of the ship. As it did, sparks of energy shot in every direction like the famous lightning storms on Zephyr. Finally, the energy dissipated and all that was left of the back half of the ship was metal wreckage drifting aimlessly in space along with the bodies of those who had been huddled for safety in that part of the ship.

The Solar Carrier's laser cannons stopped firing.

The only officer on the captain's deck not wearing a naval uniform narrowed his eyes, waiting for the cannons to resume their blasts. Everyone else had flinched when Hotspur first came onto the deck dressed in full battle gear. They were wearing traditional naval suits. He was coated in space armor. Their hands and faces were visible. Only Hotspur's eyes and part of his nose and forehead could be seen through the visor of his helmet. The rest of him was covered in metallic armor that made him appear twice as large as he actually was. This for a man who was already the biggest person on the deck. Rather than the gray and charcoal blue that everyone else around him wore, Hotspur's armor was various shades of dull, matte steel. The only way to determine which kingdom he fought for was from the CasterLan crest—the blue dragon's head with five tails spreading from behind it—that appeared on either shoulder plate.

The result was a figure like a barbarous conqueror amongst pleated cadets. His shoulders were round and bulging in every direction, looking like he had been given a pair of silvery blue moons that were stuck in orbit around him. His gloves, dark and metallic gauntlets, looked more mechanical than human.

In their finely pressed uniforms, the other soldiers looked like they might tuck napkins into their shirts to prevent any stains. Hotspur, on the other hand, looked like he would relish having blood and carnage smeared all over his armor. If the rumors were true, the discoloration in the creases on his elbows and knees was just that—the blood of victims that he had allowed to remain on his armor rather than cleaning it off. "The legacy of victory and defeat," he liked to call it.

It was this man who stared at the ensign, waiting for the Solar Carrier's cannons to begin firing again. When they didn't, he brought one gloved hand up to meet the other, the thin metal lining creaking against the force of his knuckles.

Even as he looked down, the ensign knew he was being stared at by the highest ranking officer on the entire ship. Even so, he could do nothing other than look down at the vast array of symbols on display in front of him and hope he hadn't messed up too much. After all, if he began firing again it was an admission he shouldn't have stopped firing in the first place. It was better to hope something else distracted Hotspur. But of course, nothing did.

"Tell me," Hotspur said, still looking at the ensign. "Why did the cannons stop?"

These few words echoed around the deck in a thunderous mechanical voice as if the ship's computer were under orders to repeat anything its captain said.

"Sir?" the ensign said, looking up at his senior officer and the leader of the vessel.

Hotspur didn't bother to repeat his question. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment. When he reopened them, he strode a few paces across the deck to where the young man was cowering.

The ensign's feet moved ever so slightly away from his captain. Anything else, anything more noticeable, would get him sent off the deck. Or worse.

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just that—"

"It's fine," Hotspur said, standing next to the young man.

A giant gloved hand rested on the back of the ensign's neck. When Hotspur flexed his shoulder, a click and a hum of energy sounded, imperceptible to everyone else on the deck except for the ensign, whose ear was only inches away from it. In one motion, Hotspur's fingers wrapped around the ensign's neck. The man was dead before the cracking and crushing sound that his spine made finished echoing around the command deck. With one hand, Hotspur held the dead body upright until a human-shaped bot appeared and took possession of it before disappearing from the deck.

"Years of peace have made you all weak," Hotspur yelled. "What if this were a trap? What if that ship was part of a Norannado Ambush?"

Everyone aboard the vessel knew of the Norannado Ambush. Granted, it had taken place more than one hundred years earlier, but it had become galactic lore. One tiny ship had lulled a much larger army into a false sense of security before destroying the entire armada with a battery of concealed atom mines. Hotspur seemed to be the only person to think that could have happened here at the hands of the Ornewllian Compact.

Without speaking, he stood over the display panel where the ensign had been tapping in battery sequences.

"Sir?" one of the senior officers said.

Without speaking, Hotspur looked up and stared at the officer. When he did, his helmet moved slightly from the muscles in his tightened jaw that pressed against it.

"There may still be survivors in the front half of the ship," the officer said, pulling down on his vest to make sure it was straight and crisp because that was better than looking Hotspur in the eyes.

"Yes," Hotspur said, "there might be." He then resumed tapping on the display panel in front of him.

"Survivors must be brought aboard, sir."

Hotspur didn't scream or yell in a fit of rage. Instead, and to the fright of the other men and women around their captain, he burst out laughing. "Must they?"

"Yes, sir. And, as you know, we are now in Vonnegan-controlled space."

Hotspur's hands remained at the control panel, but all of his fingers curled into a pair of fists. "Yes."

"Sir, this is a violation of intergalactic law," the officer said. The more he spoke, the more confidence he got that what he was saying was the right opinion to voice, even to someone in full battle armor when everyone else was wearing uniforms.

"Would you rather violate intergalactic law or your king's orders?" asked Hotspur.

"Sir?"

"I have it directly from the king. We are to destroy the vessel. There will be no prisoners. It doesn't matter where it happens."

"But sir!"

Hotspur tapped two more buttons on the display panel. Five of the heavy cannons came back to life, tearing apart every chunk of the already lifeless Compact in front of them.

Even as the cannons fired, Hotspur left the controls, making his way toward the officer who had spoken out against what was happening. At first the officer stood his ground and looked Hotspur squarely in the eyes, sure that he had said and done the right thing. No one in their right mind would destroy a ship in Vonnegan space. But as Hotspur got closer, the metal clack of his boots ringing louder with each step, the officer saw his captain's shoulders flex, his fingers become rigid, and knew what was coming. He started backward, as far away from Hotspur as he could get.

"This," Hotspur said to the entire deck, "is what life is about. If you aren't here for war and conquest and all of life's other wondrous happenings, why are you here at all?"

Everyone else nearby moved away from the retreating officer, each pretending an urgent duty had come up on another part of the deck. As Hotspur came upon the man, the carrier's cannons automatically ended the firing sequence he had programmed and the officer and Hotspur both watched as bodies and parts of the ship glided and drifted through space without any more life or purpose.

"Ensign Tolliver," Hotspur called out.

"Yes, Captain," a man on the other side of the deck said.

"Release our dragon."

"But, sir," the officer in front of Hotspur said, "we're in Vonnegan space."

"King's orders," Hotspur said, before his gloved hand reached out for the officer's neck and the familiar crack sounded once more.
3

The Solar Carrier angled back toward the portal like the lumbering giant it was. But before it returned through the energy field, a tiny flash sparked from the side of the ship and began making its way toward the wreckage of the Compact.

It was not another laser blast. Nor was it any variety of missile. The small metal rocket was no larger than a man's hand. One second before it would have hit the ship's remains, it burst into a ball of light. The original metal projectile was gone. In its place was a wall of luminous colors in front of the wreckage in the design of a dragon's head with five tails. The same emblem that was on Hotspur's shoulders. The symbol of the CasterLan Kingdom. The light display was space's version of a flag waving in the breeze, and it would remain there to let every passing ship know exactly who had destroyed the Compact.

Then the Carrier passed back through the portal, leaving the banner and the drifting wreckage for whomever would find it.

4

Every possible type of alien drank at Eastcheap. Aliens ranging from those with no legs to those with over one hundred tiny appendages congregated in a den of thieves and drunks. Skin color varied from white to blue to orange to silver. Skin texture ranged from smooth to hairy to scaly to horned.

Many of these went unseen, however, due to how little light was available in the establishment. While the doorway and bar were lit, much of the rest of the room remained cast in shadows. The patrons liked it that way because most of them wanted as little attention on them as possible.

The establishment was filled with smoke and clanks of glass. It was just as likely to hear laughter as it was to hear a death threat. Some tables had four or five stools around them. Others didn't have any because the seats had been broken during the previous brawl, of which there were many.

To combat the noise of persistent threats and violence, the bartender hired a Quaddrolop to provide music. Three of the Quaddrolop's four arms played different instruments simultaneously. The fourth arm held a glass of ale. The longer the Quaddrolop played, the more he drank. Sometimes this resulted in a drunken Quaddrolop becoming depressed and playing gloomy music. Other times, he became effusive and played upbeat songs.

On nights the Feedorian bartender was in a good mood, he thought of one random characteristic and awarded a free drink to whichever patron qualified. This also served to keep everyone contented and to delay the next round of fighting. One night it was the customer with the most eyes. A Cryptic, all two hundred of its miniature eyes gleaming with pride, accepted the free drink. Another night, it was the patron with the most scales. That had been the evening that Traskk, a Basilisk, had won. One night, anyone with red skin. Another night, anyone with horns on their face. On the rare occasion there were no brawls in his bar, the Feedorian awarded free drinks to entire groups of customers. But that prize wasn't given out very often because there were almost always clashes in Eastcheap. Sometimes, multiple fights simultaneously.

The brawls and violence left the bartender miserable more often than he was happy, because instead of serving drinks to patrons he spent his time yelling for the fights to stop (during the less severe brawls) or hiding behind the bar until the fight was over (for the more common and deadly clashes). To add to this, he had to explain to the local authorities why so many dead aliens were found in the alley outside his bar.

"Install a Treagon barrier," the authorities said. "That'll cut down on the violence."

"I did!" the Feedorian bartender replied, throwing his four hands in the air.

A Treagon barrier was a device that prevented electronics of any kind from operating. Blasters couldn't shoot. Bots couldn't function. Explosives couldn't be detonated remotely. This had completely stopped the blaster shootouts that had occurred in his early days as a bartender. But now, instead of lasers zipping in every direction, the drunks and thieves just pulled out knives or used their teeth or claws to settle disputes. It also hindered the bartender. Now, he had no bot beside him to help pour drinks or, much more important, to decipher all of the different languages when aliens asked for drinks.

The first time Traskk had gone up and ordered another round following the Treagon device's installation, the bartender could only look at him in confusion. Basilisks have short tempers anyway, but especially if they are inebriated. The only reason the bartender was still alive was that Vere happened to be walking by at the same time and translated the order into Basic. Even as he poured the drinks, the bartender could hear Traskk growling, his foot-long tongue slithering in and out between fangs the length of a pitcher of ale. All of this as if the incident had been an intentional slight.

There was no winning for the Feedorian. It was enough to make the bartender, a little alien with gray skin who had lived a century longer than anyone else who had ever been to his bar, wonder why he had ever thought opening such an establishment was a good idea.

Traskk—one of the many aliens he could no longer understand—was still in Eastcheap. He was always there because Vere was always there. Wherever she went, the giant Basilisk was nearby. Along with Fastolf, Occulus, and A'la Dure. Each day, the four humans and one enormous reptile sat at the same table, in the far corner of Eastcheap. They liked being away from the entrance and from the bar because those were the two most common places for fights to break out.

From their booth, they drank and laughed all day and all night. Seven days a week. No one cared that Fastolf was twice as heavy as anyone else at the table or that Occulus was nearly three times as old as anyone else. No one commented that Vere and A'la Dure, while certainly able to handle themselves in a fight, seemed too young to be spending every day in a place like Eastcheap.

When a fight broke out the five of them bet on who would be victorious. Each time Fastolf or Vere went to the bar, the other person challenged them to pick someone's pocket. Each time Fastolf returned he kept the treasure or used it to buy more drinks. Each time Vere returned, she just as quickly slipped the newfound money into an unsuspecting patron's pocket and laughed until the wallet was inevitably found and another fight ensued. If one of the brawls got too close to their table, all of them, except for Occulus, lumbered out from the booth and partook in the fun.

As they watched, a woman in her late twenties, maybe the same age as Vere, came running through the door. She didn't make it six feet before she bumped into a Gthothch, an ungainly alien with short legs but a long torso and arms. The Gthothch also had no hair, almost no neck, and skin the texture of stone. When she jostled him, the Gthothch jerked forward and splashed his drink all over himself. Growling, the stone alien turned to see who would pay for the rudeness. But in her rush the woman was oblivious to the accident she had caused and was already darting from table to table, looking for a specific customer.

Instead of confronting her, the Gthothch turned around and found a pack of MaqMacs, a tiny alien race known for their mining abilities. Of course, he blamed them for the spilled drink. The Gthothch roared. With one blow of his fist, he smashed the nearest table to bits. Most of the MaqMacs offered little bleats as they scurried away. But the leader, or at least the one wanting to make a name for himself, calmly pulled out his blaster and aimed it at the Gthothch's granite face. The unfortunate alien couldn't read Basic and didn't know a Treagon barrier prevented such weapons from working. Instead of a laser blast hitting the stone giant's forehead and leaving a smoking hole, the blaster only clicked each time the MaqMac pulled the trigger.

"Poor little guy," Fastolf said as he and Vere and the others at their table watched.

A'la Dure nodded and rolled her eyes. In addition to not speaking, she rarely showed emotion—other than slight contempt or disdain—one of the reasons she was a perfect fit in the group.

Occulus, the only member of the group with gray hair, sighed and said, "Poor little guy, indeed."

Fastolf pushed money into the middle of table and pointed at the Gthothch.

"It's not even your money," Vere said, knowing it belonged to someone who didn't know they were missing it.

"Neither is yours!" was the only retort he could come up with.

No one would take the bet because it was obvious what would happen. Everyone except the MaqMac, who kept clicking the blaster's trigger over and over, knew how things would turn out. By now, the MaqMac's confidence was gone and his tiny shoulders were slumped. The blaster began shaking uncontrollably in his hands.

"No fighting!" the bartender yelled, first in Basic, then in every other alien language he knew.

The Gthothch tore the useless blaster from the little miner's hand, crushing it into scrap metal and tossing it behind him. Then he lurched forward, snatching the MaqMac off the ground with one hand. The MaqMac's torso was so dainty that the Gthothch's stone fingers wrapped around it with ease. The outcome was predictable. The only question was in its specificity. Would the Gthothch tear the miner's head off, rip his body in two, crush his chest cavity and leave him as a puddle of goo, or perhaps throw him all the way to the other side of the bar?

A pair of Watchneens observed the fracas with glowing red eyes. Watchneens were the only known alien race whose blood was energy rather than liquid, and red flashes pulsed under their transparent skin as they approached the Gthothch. During the disruption, the Watchneens' drinks had been knocked over. Seeing that it was unlikely there would be an apology forthcoming, the Watchneens tackled the Gthothch. As soon as they did, the MaqMac scurried away with a series of bleeps and was gone.

"Well, I didn't see that happening," Fastolf said, retrieving his money from the table too quickly for anyone to make a counter wager.

Everyone else near the Gthothch and the pair of Watchneens moved away to give the aliens room to settle their differences.

"No fighting!" the Feedorian cried, but it was useless. He closed his eyes and let the brawl play out.

The fight didn't last long. The Watchneens were ferocious combatants and their claws would cut most anyone else in the bar to shreds. But on the Gthothch, the claws only flashed sparks against the stone skin. One Watchneen was on the Gthothch's back, clawing at his face and biting everywhere its mouth could find, but the Gthothch was bothered only by the sparks flashing in his delicate eyes. Despite having to squint and groan, he was able to focus on the other Watchneen, whose hands he took in his own before crushing them. The Watchneen howled in pain, his red blood-energy misting up toward the ceiling before dissipating. The Gthothch let the alien go. Defeated, the first Watchneen was able to get back to his feet, look down at his crushed hands, then dart for the exit, leaving his companion alone.

The other Watchneen, still on the rock alien's back, gave a cry of indignation at his friend's betrayal. Then he was ripped away by a mighty stone hand. Instead of fleeing like his friend, this Watchneen became even more furious in his attack, as if everything up to this point had been a warm-up. His legs clawed so fast they were a blur. Sparks flew from the Gthothch's chest where the claws scratched at an amazing speed. His hands did the same thing. The Gthothch cringed at the bright sparks flying in front of him and his shirt was completely torn to shreds, but otherwise he was uninjured. With a roar of his own, he took this Watchneen's hands in his palms and crushed them as well. The Watchneen stopped fighting and cried out as his red life force escaped from his pulverized hands. After being released from the giant stone grip, this Watchneen also fled the bar.

Everyone in Eastcheap, except for Vere, applauded the Gthothch's sporting gesture of letting the Watchneens go. The bartender, happy not to have more dead bodies in his bar, gave the Gthothch a complimentary drink. Vere withheld her applause, not because she disapproved of the sportsmanship that had been shown, but because she was too busy watching the woman who had rushed into the bar and unknowingly started the fight.

The woman was still going around from one dimly lit table to another until she saw everyone who was seated at it. Once she had, she continued to another part of the bar. By the time the fight was over and the applause had died down, the woman was at the table next to Vere's.

That was when Vere got her first good look. The woman looked frantic but not scared. Each time she had gotten to another table she had assessed its occupants and moved on. When a table of Jur-Nan assassins hissed at her, she had stared them down rather than run away. Seeing her up close now, Vere noticed she had big blue eyes and short, bushy hair that bounced as she darted to and from each table.

Finally arriving at the only table she hadn't yet intruded upon, the woman scanned the faces, and then her eyes lit up.

"Vere, I— " the woman started to say.

"I don't know who you think I am," Vere said, her gray eyes shining, "but I can assure you that you're mistaken."

"You're Vere CasterLan," the woman said, her eyes not wavering. "Daughter of Artan the Good. Heir to the throne."

"Friend, I think you must be confused," Vere said under her breath, her eyes narrowing with irritation. But as she said it, she also scanned the bar to see if anyone else had overheard what the woman had said.

Traskk gave a soft growl, his diamond-shaped reptile eyes narrowing at the person bothering them. The scales on the back of his neck went up and the entire table moved when his giant tail, hidden beneath them, twitched with anger.

Vere put a hand on the giant reptile's shoulder, then asked the name of the woman in front of them.

"Morgan," the woman said. "Morgan Le Fay. I come from Edsall Dark, where you are from," emphasizing you as if it were an insult, "and where your father still rules." The woman's voice grew louder: "And I don't have time for these games."

"Listen," Vere said. She tried to take the woman by the shoulder but the woman jerked away.

"Part of your father's fleet just destroyed a ship full of people who didn't do anything wrong," Morgan said. "He had them killed for no reason."

Fastolf gulped another portion of his drink and belched before saying, "And?"

"And they did this in Vonnegan space," Morgan said, her eyes narrowing as she gazed at the fat man for the first time, knowing immediately that she didn't like him.

Sitting on the far side of Traskk, Fastolf felt safe enough to ignore her dirty look and instead shrugged and kept drinking.

"Listen," Vere said, "I'm sure this is all some sort of misunderstanding, but—"

"But what?" the woman yelled. "I know it must be fun to spend your days drinking and thieving, but there's going to be all-out war if you don't get up off your seat and do something."

Before Vere could say anything, Fastolf leaned forward and said, "Honey, don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

Morgan stared at Fastolf. Her nostrils flared, then she picked an empty glass off the table and threw it at the fat man's face. "Call me honey again and I'll tear your nose off."

Traskk, whose reflexes were stunningly quick, snatched the glass before it hit Fastolf's face and set it back down.

"Listen, I'm sure this is all some sort of mistake," Vere said.

"Yeah, sure," the woman said. "Tell that to the fleet of Vonnegan ships that are massing at Mentieth."
5

In front of the Mentieth portal, deep in the space ruled by Mowbray Vonnegan, an Athens Destroyer moved itself closer and closer to the circular confines of the energy field that would transport the vessel from one portal to another. From the edge of the Vonnegan Empire to the edge of the CasterLan Kingdom. As it did, its tinder walls slid down over every part of glass and every exhaust port. All of the destroyer's cannons were facing forward like forty black eyes staring in judgment.

After the ship disappeared into the portal, another Athens Destroyer moved into position to do the same thing. Behind it, another was ready. And another. And another after that. Nearly one hundred Athens Destroyers in all, each fully equipped for war, were aligned in a perfect row so that if you faced one, all of the ships behind it seemed to vanish. And one by one, each ship entered the portal.

6

Vere motioned everyone aside to make room for their guest.

"I don't want to sit," Morgan said. "I want to get back to Edsall Dark." She looked at Vere and added, "With the one person who may be able to stop this war."

"War?" Fastolf laughed, then took another drink. To him, nothing was happening in the galaxy except what was going on in Eastcheap, which was why he turned his attention to the bar and to ordering another round of drinks rather than letting the visitor ruin his good mood.

"There has to be a misunderstanding," Vere said again, because it was the only thing she could think to say and because she had no intention of leaving Eastcheap.

Traskk and A'la Dure remained quiet. Only Occulus, who had lived twice as long as anyone else at the table, spoke up: "Who sent you here?"

"Who sent me?" Morgan said, looking at the old man and then at everyone else seated around her. She shook her head as if she wanted to take each of their drinks and smash the glasses over their heads. "Who sent me? A war is going to break out because her father"—she jabbed a finger at Vere—"ordered innocent aliens to be blasted away. In Vonnegan space, of all places. And you're asking who sent me? Common sense sent me."

In a soft voice, rubbing his gray beard as he spoke, Occulus said, "What you're saying just doesn't make any sense." There was no irritation in his tone, only confusion.

Vere ignored what her friend had to say. She was too busy staring at Morgan, her mouth slightly open, trying to decide if she should take offense at having a finger jabbed in her direction. Also, she was wondering if there was any point in trying one last time to claim she wasn't who Morgan thought she was.

Just then, Fastolf returned from the bar with another handful of glasses, each filled with gold liquid. One for everyone except Morgan.

"You're not still talking about nonsense, are you?" he asked Morgan. Then, not waiting for a response, he raised his drink in the air and said, "To horrendous blunderings!"

Morgan shook her head and slammed her fist against the table. To Vere, she said, "Why are you associating with people like him? You, the heir to the kingdom, and you're drinking with this... mess."

"Hey," Fastolf said, leaning forward, "If you're going to keep sweet-talking me you should at least buy me dinner first."

Morgan's other fist appeared on the table alongside the first. Her tongue poked into the side of her mouth, causing her cheek to stick out. Her nostrils flared. As she let the anger dissipate, she continued looking at Vere instead of at the man who had taunted her. But then, shaking her head, realizing there was simply too much irritation to ignore, she lunged across the table, one hand grabbing as much of Fastolf's left ear as she could find, ensuring he couldn't move away, and the other punching him twice on the eye.

Traskk roared and stood up from the table. When he did so, his tail broke the chair he had been sitting on and slammed into the wall with enough force that the plaster crumbled away. With his teeth bared at her, each longer than her fingers, she quickly forgot about the insult she had been given and let go of Fastolf's ear.

The fat man howled with indignation at being treated so poorly. It was impossible for anyone not to notice how quickly his eye was swelling. He kept touching his ear, kept muttering that it felt as if it were going to fall off.

Morgan wasn't worried about him fighting back. She was sure she could beat him in the close confines of the bar or the open air of the alley outside the bar or anywhere else. What she was worried about was the giant reptile standing over her, taller than any human or any other two-legged creature Morgan had ever seen.

"Okay, okay, everyone," Vere said to everyone, but she was looking at Traskk and reaching toward him with her open hand as if to soothe him.

A strand of saliva stretched from one of Traskk's upper teeth to one of his bottom, and Morgan was sure her entire head could squeeze in between the gap. Without even being conscious of it, Traskk's tail waved back and forth, a clear sign that any Basilisk was angry. Morgan pursed her lips shut and hoped the tail would stop moving, knowing that the majority of people who ever saw a Basilisk's tail move that much didn't live to see anything else afterward.

"It's okay," Vere said again. "Let's all be civil."

"But she started it!" Fastolf yelled.

Vere shot back an exasperated look. "I said, let's be civil."

"Man," Fastolf said, rubbing his eye and trying to get sympathy from anyone who would give it to him. "I think my eye socket is broken."

"Serves you right," Morgan said.

"Damn it, I said let's be civil!" Vere hissed.

Only Occulus seemed unaffected by the punches that had been thrown next to him and by the giant yellow reptile baring his teeth. "It doesn't make any sense," he said again.

A'la Dure, who had been quiet throughout the altercation, put a hand on Traskk's side. Only then did the reptile gaze back into the bar to see everyone was staring at him. A group of Hoh'ksons, skinny pale things with enormous ears and barely noticeable slits for eyes, were retrieving money they had tossed into the center of the table they were sitting at, probably wagering how long it would have taken Traskk to kill everyone else at the table. Traskk turned his head and stared at the Hoh'ksons until they all made little hiccup noises and slouched down in their chairs.

Occulus held his drink with both hands and looked in Vere's direction. "Whenever something like this happens," he said, sounding like a professor, "you have to ask yourself who benefits the most. That's the only way to figure out true motives. Your father"—Vere frowned but there was no point in pretending to be anyone other than who Morgan knew she was anyway—"doesn't benefit at all. In fact, he has the most to lose. The Vonnegan fleet has more starships and more firepower than the CasterLans have ever had. And everyone knows Mowbray has been wanting an excuse to expand his empire. Now, with the attack taking place in his own territory, he has it. I just can't believe your father would order the attack. He's the person who will pay the highest price."

"He ordered the attack," Morgan said again. She tried to focus on getting the others to believe her, but every time the Basilisk breathed a whistle of air escaped between his huge fangs where his tongue, longer than her hair, slithered in and out of his mouth.

Vere ignored Morgan. "Then who benefits, Occulus?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," he said. "Something isn't right. Your father would have to be insane to order an attack that brings the Vonnegan fleet to him."

"He did," Morgan said.

"But if he did—"

"He did!"

"But if he did," Occulus continued, "what is he aiming to accomplish by doing it? I'm afraid to say it, but there won't be a CasterLan Kingdom anymore. Only a much larger Vonnegan Empire."

Vere's mouth curled up at the side when she asked Morgan, "You don't really think he ordered it, do you?"

"Oh, he ordered it, all right," Morgan said.

"And how exactly would you know that?"

Morgan reached into her back pocket to retrieve a paper. Her brow furrowed. Her hand searched her other pocket. Then another.

Vere, knowing what had happened, tried not to laugh. "Just give it back," she said to Fastolf.

The heavy-set man, his glass held up to his eye to keep the swelling down, feigned indignation.

"I don't understand where—" Morgan started to say, but then remembered Fastolf walking past her to get the last round of drinks. She was in the middle of a pack of thieves and had already fallen victim without knowing it.

As soon as her eyes focused on him and her fingers curled into fists, Fastolf made sure Traskk was in her way and then tossed the paper at her.

"A copy of the orders that Hotspur received from the king," she said, unfolding the document.

But before Vere could see what proof Morgan had or didn't have, another fight erupted on the far side of the room. The bartender could do nothing but shake his head and pull glasses back from the bar so fewer things got broken.

A poor Wren, covered from head to toe with beautiful cream-colored fur, was being attacked by a pair of men who swung their barstools at it. Wrens were typically good-natured but because they were wider than they were tall, a confined space like Eastcheap often caused problems. This Wren had apparently knocked an entire table over—purely by accident—and there were thirsty drunks who took that personally.

The Wren had one man over its head before tossing him ten feet across the room, while the other man broke a barstool over the alien's back.

Through the fighting, a man ran into the bar, looked around from table to table, then dashed right past the violence without acknowledging it. Out of breath, the man stopped at the same table Morgan was now sitting at.

"Vere, I—" the man said, hands on his knees.

"What is this, a convention?" Vere said, lowering her eyes, not wanting anyone else in the establishment to know who she was.

"I'll drink to that!" Fastolf said, raising his glass. When no one else joined him, he shrugged and downed the drink by himself.

"You need to come to Edsall Dark right away," the man said.

"I know, I know," Vere said, rolling her eyes. "Something about a war, right?"

"A war?" Still panting, the man squinted with confusion. "I don't know anything about a war."

And for a moment, Vere thought everything might be okay after all. Maybe this truly was some sort of misunderstanding.

"Why are you here then?" she said.

"Because your father is dying."
7

The king's bed was in the middle of the room. An arm's length away from each bedpost were four stone columns with designs etched into each one. Three people were gathered around the ornate bed. A woman, her gray hair with blond hints still visible, held one of the king's hands in her own. A young man stood over the bed, his jaw twitching back and forth as he listened to the groans of his ruler. His bushy blond hair fell down over his eyes so none of the others could see any emotion that might be coming over him. A physician walked around the bed with a small cup of liquid.

"Drink this, Your Highness," the doctor said, but most of the liquid dripped down the king's chin. The little that did enter his mouth only made him cough.

"You're getting it on his robes," the woman said, taking the cup from the physician, then attempting it herself.

At the door, a fourth man stood, watching the proceedings in silence.

There were no living quarters situated at a higher point in all the kingdom than the king's chamber. Half of every wall was covered in blue and gold tapestry similar to the sheets the king lay atop and that decorated his pillows. Within the fabric was the repeated symbol of a dragon's head with five tails. The other half of the curved walls had floor-to-ceiling windows that offered views of the planet.

To the east, the business district and thousands of people scurrying here and there, endless movement and energy, everyone trying to get rich off of someone else.

To the south, the space harbor. Launch pads and docking stations, tiered one upon another, over one hundred levels in all, each with a ship landing for the night or getting ready for takeoff. Above them, a line of starships of every make and size waited for clearance to land at Edsall Dark. Others taxied into position to leave the airspace and go out into the solar system.

To the west, the great fields of Aromath the Solemn. Flat lands of gray grass for miles and miles where, hundreds of years earlier, the former ruler had vanquished his brother, Methus the Vengeful. It was a battle that every child on Edsall Dark learned about in school—two brothers, both flying the same banner, entire armies unsure who was friend and who was foe, until one brother sought out the other and cut him down. Beyond the fields were the forests of tears, where men vanished and where souls were said to roam. And still further, barely visible from the king's chamber, the great snowcapped mountains where it was said the gods had once lived and now, where they slept.

Finally, to the north lay Idin's Mountains, a range of peaks that stretched into the distance. Along the entire capital perimeter stood a wall bearing the same name. Idin's Wall curved all the way from the northern side of the capital, around the business district to the east, the space harbor to the south, and the fields to the west. The wall was thousands of years old, a reminder of the days when armies traversed across ground on their way to invade kingdoms rather than arriving by starships. If an invader were to take that approach today, their best bet would be to do it from the open fields where brother slew brother so long ago. But even there they were blocked by the wall, and that had given the kingdom a sense of calm that came with being protected.

Knowing there was nothing else he could do for his ruler, the physician gathered his supplies and excused himself. On his way out, the man in the doorway stepped aside, but only after putting a hand on the doctor's shoulder to stop him in place.

"How is he?" Hotspur asked, his eyes red. Having just arrived back on the planet, he was tired and more irritable than usual.

"Our lord does not have much time," the doctor said quietly, his eyes looking straight down at his feet.

"How much time?"

"Maybe a week."

"Maybe?" Hotspur said, his fingers curling to take hold of the doctor's uniform. If he were on his Solar Carrier and one of his men responded with "maybe," it would be the end of a career.

The physician was unsuccessful in pulling away from Hotspur's grip. Resigned, he said, "The king is a fighter. The sickness would have already killed lesser men. But I cannot be sure how much longer he can fight it."

Hotspur took a deep breath, then released the other man's shirt and watched him hobble quickly down the hallway.

Lady Percy, the king's wife, spoke to her son, who didn't bother to push the curls of blond hair away from his eyes so he could see her speak. Without saying anything else, she excused herself, passing by Hotspur without acknowledging him. Only when Modred was by himself, over the body of his stepfather, did Hotspur step forward.

"How soon until the Vonnegan fleet arrives?" Modred asked, finally moving curls of bushy hair away from his eyes and resting his body against the side of one of the columns.

"One hundred and sixty-five hours."

There were many reactions Hotspur might have expected from Modred. He could have asked how their own fleet was preparing. He could have asked if the defenses were ready. He could have become panicked or he could have stomped his foot and said it would be a good day for killing once Mowbray's fleet did finally arrive.

Instead, Modred laughed. He laughed!

Hotspur's eyes narrowed at the young man's insolence. Any other person in the kingdom, except for the king and Hotspur's own family, would be dead right now. Without even realizing he had done so, his fingers had tightened and were ready to crush bones. He was so angry he almost felt bad for the first person he would see upon leaving the king's quarters.

"One hundred and sixty-five hours?" Modred asked.

"Yes."

"Such precision. Not one hundred and sixty-four or one hundred and sixty-six?"

"No."

Modred stopped laughing then, seeing he was pushing his luck. Hotspur worked for him, but it was only the two of them in this room—in his current state the king would never know what was being said or done. He saw from the way Hotspur's hands were clenched that he was envisioning a gruesome death.

"Very good," Modred said, clearing his throat and attempting to adopt a serious tone. "Why so long?"

"So long?"

"There are countless portals in their kingdom, just as there are in ours. Their fleet could jump from one portal to another, then to another, and be at our doorstep in a few hours."

"They entered our space at the Troy portal."

"Where the attack took place?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And," Hotspur said, looking out the window at the sky and all the infinite number of stars that could be seen in the distance, "they are traveling through normal space to get here so as to avoid all of the portals."

"Why?"

"I think they want to send a message on their way here."

Modred chuckled again, and Hotspur swore to himself that if the blond bastard laughed one more time during this conversation he would take his life right there, king's stepson or not.

Modred patted Hotspur on the shoulder. When he did, a dull thud sounded. Hotspur seemed not to notice. "Well," said Modred, "I'm sure you'll have the fleet ready when they do arrive."

Without waiting for a response, Modred left the king's chambers, leaving Hotspur alone with his deathly ill king.

For the first time since carrying out the attack on the Ornewllian Compact, Hotspur wondered what state of declining health his king had been in when he had given the fateful orders. None of the conclusions he came to made him feel any better.

8

"Your name?" Vere said to the man standing over their table.

"Baldwin, My Lady."

Fastolf snorted with laughter. Traskk and A'la Dure looked at each other and then at Vere, wondering who the person was that had been sitting in a bar with them for the past six years.

"If you value your health," Vere said between gritted teeth, "You won't call me that again. I'm not your lady or your anything else."

"My Lady!" Fastolf said in between gulps of his drink. "My Lady, My Lady!"

Vere sighed. "See what you've done," she said to Baldwin. "How do you know my father?"

"I'm one of his physicians."

The side of Vere's mouth curled up as a thought made her look back at Morgan. "And how did you know about the attack at Troy?"

The other woman raised her chin and jutted her shoulders back. "I was Hotspur's top lieutenant."

Those at the table who knew of Hotspur—and the reputation he had earned as an ambitious and bloodthirsty officer rising through the ranks of the CasterLan Kingdom—groaned, and Morgan's chin immediately dropped lower than it had been before she bragged.

Baldwin said, "I swore not to tell anyone about your father's health. But oath or no oath, I can't let his only daughter go without knowing what's happening."

"And what do you expect me to do now?"

"Wait," Fastolf said. For a rare moment, his attention was on something other than drinking, stealing, or laughing. "You mean you really are the person these two"—he motioned at Morgan and Baldwin—"say you are?"

Baldwin seemed utterly baffled by the reactions of the people around him. A'la Dure said nothing, but furrowed her eyebrows and looked around for someone to explain what all of this meant. Occulus was the only one who looked like he wasn't surprised by anything that had happened around the table.

Morgan smacked her palms against the table and said, "We're wasting time. We have to get going back to Edsall Dark."

"Everyone, calm down," Vere said, looking as though she needed to heed her own advice. She glanced at Occulus for help but the old man only leaned back in his chair to see what fascinating turn of events might occur next.

Baldwin said, "Well, you have to come see your father. And you have to—"

"Don't tell me what I have to do. I don't have to do anything," Vere said in a tone that no one, not sage advisor Occulus nor best friend A'la Dure nor giant reptile Traskk would argue with.

Fastolf belched and said, "You have to have another drink, My Lady!"

Vere smiled. "Okay, I guess there is one thing I have to do."

"This is absurd," Morgan said as Fastolf walked behind her to get another round. "The future of the CasterLan Kingdom is drinking her life away while the Vonnegan Empire prepares to destroy it."

When no one else seemed as outraged as she was, Morgan picked up an empty glass, then brought it down on the table, smashing it to pieces. Flecks of glass sprayed everyone else at the table, causing Traskk to growl and make his tail sway back and forth under their chairs.

Dismayed, Baldwin looked at everyone gathered around the table. This wasn't at all what he had expected to find upon leaving his post in search of the missing CasterLan heir who, as he watched, was covering her face and groaning. The future of their kingdom was not looking very bright.

"Give me some time to think," Vere said.

Morgan reminded them that they had no time to waste.

"Damn it, I said let me think."

Morgan was on her feet, ready to swing across the table at Vere. Vere did the same. Both of them had fingers curled into loose fists and were ready to dive across the table at the person who was infuriating them.

Traskk gave a soft hiss and both women reluctantly backed down.

"What do you think?" Vere said to Occulus after flexing her fingers to get the tension out of them.

She could have asked A'la Dure, but her friend never voiced an opinion—or said anything at all. Traskk didn't care about human problems. And Fastolf, who was returning with a fresh round, was always too drunk to offer sound advice. Occulus was the only person in her group who she could trust to be objective and reasonable when called upon.

"Something else has to be going on," he said. "I can't believe that a king on his deathbed would want war."

"The king did order the fleet to destroy a ship in Vonnegan space," Morgan said.

"And the king doesn't have much longer to live," Baldwin added.

Occulus rubbed his chin as he thought. "Even so, one plus one always equal two. In this case, however, it seems to equal three, which means we are missing something." Lacking any hair on top of his head, he ran a hand through the white hair of his beard. "The king has no reason to call for an attack before he dies. He hasn't lost his mind. He's Artan the Good, not Artan the Vicious or Artan the Warmonger."

Baldwin was cringing at something Occulus had said.

"Out with it, doc," Morgan snapped.

"It's that, well, the king's mental state has been deteriorating."

Vere's mouth dropped open. Occulus shook his head in disbelief. Morgan said, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," and then smashed another empty glass on the table.
9

The scum of Folliet-Bright wasn't limited to Eastcheap. The entire colony, the area of the otherwise inhospitable planet, was filled with thieves, gamblers, and murderers. They were the retched of the galaxy and they were in every alley and at every corner. And they weren't dumb. Steal enough spaceships and you become attuned to every possible security measure and life form near you. Evade intergalactic bookies to whom you owe a debt for long enough and you gain a sixth sense of danger around every corner. Kill one other alien, just one, and you know that you have to do everything you can think of for the karma of the universe not to pay you back.

When a gust of wind came through the alleys near Eastcheap, a Trungghodorian who had killed a dozen men in another part of the galaxy, shivered and found someplace else to go. A pack of Pol-Ites, in the middle of dividing the contents of a wallet between them, pulled their hoods over their heads and darted away. A Zzer, sure he was about to have all ten of his hands chopped off, hid in a trash bin in the hopes that the goons hired by Arc-Mi-Die wouldn't find him there.

Another gust of wind passed through the alleys. In the confines of the colony's protective barrier, there was supposed to be no wind. Even though this was out of the ordinary, none of the aliens had a particular reason to suspect trouble was coming. And yet all of them sensed they had better move on from where they were. All of them except the Zzer, who didn't dare budge from his hiding spot under the trash.

Wrappers and old papers scuttled down the alley as the wind picked up. The Zzer gave a faint whimper.

Something was coming. Something big and monstrous.
10

"Why doesn't anyone else know about my father's condition?" asked Vere.

The physician shrugged. "Lady Percy didn't want us to tell anyone, so we didn't."

"Sickness can make good men evil," Morgan said.

Occulus nodded. "That's true, but it still doesn't add up. There is something else we're missing."

Baldwin turned to Vere. "So you'll come home then?" he said, eyes large and pleading.

Although the same height as Fastolf, Baldwin was easily half his weight. Traskk towered over him and outweighed him by hundreds of pounds of muscle. Baldwin was sure every woman gathered around the table could beat him in an arm wrestling match or a fistfight. So, after he spoke, begging Vere to return home, the only person he felt comfortable making eye contact with was Occulus.

Fastolf laughed and got up from the table to get more drinks for everyone.

"Just give me a little bit of time to get my head straight," Vere said. "Go back to acting like it's a normal day."

"If it was a normal day, I'd be on a Solar Carrier," Morgan said.

"I'd be taking care of your sick father," Baldwin said.

"Damn you both, you know what I mean."

Occulus cleared his throat and said, "Mentioning Artan the Good makes me wonder: if you could describe your life in one word, what would it be?"

"Discouraged," Morgan muttered.

Traskk growled something in Basilisk that no one except Vere and A'la Dure could understand.

Baldwin said, "I'd like to aim for how Artan the Good is known. Or Krüger the Sympathetic. But I guess anything is better than some of the ones that were given out centuries ago: Krakuan the Incontinent, Merknon the Impotent, or Crazy Anne the Maniac. Talk about the Dark Ages!"

Fastolf came back with another round of drinks. As he pushed one to everyone except Morgan and Baldwin, he said, "I'll be known as Fastolf the Hilarious."

"More like, the Fat Mess," Morgan said.

"Fastolf the Deceitful," Vere said, smiling.

Fastolf held a hand to his heart, acting as if he had been stabbed. "When have I lied? If I have ever told a lie, spit in my face."

A'la Dure, closer to him than Vere, spit in his face. But even as she did, she winked at the buffoon and it was impossible for him, even as he yelled and wiped her spit off, to truly be mad at her or at Vere for starting it.

"All of you are of questionable virtue," he announced, taking a gulp of his drink, then belching.

"As much fun as this is," Morgan said, picking up another empty glass and getting ready to either smash it or throw it at Fastolf's head. "I really hope this isn't how the future leader of the CasterLan Kingdom has been spending the past six years."

"How I spend my time is my business."

"You need to come back to Edsall Dark," Baldwin and Morgan said at the exact same time.

Vere shook her head. "I'll do no such thing. My father's problems aren't my problems. And that planet isn't my home. This"—she said, palms open to Eastcheap—"is my home. And these people"—she motioned at the fat man, the quiet woman, the old man, the angry reptile—"is my family."

They went back and forth like this for another minute.

Morgan reached into her pocket to show something to Vere. Withdrawing an empty hand, she looked confused, then narrowed her eyes at Fastolf. With a bark of laughter, Fastolf tossed a leather pouch back to her, continuing to giggle until she made a fist and aimed it at his nose.

Baldwin, still standing over their table after another refusal by Vere, threw his hands in the air. "This is insane," he yelled, turning to see if anyone else in the bar could talk sense to her.

But when he did, he bumped shoulders with an alien walking toward the next table. The alien looked like one of its parents was human and the other a Synthpron. The general features of a man's face still existed—two eyes, a nose, a mouth—but they were all greatly distorted in size and color from anyone gathered around Vere's table. The creature's eyes were twice as large as a man's, with one massive eyelid that slid down to cover both eyes when it blinked. Its nose was narrow from the bridge down to the tip, but at the very end, the nostrils flared out as wide as the creature's mouth. And its lips, instead of being pink or brown, were a pale blue, one shade lighter than the rest of its skin.

"I'm sorry," Baldwin said after bumping into the alien. "I—"

But the alien didn't want to hear an apology. It pointed at Baldwin and then at Fastolf and yelled in a language no one at their table understood.

A little rodent-like alien two tables over called out, "He says your heavy friend stole his wallet."

Everyone looked at Fastolf.

"I did not!" Fastolf said with indignation. "That... thing, is lying."

"I'm sorry, I—" Baldwin started to say, wanting to excuse himself from the situation, but he was the closest person to the Synthpron-man and that was why, when the half alien-half man picked an empty glass off their table, he didn't smash it across the thief's face but across Baldwin's.

Vere turned to see the physician on the ground, the Synthpron-man bending over him to continue the attack, then her hand shot out in its direction. A thin stream of black air wafted between her and the attacker. She was three feet away from him, but he stopped where he was, balancing on his toes, not wanting to move. A thin bead of blood appeared at his neck and he cried out. Still, Vere had her hand pointed at him.

The creature's blue lips strained in a grimace as he looked for what could be piercing his neck. When he tried to look down at the man whose face he had smashed, the pain intensified and he gave an embarrassing squeal.

As much as he glanced down, though, nothing was there. No claws, no blade, certainly nothing electronic since those things wouldn't function within the Treagon barrier. And yet, something was cutting his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a mirror and noticed something glimmering there.

The woman holding her hand out at him was holding a sword! But when he looked away from the mirror and back down between her hand and his neck, there was nothing there. Only then did he notice the small crossguard above her fist where a blade should have been protruding. And yet no blade was visible. Shifting his eyes back to the mirror, he saw the same crossguard, noticed part of a sword's handle below the woman's closed fist, but a blade definitely was there, extending from her hand and jutting into the soft flesh of his neck.

"How?" he tried to say, but Vere extended her hand ever so slightly, forcing the Synthpron-man as far back against the next table as he could go. "How?" he tried to say again.

Once more the brawler looked down at the space between her hand and his neck and saw nothing, then shifted his eyes to the mirror and saw a blade.

"A chameleon!" people around them cried.

"But no one has a Meursault sword except,"—the Synthpron-man cringed and closed his eyes—"except the six heirs of Coetzee the Knowing." And then the brawler, almost crying, said, "But that must mean you're"—the creature's giant eyelid closed in dismay—"Vere CasterLan, heir to"—

Vere poked the sword even further. "That's enough," she said and the Synthpron-man became quiet, afraid even to take a breath, knowing that if his neck moved at all it would be sliced open.

If there had been anyone in the bar who didn't know who she was, now they did.

Baldwin got to his feet, one hand holding onto the closest table to steady himself and the other pressing against his temple, where rivers of blood were escaping between his fingers.

"Go," Vere said, lowering her hand, and the Synthpron-man immediately gasped for air and, feeling lucky to be alive, darted for the bar's exit to tell everyone he knew that the mark on his neck had been caused by a legendary weapon.

The Meursault sword had many names. Some called it the Chameleon blade because of the way it left a vapor of light the same color as the area through which it passed. In a smoke-filled gambling hall, the sword would leave a gray streak wherever the blade had passed, a colored streak that dissipated after a few seconds. In the swamps of Dynth-5, the blade would leave yellow streaks of mist everywhere it slashed through the air. Near the pure lakes of the smallest moon of Reccreen, the blade would leave a beautiful blue trail behind. And in the darkness of Eastcheap, everyone wanting their privacy and no one wanting to be recognized for one reason or another, the blade left a black vapor.

Some called it the Hidden Death because its blade, when viewed straight-on, was invisible to whomever was trying to look at it. Not a single alien species in the galaxy had eyesight fine enough to see the microscopically thin blade. Only when the angle was shifted to its flat side did the sword become visible. Because of how thin the blade was, it could cut through objects no other blade in the galaxy could. A normal metal blade would cause sparks to fly from a stone wall. A Meursault blade slashed straight through the stone without problem.

And some called it the Emperor's Saber. Not only did you have to be royalty to own one, you had to be one of the six members of royalty in the galaxy, related to the last Holy Emperor, thereby holding a greater birthright than anyone else. There were countless dukes and lords. There were a handful of princes and princesses. There were a couple kings and queens. Not enough Meursault swords for all of them. Only six in the entire galaxy.

More than a thousand years earlier, Meursault, the most famous swordsmith in the history of the galaxy, had discovered how to make the blade. He had only had time to craft seven of the weapons before his apprentice, filled with jealous rage, murdered him. Not only did the secret of how the blade was crafted disappear with its maker, but also the material that the blade was made of. Glass, no matter how it was finished or glazed, would shatter if someone attempted to do with it the things that a Meursault blade could do. Metal wasn't strong enough. Diamonds were too thick.

Over the centuries, one of the swords had been stolen or lost. Only six still existed, passed down from one ruler to another. Some people went their entire lives thinking the blades were an old wives' tale because they never got to see one for themselves. Some people saw glimpses of the swords when a king gave a great speech. But now, here was one in Eastcheap, the dirtiest and most disreputable bar on Folliet-Bright, and it was being held by one of the grimy bar's most loyal patrons, who also happened to be a woman.

Aliens began whispering excitedly in every possible language known in the system. A different group of MaqMacs than the one that had been scared earlier were bleeping and chirping. The Gthothch had made friends with a different set of Watchneens than the ones he had crippled and was offering a grinding noise that his species was known for. Even the Feedorian bartender was partaking in the gossip, leaning in close to a Basilisk that was slightly heavier than Traskk, with brown scales instead of the creamy yellow that Vere's friend had.

"Well, it looks like it's our time to leave," Vere said, returning the gaze of every imaginable type of alien.

"Here," Fastolf said, tossing a leather wallet to Baldwin. "Your reward."

"I don't want your money," said the physician.

Fastolf only laughed. Occulus rolled his eyes. Morgan gave a disgusted gurgle. Vere didn't want to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

"What?" Baldwin said, not getting it.

It was Vere who answered, "It's not Fastolf's wallet. It belonged to the alien who smashed a drink over your head."

"You lied?" Baldwin said, but no one—certainly not Fastolf—bothered to reply.

The others followed Vere's lead, making their way toward the door. Morgan put a hand on Baldwin's back to help guide him out.

They were halfway to the bar's exit when a giant figure appeared in the doorway, almost completely blocking all light from entering through the door. As the body moved forward, into the little bit of illumination the bar offered, Vere saw it was human in shape, or at least something with two arms and two legs, only much larger, and dressed in full knight's armor.

The man, if that's what he was, was the largest person she had ever seen, not just in height but in thickness. His neck was as broad as both of her legs put together. His legs were so thick and long that he looked like he must be half human and half giant.

But an odd thing: every part of the knight's armor was green. Varying shades and varying materials, but everything from his helmet to his boots was green. His helmet, shoulder guards, and chest plate were either some sort of emerald metal or had a layer of paint that made it shine even though there was little light to make it do so. His arm and leg protection looked to be made of thick animal hide rather than iron. But this too was green, although a darker shade than the metal. The little bit of cloth lining Vere could see was the lightest shade of all, the color of unripe fruit. His boots, his gloves, the stitches between each piece of cloth—all green. Even all of the parts of the knight's axe that she could see were varying shades of green.

"I'll bet you anything that he has a green spaceship," Fastolf said, chuckling, but no one else laughed and no one took the bet.

Vere was too busy hoping she could get out of the bar before someone challenged her for her sword.

Of course, that was when the giant pointed a green finger at her and bellowed, in a thunderous and booming voice, "You!"

The Green Knight, by Zaina.A – Digital Art
11

From the General's quarters of the Athens Destroyer, all that could be observed were other destroyers and the vastness of space. As far as General Agravan could see in front of him and behind him, ships just like the one he was aboard stretched into the distance. All of them hurtling through space on their way toward Edsall Dark.

The General, like Mowbray and all other Vonnegans, was slightly taller and thinner than an average human. And like all others of his race, he had no hair anywhere on his body and little on his head. His skin glinted with a purplish complexion. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes were two different shades of gleaming purple.

"Tell me," a second Vonnegan male said from the other side of the room, "What is the reason for using a gravity mine in fixed warfare but proton mines in unconventional warfare?"

The person speaking was roughly the same height as the General, but his skin was smoother, his eyes larger. Both were indications that he was a teenage Vonnegan rather than an adult. He was also the only person on the entire ship who wasn't wearing a Vonnegan naval uniform. Instead, he wore intricately woven fabric that was such a light shade of purple it was almost gray.

General Agravan turned from the viewport and walked back to where the teenager sat at a desk. In front of them, scattered about, were diagrams of various space warfare tactics, miniaturized holograms of some of the most famous space battles of all time, any one of which, when touched, would expand to fill the room and allow General Agravan a chance to explain why one fleet had won a battle and the other had lost.

"Well, Minot," the General said, touching a pinprick of light so it expanded. In front of them, a hologram grew in size until it was the same shape as the desk the boy was at. "A gravity mine, set off in a battle where there are no formations and no traditional lines of fire, will undoubtedly have as much risk of destroying a Vonnegan ship as it would an enemy ship."

As he spoke, the three dimensional hologram came to life, showing a scattering of Athens Destroyers and Solar Carriers in a battlefield without clear sides, the ships all interspersed. As they watched, an Athens Destroyer shot a small projectile into the middle of the battlefield. A moment later, Minot's and General Agravan's faces both lit up as the hologram's representation of a gravity mine exploded. But instead of a Solar Carrier getting sucked into the explosion, the nearest Athens Destroyer was hit.

"You see," Agravan said, his hand on Minot's shoulder, "You have to adapt your weapons to the type of battle that is unfolding. Just because you have ten types of weapons doesn't mean you have to use all ten. Maybe you'll only use laser cannons in one battle. In another, maybe only proton torpedoes and ion depth charges. You let the circumstances of the battle, as well as the type of forces you are facing, determine your response."

Minot smiled at the hologram and at the next lesson he had learned.

"What's next?" he said. "I want to learn everything there is. I want to be the greatest Vonnegan leader in the galaxy's history."

"I have no doubt you will be, young one," Agravan said. "But that's enough military strategy for one day." He opened a desk drawer and withdrew an old-fashioned book made of actual paper. "Read this."

Minot looked at the title, then frowned. "This has nothing to do with war!"

"The galaxy's best rulers didn't learn just about war. They were schooled in every aspect of life. If you want to one day make the Vonnegan Empire bigger than it's ever been before, you'll need to read this and many other books just like it."

"But I"—

"But nothing. Your father learned the exact same things when he was your age. If he had only learned about battle strategy and nothing else, he wouldn't be the ruler he is today."

Minot smiled and looked out the viewport at a planet the Athens Destroyers were approaching. "And he wouldn't be about to take over the entire CasterLan Kingdom."

General Agravan smiled. "Go read, Minot. I have to return to the deck."
12

  1. "You!"

As Vere stepped closer to the Green Knight, she saw that even though the knight's helmet had a cross-shaped opening in the front where his mouth and nose and eyes should be, she couldn't actually see any part of his face because of the shadow his helmet cast in the bar's dim light. It was possible, she thought, that he might not have a face at all. There was also no indication what army, if any, he fought for. He carried no shield and his chest plate was a shiny emerald color without any coat of arms.

The entire bar had fallen silent at the sight of the armored giant. All of the aliens that had been gossiping about someone carrying a Meursault sword now began whispering about the guest who was covered from head to toe in green. And yet the knight didn't look foolish or outlandish in one color, as if he were wearing a costume—quite the opposite. Each part of his uniform had finely stitched green lining. The blacksmith who had forged the green axe hadn't left a single dull mark or imperfection. Most out of place, the knight wore a thin green chain around his neck, from which a swamp-colored gem gleamed.

"Are you the captain of this crowd?" the Green Knight said, his voice a loud and deep monotone. His finger was still pointed at Vere. When she shrugged and looked behind her to see if someone else understood the Green Knight's question, he bellowed, "Where is the captain of this crowd?"

No one offered a reply. The Green Knight took two more steps forward, looking first at the little Feedorian bartender, then at all of Eastcheap's patrons.

"I run this place, if that's what you mean," the bartender said in his Feedorian accent.

The Green Knight turned so the open slot in his helmet faced the bartender. The knight didn't speak, but the little alien still yelped and went running out the back door of his own bar. It would be talked about for a long time afterward, but there was never any agreement on why the Feedorian had darted off. Perhaps the Green Knight's terrifying face had come into the light, or perhaps there was no face at all. Whatever the reason, Eastcheap's owner ran from his bar and didn't return for the better part of a year.

The Green Knight turned back to the rest of the bar without saying anything. After scanning all of the tables and all of the various types of beings, his booming voice said, "You shall grant me a game."

No one asked the knight what he was talking about. No one moved or spoke at all. Vere looked for a way around him but the knight blocked the doorway.

The Green Knight withdrew his green axe from its guard, holding it up for everyone to see.

"I will trade one strike for another. I will accept the first blow. If anyone accepts these rules, let him take my weapon, claim it as his own, and play my game. In a seventh day, it will be my turn. Now," the Green Knight slowly turned so that one by one every alien and human alike had a chance to face him, "who will play my game?"

Astonished at what they were seeing and hearing, the entire bar was silent. A few aliens who didn't understand Basic asked their friends what the behemoth had said. When it was translated for them their eyes widened and they laughed nervously before quickly falling mute like everyone else.

"No one?" the Green Knight said. "No man here knows arrogance or valor? All of you cower and quake before me?"

The Green Knight laughed then, but because the laugh was also loud and monotone, it sounded like an avalanche rumbling down a mountain rather than a man enjoying himself.

Only one person dared speak to the Green Knight.

"A man? You've reduced your chances by nearly half."

As she said this, Vere took a step forward.

Occulus reached toward her and whispered in her ear, "Be careful, Vere. You will rue what you do today."

But she was already facing the Green Knight again. "What should I call you?"

There was a moment of stillness in the bar as if time had come to a stop. No one breathed. No one blinked.

"The Green Knight."

Fastolf burst out laughing. The entire rest of the bar, though, remained silent.

"Tell me where you're from," Vere said.

"Edsall Dark," the voice boomed. "In the Green Chapel."

"With his blue father and yellow mother, I bet!" Fastolf said, but no one paid him any attention. He stopped laughing when Morgan gave him a dirty look and raised a fist toward him.

Vere said, "I know every part of Edsall Dark. There is no Green Chapel."

"There is," the monotone voice said.

"There is not."

"There is!" the knight boomed, and for the first time, Vere looked around her and realized she was closer to the mysterious visitor than anyone else in the entire bar. She wished she could take a small step backward without anyone noticing.

"Okay, okay," she said, her palms out in front of her. "Maybe there is. But I don't know where it is. How will I find it?"

"It will find you," the Green Knight said.

Vere turned to look at her friends and rolled her eyes, but she was sure that even as she did so, A'la Dure and the others, the people who knew her better than anyone else, could tell she was regretting having spoken up.

The knight extended his hand. In it was his green axe, which he offered to Vere. She made minor movements with it to get used to its weight and balance. It was lighter than it looked, easy to guide through the air.

"In a seventh day," the knight said again.

Then, without saying anything else, the Green Knight bent his head forward slightly so part of his neck was left unprotected. Vere leaned forward to see what color his flesh was, but all she saw was the green lining under his armor.

She looked behind her. Fastolf's big eyes were proof that he was loving every minute of the show. A'la Dure and Occulus were both staring at her, pleading for her to give the axe back and have someone else play the knight's game. Traskk, uncomfortable at seeing a specimen even taller and more muscular than he was, let out a low Basilisk growl. Turning back, Vere saw the Green Knight still leaning toward her, still unconcerned that he was about to die.

Without waiting for another word, she brought the axe up over her head, then curved it at an angle so it slashed diagonally through the Green Knight's neck.

The knight's helmet, the head still inside, dropped clean off his body and landed with a loud thud between his and Vere's feet, where it rolled once end over end before coming to a stop.
13

Above the sparkling swirls of color that made up the planet of Zephyr, the Vonnegan fleet gathered. One hundred starships, each an Athens Destroyer Class-C or larger, lingered in orbit around the celestial body. Most of them rotated slowly and harmlessly around the planet like odd-shaped metal moons. Ten of the ships, though, positioned themselves over the one area of the planet that had been colonized.

Only a small fraction of the planets in the galaxy could naturally support life. A few more could have their atmospheres altered enough that they became, through artificial tinkering, habitable for humans and aliens alike. For all the other planets and moons that had cities on them, like Folliet-Bright, an artificial environment was protected by a force field. Only as much or as little of each planet that could be built within a containment field could support life and have a colony built within it. The rest of each planet remained severely lethal. If the containment field were ever disabled, the entire population would die gruesome deaths from either extreme heat or cold or from breathing in poisonous gases. It had been hundreds of years since a containment field had failed, however, due to all of the redundancies and failsafes built into them.

There was one such containment field on Zephyr, a haze of multicolored energy surrounded by otherwise nondescript moons. Inside the field was a completely different looking terrain. Instead of violent swirls of storms and noxious gases, a city of humans and aliens went about life as if they were on any other planet in the galaxy. Crops were grown. A spaceport allowed vessels in and out. But outside the field, endless lightning storms raged, fueled by air that was made up almost entirely of Propohlix, an element that carried an electrical charge. The result was an entire planet covered in beautiful white lightning, continuously and endlessly, so bright it could be seen for light-years. This covered ninety-five percent of the planet. The colony of New Zephyr covered the other five percent.

A few ships within New Zephyr saw the Vonnegan fleet massed above their planet and darted away from the colony, out into space and away from anything that might happen. The Athens Destroyers let these ships go; they weren't there to hunt down tiny freighters or personal vessels. Most of the people on New Zephyr didn't flee, however. They remained in their luxury apartments, looking up at the fleet in the sky, wondering why the foreign vessels were in CasterLan space.

Most residents there couldn't fathom that something awful might happen to them. The lightning storms were such a tourist attraction that few people could afford to live on the colony. Those who could thought they were too rich and important to be attacked or invaded. And so they watched as each of the ten ships hovering in space above the colony launched a single silver oval object, elongated and smooth, down toward the planet.

The Athens Destroyers didn't open a barrage of cannon fire, they merely let these little ovals drop down toward the containment field. They were among the last things anyone on Zephyr would ever see.
14

Vere held the Green Knight's axe in her hand. At her feet lay the Green Knight's helmet—the head, still inside. In front of her, the knight's body was still standing upright. Part of her wanted to turn and ask her friends, "What now?" Instead, she remained facing forward without saying anything at all.

Behind her, Occulus, Fastolf, and the others remained motionless and mute. All around the bar, humans and aliens that had been dividing their time between drinking and brawling all gazed at the spectacle of a vertical body without a head.

It wouldn't have been so awkward if the knight's body had collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap the way she had expected. Every other loser of a quarrel in Eastcheap immediately dropped to the ground when they were beaten. Instead, the helmet and head had clattered to the ground with a thud, and the rigid form of the Green Knight's enormous body remained standing perfectly upright. The knees didn't buckle. The torso didn't sway. He remained in the same position he had been in when Vere sent his head crashing to the floor.

Was she supposed to carry his axe out of Eastcheap as her reward for accepting the knight's challenge? Was she supposed to drop it in front of the Green Knight's feet? Should she slide it back into the harness on the knight's back? Maybe use it to poke the knight's chest so he fell backward and stopped making her uncomfortable? Even without a head, the knight remained taller than anyone else in the bar.

Fastolf inched up beside her, a drink in one hand. With his other arm, he slowly reached out until his fingers were only inches away from the Green Knight's massive chest. He was going to do what everyone else in Eastcheap was surely thinking: make the knight topple to the ground, the way a body without a head is supposed to.

When he was an inch away from touching the knight, a thick green glove jerked up and caught Fastolf's wrist.

"Argg!" Fastolf cried, snatching his hand out of the Green Knight's grip and retreating out of sight, splashing his drink everywhere as he did so. For once, aliens that were quick to fight about anything and everything ignored having a drink spilled on them because they were all too entranced by what was happening in front of Vere.

The hand lowered back to the Green Knight's side, making it unclear if the knight's muscle had seized up, causing the arm to jerk up and then lower again as the muscles relaxed, or if the knight was somehow in control of his arm even though his head lay on the ground between them. Finally, his knees bent and he leaned forward, lowering to the floor. He did not collapse in a deathly heap, however. Instead, his movement was measured and purposeful.

The bar was completely silent. No patron dared make a noise. Most, without realizing it, were holding their breath. The only sound in all of Eastcheap came from the Green Knight's armor plating as it shifted with his movement.

When the knight's hand was all the way to the ground, it curled into a fist, grabbing hold of its helmet by the thin strip of fur that made up the plume. This too, of course, was the color of fresh moss. The Green Knight, helmet in hand, straightened so he was once more towering over Vere.

"I've never seen that before!" Fastolf said from the back of the group. Unable to laugh, he gulped from a drink he had found on the table next to him. Whoever the drink belonged to didn't notice because they were too busy looking at the amazing thing that was happening near the entrance.

Without any doubt in his movement, as steady as if his head hadn't been lopped off, the knight replaced the helmet back atop his neck. Once again, there was only the darkness of shadows where the knight's eyes and nose and mouth should have been. No one, not even Vere, who was within arm's reach of him, could see if there was a face behind the helmet or if there was nothingness. The lack of blood was as disconcerting as the lack of visible flesh.

Aliens all around the bar gasped at the sight of the Green Knight in one piece again. With his helmet back atop his head, he seemed an even more imposing figure than when he had first stepped into Eastcheap.

The familiar monotone boom sounded once more as the Green Knight said, "Do not forget our agreement."

Stammering, Vere said, "But I told you, I don't know where the Green Chapel is."

"True man can but try. If you attempt to find me, you will." And then, as if anyone should want to seek out the Green Knight, even if they had given their word, he added, "In seven days, your neck will be repaid."

Without waiting for a reply, the Green Knight turned on his heel and strode out of the bar. Sparks flew from the ground where the knight's heels dug into the stone. The few aliens that were within arm's reach of the knight scurried backward as he passed by them.

Once everyone was sure the knight was gone and wasn't returning, the galactic chatter started up again at a full roar. In more than twenty different languages, patrons tried to figure out what had just happened. Every single alien and human in Eastcheap was going to tell all of their friends and family that not only had they seen a Meursault sword, they had also seen a knight's head lopped off and then witnessed that same knight reach down, pick his head and helmet off the ground, and place it back atop his neck as if it were an ordinary occurrence.

A'la Dure came up to Vere's right side and patted her friend on the shoulder, her quiet way of offering encouragement.

Occulus joined them on Vere's other side and said, "Well, I'll bet no one expected that to happen when we all woke up this morning."

"Are you okay?" Baldwin asked.

"I'm fine," Vere announced, trying as hard as she could to seem unconcerned. "I'm not the one who just had my head chopped off."

"Yet," Fastolf said with nervous laughter.

When Vere turned and furrowed her brows at him, he cast his eyes downward and sipped from another drink he had found.

"I guess now you'll be willing to go to Edsall Dark?" Morgan said. When they walked outside the bar and into the dirty alley without Vere offering a reply, Morgan added, "Well, let's get you there soon so you can clean up your father's mess before you have to get decapitated."

"It's no wonder you don't have any friends," Fastolf told her, tossing his empty glass on the ground behind him.

"It's a wonder you do," Morgan shot back.

A block down the alley from where the Eastcheap was located, a pair of tall, lanky aliens were looming over their next victim. Both were wearing long overcoats, but the little bit of their orange glimmering skin that was visible showed they were Organguans which weren't to be messed with. Some poor man had sealed his own fate when he owed them money or failed to pay a debt or deliver on some other kind of underworld agreement. Vere and the others walked toward the spaceport without bothering to find out what the man had done or what would happen to him. On Folliet-Bright, everyone was one step away from having a figure walk out of the shadows and aim a blaster at them.

They passed a winged alien, the color of a fading sunset, as it threw up in the alley after one too many drinks. On the other side of the alley, a human man was pressed against a female Diamal and all three of her tails. They passed a scaly thing, the basic shape of a human, but with almost no facial features and skin that looked like wet sand, as it leaned against a stone wall and relieved itself.

"Use a restroom," Morgan said, staring the alien down and slowing her pace until Vere pushed her forward.

"That is the bathroom," Vere said. "And anywhere else you want it to be."

A series of expressions passed over Morgan's face. When she finally understood that Vere, the supposed future of the CasterLan Kingdom, had probably done the same thing many times herself, she shook her head in dismay while Vere laughed.

"Maybe it's good you're here," Morgan said, "and not where your father's people can see you."

Instead of taking offense to the comment, Vere only laughed again and said, "You don't know the half of it."

15

The barrier surrounding and protecting the New Zephyr colony from the lightning storms and toxic atmosphere of the surrounding planet was an environmental containment field. It was not a defensive security measure. The Vonnegan fleet could have aimed their thousands of blasters and destroyed every building and every sign of civilization in the colony. They didn't have to, though.

Instead, the ten silvery modules drifted down toward the land just beyond the containment field and the normal, oxygenated air and mild weather preserved inside it. The ten projectiles made their way through the lightning-filled sky. When they landed, it was with a puff of dust. Instead of exploding, the capsules hit the ground and disappeared.

The containment fields that protected each colony usually extended at least twenty meters underground, where a protective base kept toxic elements, natural to the planet, from seeping up through the soil. By weakening the entire surface of that section of the planet, it was a matter of time until the containment field lost its integrity. As soon as even one tiny part of it broke, the entire force field would fail. Thousands—if not tens of thousands—of humans and aliens would go from living on a mild planet with regulated weather and air that everyone could breathe, to living amongst brutal lightning storms that would strike every spaceship, structure, and person within minutes. But no one would be alive that long because as soon as they took one breath of the toxic Zephyr air their lungs would shrivel up and they would die.

For a minute, however, nothing happened. General Agravan began to wonder if the projectiles they had fired were duds. Rather than ask, he was content to continue watching until something happened. Finally, it did.

The ground began to rumble and shake. The containment field flickered ever so slightly. That was the only indication the Vonnegan General needed to know that the cylinders hadn't been duds. The containment field would collapse.

Moments later, the containment field flickered once, twice, three times. Then, section by section, it crumbled to nothing. As it did, there were no crashing sounds or explosions or destruction. There was only silence.

The Vonnegan fleet continued to drift about in orbit above the planet. Never once did they activate their cannons, send space fighters down to wreak havoc, or even land a brigade of troops. Destroying the containment field would cause a complete loss of life on the colony with much less effort. The Vonnegan fleet was willing to accept a quiet victory. Rather than the glory of explosions and rampage, they were content with saving their weapons for when they would actually need them.

The entire time, all of the rich and influential citizens of Zephyr must have watched the scene from their homes, wondering what the fleet of Athens Destroyers was doing, never suspecting they were in danger until it was too late.

From within the Captain's deck of the lead Athens Destroyer, General Agravan looked out at the sight before him. The fancy skyscrapers and luxurious spaceships that few people could afford were immediately sparking with thousands of lighting strikes. Fires broke out everywhere. A few seconds later, after the fire and natural gases combined to burn up all of the oxygen and all that was left was the natural air of Zephyr, the fires all went right back out again.

Nothing. Then fire. Then nothing. It was the chaos of the universe at its finest.

But even before the fires had extinguished themselves, Zephyr's natural gravity level—also altered by the same containment field that created a livable environment—was immediately returned. Buildings that were made to withstand the standard regulated colony gravity level were quickly pulled down to the ground under the weight of sixty times stronger gravitational forces than before. Skyscrapers, hundreds of floors high, came crashing down. Starships that were hovering just above their space docks exploded onto the platforms below them.

Before General Agravan's eyes, an entire colony of buildings, ships, and most important, lives, became a giant pile of rubble with millions of lightning bolts turning the civilization into debris. The debris into ash. The ash into nothing.

16

On their way to the Folliet-Bright spaceport, Vere and her friends passed the bodies of aliens lying in the street, unable to determine if they were living or dead. They passed a man sprinting down the alley, chased by a group of three Yon-Trons that snarled and hissed as they darted after him. Each time they passed something like this, Baldwin made sure he was as close to Traskk and Vere as possible.

"I traveled aboard a frigate to get here," the physician said. "Do you mind if I go back with you?"

No one said yes, but they also didn't say no. And so he continued walking with them toward Vere's ship.

Morgan had arrived to the planet in her own ship. When she got to the space dock where she had left it, she diverted from the others without saying goodbye or anything else. Vere guessed they would see a small W-model Llyushin, the most common type of star fighter in the CasterLan Kingdom, fly out of the Folliet-Bright airspace alongside them on their way to the nearest portal.

They continued through a series of dimly lit tunnels and ramps. Where there was light enough to see, they passed by every possible type of trash. When the roar of starships wasn't deafening, they heard the growls and moans of aliens hiding in the shadows.

Eventually they came to a vast open chamber with a starship in the middle. Looking up, Baldwin saw only open air, leading out to space and to the greater galaxy.

The ship in front of them looked like two distorted, oblong discs that had been smashed together to form one vessel.

"Pretty," Baldwin said, trying to be polite to the people who were taking him across the galaxy, but sounding somewhat ill instead.

"Nice," Vere said. "A guy with a bloody nose and black eye is worried about how my ship looks."

"Where did you get this thing?" he asked, still wondering if it really had been two separate ships at one point. He had seen plenty of fighters, frigates, cruisers, and destroyers from just about every different kingdom. The ship in front of him looked nothing like anything he had seen before.

"It's a long story," Fastolf said with the same grin he had given when lying about not having stolen the alien's money, and Baldwin wondered if this ship had been part of some heist. Was the heir to the CasterLan Kingdom so disconnected from her royal heritage that she was stealing ships with the people she drank with?

"What do you call it?"

"The Griffin Fire."

On the way to the ship, Vere told Baldwin to follow Fastolf. "He'll show you where the medical supplies are. We have bio-medic suits in the back. You'll be back to normal in a few minutes."

Fastolf's face wasn't as bad as Baldwin's but it was still bleeding. Vere watched as the two men walked up the incline of the ramp and into the recesses of the Griffin Fire. A'la Dure, Traskk, and Occulus remained by her side. Atop the ship, an android walked back and forth from one open panel to another.

"How's it going, Pistol?"

Only when formally addressed did the android stop working and turn his attention to the people down below. He looked just like a human man, only without hair—not even eyebrows—and his skin was partly translucent. Vere had never been sure if Pistol's skin was supposed to appear realistic or if it was intended to look the way it did, a cross between human flesh and dyed metal.

"Hello, Vere," the android said, his lips barely moving. "Do you need the ship?"

"Yes. How long?"

"Five minutes," Pistol said, not asking permission or explaining what would take that long.

A'la Dure nudged Vere's arm and pointed at a part of the ship, causing Vere to ask, "Pistol, are the tinder walls working?"

When the android switched from looking at Vere to A'la Dure and then back to Vere, only his eyes moved.

"They are."

Vere nodded. "We're leaving as soon as you're done."

Without acknowledging her, Pistol turned and moved back to one of the open panels. It was possible for android software to mimic real emotions but Vere preferred hers to be monotone, emotionless, and apathetic. Even so, she couldn't help but suspect some part of Pistol's programming took it personally when everyone else went to Eastcheap all day while he had to stay behind and watch over the ship. It wasn't in her control anyway; his entire system would shut off as soon as he set foot inside the bar due to the Treagon barrier. She still thought, though, that he was curious about what happened there and regretted that he couldn't add a new experience to his understanding.

Aboard the ship, she passed Baldwin and Fastolf getting their injuries healed. A'la Dure and Occulus followed her into the cockpit, the old man standing behind the two pilots. Traskk was somewhere in the middle of the ship making sure it was ready for flight.

"What will you do?" Occulus asked.

Vere turned from her chair and from the vast array of buttons, switches, displays, and controls in front of her. "We're going to Edsall Dark."

"And?"

Vere hummed. She liked and respected Occulus as much as anyone in her group, and she loved that he asked questions rather than telling her what she should do, but it was times like these that she wished everyone in the world was like A'la Dure and didn't speak a single word.

With a shrug and roll of the eyes, she said, "And fulfill my destiny, I guess."

She tried to smile, but it seemed like a lot of effort, much more than turning her attention back to getting her ship off the planet and heading toward the nearest portal.

Occulus said, "A wise woman once told me that the universe conspires to cause all things. Everyone would have simpler lives if they just accepted that."

"Funny."

"Hmm?"

"My mother used to say the same thing."

Occulus smiled and tapped a finger to his head. "Great minds think alike." When Vere only nodded silently he asked, "What concerns you the most?"

She groaned and turned her attention away from the ship's displays for a moment. "What are my choices?"

"Your father's illness. The approaching war. The Green Knight's challenge."

Vere laughed, prompting Occulus to frown and look at A'la Dure to see if she knew what was so funny.

When she saw Occulus didn't understand the joke, Vere said, "Do you really think I'm going to volunteer to have my head chopped off?"

"That was the point of the challenge."

She sighed and shook her head. "And?"

"And you were the one who accepted the Green Knight's game."

"Some game," she said, shaking her head. Then, leaning across and nudging A'la Dure, she added, "He's a real joker sometimes."

A'la Dure only raised her eyebrows and continued getting the ship ready to fly.

Behind them, barely audible over the sound of ships arriving and departing, someone began to scream. Vere jumped out of her seat and raced back toward the ship's ramp. With every step, the yelling became louder and more violent.

"I'll rip your face off and kill you," a woman's voice bellowed.

At the top of the ramp, Fastolf was laughing and shrugging. "I have no idea who she is," he told Pistol.

Vere came around the corner to see Pistol and Morgan a foot apart from each other, both getting ready to attack the other.

"She was trying to get aboard the ship," Pistol said when he heard Vere behind him.

The android's job while everyone else was at Eastcheap, other than keeping the ship ready for flight, was to prevent thieves from stealing it.

Fastolf laughed again and said, "I'm telling you, I think she might be part of a criminal ring. Looks like trouble to me."

"I heard you the first time, fat man," Pistol said in a completely emotionless voice.

Even with anger seizing her entire body, causing the muscles in her arms and legs to clench, Morgan couldn't help but laugh. But when she did, the android's eye glowed as he re-assessed the possible danger in front of him.

"She's okay, Pistol," Vere said. "Let her go."

Immediately, the android's eyes stopped glowing and his defensive stance changed to standing upright with his arms by his side.

"My apologies," the android said.

"Just doing your job," Morgan called behind her as she strode past him.

As soon as she was close enough, she made a fist and punched Fastolf in the nose.

"Damn it," he cried, "I just got it fixed." Holding his face in both hands, he stumbled back aboard the ship to have the bio-medic system fix his second broken nose in one day.

"What are you doing?" Vere asked, staring at Morgan without offering any niceties.

"My ship is gone, I need to head back with you."

Vere chuckled. "Didn't you pay someone to look after it?"

"I'm not going to pay someone to watch over my own ship! Not when it's equipped with the galaxy's best security system."

"Honey," Vere said in her most condescending tone, "security measures are useless on Folliet-Bright. You need to have someone guard it. Someone you can trust." She pointed at Pistol. "Like him."

Morgan took a deep breath, doing her best to remain calm. "When I find whoever took it, they're going to wish they'd chosen a different career path."

Vere shrugged and started back inside the ship. On her way toward the cockpit she said, "Well, I hope whichever thief or vandal stole it is at least enjoying himself while he can."

Without waiting to see if Morgan would follow, she went back to join A'la Dure at the pilot's seat. When Occulus asked what was going on, she told him he didn't want to know and went back to getting the ship ready.

17

"The fleet is preparing for battle," Hotspur said. "We will be ready when the Vonnegan army arrives."

Behind him, the king, a fraction of his former weight and making little rasping breathing noises, went ignored. Holding all of their discussions in the king's chambers where they had absolute privacy, Hotspur and Modred quickly got used to treating their frail and delirious ruler as nothing more than another decoration in the exquisite chambers.

"Very good. Any report of Vere?"

Hotspur turned from the window where he was looking out at the expanse of fields below and assessed Modred for a few moments before answering.

"She's still on Folliet-Bright."

"Still drinking and thieving?"

"I would guess so."

Modred shook his head in mock disappointment. "So much potential. So much opportunity. It's a shame she's just throwing it away and forcing us to lead."

Hotspur turned back to the nearby window. Of the four sides he had to choose from he had quickly established the view from the west windows as his favorite. He hated seeing the commercial district and all the people who lived to buy and sell their wares. The windows that looked out at the perimeter wall weren't good or bad, they were devoid of anything. But the windows looking out at the plains and the forest and the mountains calmed him. He didn't like it because he liked nature; he liked it because he grew up learning of the historic battles that had taken place on those very fields.

"And what if she doesn't remain on Folliet-Bright?" Hotspur asked.

"She's been there for years. Why would she leave now?"

Hotspur looked out at a marker a thousand feet from the gate that allowed people into the kingdom. The plaque was too small to read from where he was but he knew what it said and what it commemorated. It was a memorial dedicated to the brother who had defeated his own sibling for control so many ages ago. For Hotspur, it was a testament to what it took to be a great leader. If a man had been willing to slay his own brother in combat in order to lead the kingdom, there was no one Hotspur wouldn't kill to be victorious if it meant being held in the same regard.

"I've learned, both from history and from experience," he said, "that it's best to plan for all possibilities."

Modred rolled his eyes. When Hotspur didn't offer a reply, Modred finally turned to see what his captain might say next. Only then did he realize the only other person still in the room was the king, and so he was essentially alone.

18

The Griffin Fire moved directly upward, out of the station where Vere had paid to dock her ship. For a brief moment, everyone aboard could see the seedy underworld of bars, brothels, hangouts, and gambling halls below them. A second later they were passing through the containment barrier protecting the colony from the rest of Folliet-Bright, and then they were out amongst the planet's neon clouds. Only an instant later, they were enveloped by black space. Behind them, Folliet-Bright went from being a giant sphere of land with scattered colonies arranged at various places on its surface, to being the size of a human head, and then to a pin prick of color in the black reaches of space.

Completely healed (for the second time), Fastolf sat at a table where he tried his best to teach Baldwin a card game. Every time he explained a new rule for how the game was supposed to be played he also insisted that they make the game more fun by betting on who would win. To his credit, Baldwin declined each offer, which only caused Fastolf to groan and shake his head.

Traskk did his best to help Pistol fix one of the Griffin Fire's radar systems. Every once in a while the giant reptile reappeared from within the ship's inner workings, growling and slithering his tongue in and out of his mouth, before receiving more instructions from the android and then disappearing back into the ship's mechanical room with a different set of tools.

Occulus knew Vere well enough to know that when she and A'la Dure were piloting the ship they didn't want any distractions. Fastolf had barged into the cockpit one time and had yanked on Vere's shoulder to get her attention. It hadn't mattered to her that he was in one of his drunken stupors. The next time Occulus saw the court jester, one of his eyes was swollen and purple and he was sulking in the back of the ship, taking turns between asking what he'd done wrong and hiccupping.

That left him at a side table with Morgan. For a while, as the ship flew through space, she remained silent, staring out the nearest window at the expanse of stars, probably wondering where her own ship was and daydreaming of all the ways she would hurt the crook who had stolen it. Occulus turned his thoughts to the Green Knight and what Vere would do about her father's declining health and the war the king was supposedly intent on starting before he died.

Life wasn't predictable. If it were, all of the pain could be avoided. Along with it, though, all of the joy. And yet he had known for a long time that when someone became completely calm, allowing silence to engulf them, a clearer understanding could be attained of what life might have in store. As he tried this now, slowing his breath and trying to think about nothing rather than everything, he still couldn't guess if Vere would even be alive in seven days, let alone everyone else on the ship. Not to mention everyone living on the planets ruled by Vere's father. Seven days from now, they might all be dead... including everyone aboard the Griffin Fire.

"Has she always been like this?"

Occulus blinked back into awareness of himself and his surroundings on the ship. Even though Morgan was staring out at the vastness of space, she had been talking to him about their pilot, the king's daughter.

"No," he said quietly, ensuring Baldwin and Fastolf wouldn't hear him from across the room. "She didn't used to be anything like this. You wouldn't recognize the person she was six years ago from the person she is today."

"What happened?"

He looked behind him to make sure the cockpit door was closed so Vere couldn't overhear him. The beating Fastolf had taken for bumping into her while she piloted the ship would pale in comparison to what she would do if she knew someone was sharing her secrets.

He started the only way he could, by asking a question: "Where were you six years ago?"

"In the academy," Morgan said. "I'd just gotten done with basic training and was testing to be an officer."

"Vere is almost the same age as you. But she didn't have the option of a normal life. She had one path in front of her and one path only: to take over as ruler of the kingdom when her father passed away."

"Tough life," Morgan said, rolling her eyes. "I feel so sorry for her."

Instead of acknowledging the sarcasm and defending his friend, Occulus said, "Sometimes the toughest thing isn't passing physical tests or doing better than everyone else. There are people all around you with problems you never know about. Sometimes they're minor, seemingly trivial. Sometimes they are incredible weights to bear. The things that would break another person are often so well hidden that you never even know someone is suffering."

"Let me guess, her crown weighed too much and hurt her neck. Or the royal robes they had to wear would have clashed with her eyes."

"You really dislike her," Occulus said.

"She's had everything handed to her. She had the life every kid dreams of, and she threw it away to be a thief in some dirty bar. Meanwhile, everyone else is suffering because the lunatics are running the insane asylum."

"You mean her father, the king?"

Morgan laughed. "I wish. From everything I've heard he hasn't been well enough to lead a kingdom in years." She nodded toward the cockpit and toward Vere. "Modred. Her brother—"

"Step-brother," Occulus corrected.

Morgan shook her head and sighed, and Occulus saw that she and Vere had at least one thing in common: neither had much patience for those they disagreed with.

"Whatever. Modred and Lady Percy have been running things. With Hotspur all too happy to follow their bidding if it means a chance at glory."

"I've heard that about Hotspur."

"You've heard it; I've seen it. Don't forget, I was his top lieutenant."

On the other side of the room, Fastolf laughed as he flipped his cards over. Whatever cards he had were obviously good because Baldwin frowned and pushed a coin across the table.

Occulus said, "I thought you weren't going to play for money."

Baldwin shrugged. "It was easier to give in than keep having him pester me about it."

"Don't pay that bag of trash," Morgan called out.

Fastolf taunted her by wiggling his butt in his seat.

"He's cheating," she told Baldwin. "He has a card up his sleeve. Literally."

Fastolf slid his arm back from the table but it was too late. Baldwin saw the colored tip of a card protruding from Fastolf's sleeve and groaned. Without asking for his coin back, he pushed the rest of his cards to the middle of the table and left the room. Fastolf didn't seem concerned that his opponent was gone. To the contrary, he belched and, with a grin, flicked the coin back and forth between his fingers. After he was sure Baldwin was gone, he held up a leather pouch.

"No matter," the joker said, "he'll come back when he realizes he left his money here."

Morgan growled and made a fist. "He didn't leave it. You took it."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Fastolf said, chuckling. Happy with himself, he put his feet up on the table and soon fell asleep.

"Why is the rightful heir to the kingdom hanging around with a mess like that?" Morgan asked Occulus.

"She met him as soon as she left Edsall Dark. She said that as soon as she got to Folliet-Bright there were people everywhere trying to steal her ship, steal her sword, steal her money, steal anything they could get their hands on. Pistol was the only one with her then. She probably could have handled herself. I'm sure she would have loved pulling out her Chameleon blade and daring anyone to take it from her. Fastolf saw the scum all around her and decided to try and help. He could have stolen her ship or anything aboard it, but he never did. They've been inseparable ever since. I know he's rough around the edges, but he would do anything for her."

"As long as she keeps supplying him with drinks," Morgan said, but Occulus didn't respond. A moment later she said, "The king remarried six years ago. That's why Vere left Edsall Dark, because her mother died and her father remarried? That happens to a lot of—"

"No," Occulus said, fixing his eyes on her and not blinking. It was the look a teacher gave a misbehaving student, a look that said Stop speaking if you don't know what you're talking about.

"Then what?"

"Quite frankly, I don't think it matters what the reason was. I think you have your mind made up about who Vere is and what type of person she is. Nothing I say will make a difference." Morgan started to protest but Occulus put his hand up. "If you go through life living by the first impressions you've formed of people you'll find yourself surrounded by no one you can trust and no one you like."

Fastolf, asleep, took turns between whimpering and laughing. There was no telling what kind of dream the man could be having that would elicit such a response.

Occulus nodded toward the man. "He's a thief and a cheat and a drunk. But he's a true friend to her, and he's someone she can trust. The same goes for Vere—she might join Fastolf in thieving and drinking, but if you give her a chance she'll surprise you."

Morgan shook her head, saw Occulus' eyebrows raise, then forced her lips shut until she could contain herself.

"Okay," she said. "I'll try to withhold judgment and give her the benefit of the doubt. Tell me why she left."

"You wouldn't understand."

"How do you know?"

He looked at the muscles in her neck, above her collar, as well as the way her hands never made inconsequential movements because anything other than following orders was beaten out of every cadet early on in their military training.

"Someone like you, who has spent her entire career fighting and training for war, wouldn't understand the problems of a romantic."

Instead of taking offense, Morgan smiled. "Someone like me? Who's making judgments now?"

He nodded. "Fair enough."

Morgan laughed. "A romantic? Music and flowers?"

He looked behind him to make sure the cockpit was still closed. "Not romance. A romantic. An idealist. Someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve." When Morgan shrugged, he added, "She had her heart broken. Her father wanted her to marry someone else. Her mother died and the king immediately remarried. It was too much for one person to handle all at once."

He waited for Morgan to laugh, but the woman across from him only waited for more information. Maybe having your heart broken or being disappointed by loved ones was so universal that even soldiers could understand it.

He said, "Ever since she was a little kid, her best friend was a boy named Galen. They were inseparable. Every day after their school work was done, they would sneak off into the forests or fields. Growing up, she probably spent more time with him than anyone else. When they became teenagers, instead of growing apart, the way a lot of friends tend to do, they became even closer. There wasn't anything they didn't do together or anyplace they weren't seen together. Even her own mother and father didn't see her as much as that boy."

"Let me guess: she wasn't allowed to see him at a certain age because her father was king?"

Whether it was fair or not, there was a tradition as old as the kingdoms themselves that the heir to a throne could seal an alliance by way of an arranged marriage.

"No," he said. "The boy—the young man by that time, I suppose, disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

He nodded. "Disappeared."

"Like, vanished?"

"Yes," Occulus said, and then, with a wry grin, "Like, vanished."

"Her father wouldn't have had the boy killed." It was intended to be a statement but came out sounding more like Morgan was asking a question.

"It wasn't like that. She told her father she would give up everything—the crown, the kingdom—if he could bring Galen back."

"I'm sure the king took that well," Morgan said with a laugh.

"You know what? He did. Because he knew his daughter and he knew she was telling the truth and he wanted her to be happy."

"Then what happened?"

"Nobody could find Galen. He was just... gone."

"Nobody just disappears."

"Very few people," Occulus corrected.

They both knew the one reason that people on Edsall Dark whispered about when someone did disappear. The Word. No one knew what it was or if it was real. No one knew anyone who had joined the organization—a secret society that might not even be a real thing. And yet the few times over the centuries that someone did vanish, it was always whispered that the person had chosen the Word. And that as soon as they had joined the group, they had simply vanished.

Morgan cringed when she said, "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Occulus shrugged. "It doesn't matter what I believe or don't believe. What matters is that one day Galen was there, the love of her life, and the next day he was gone. What mattered even more was that her father decided soon after that if she didn't have someone she actually wanted to marry, she might as well marry someone to unite the kingdoms."

Morgan frowned. "The man who was previously understanding suddenly wanted to marry her off?"

"It was one of the only mistakes he ever made. It wasn't because he didn't love her. He did. It's just that he was too practical sometimes and she was too idealistic. Either way, it was the worst thing he could have suggested, given the circumstances. Only a month earlier, Vere's mother had died. Then Galen disappeared. Then he immediately remarried. All at once, the life Vere had known was gone."

"So she just left?"

"She didn't just leave, she abandoned every part of her old life. Do you think it's a coincidence that she went from living on Edsall Dark to deciding to live on Folliet-Bright? Whether she realized it or not, she was trying to get as far away from her old life as possible. Even the name of the planet."

Morgan sighed. "From exploring forests and fields to drinking and stealing?"

"It's not the best life," he agreed, "but it could be worse." He looked over his shoulder at the closed cockpit door. "There's still hope for her, though."

When Morgan laughed this time, it was free of derision and was completely innocent. "She'll be missing her head in seven days, if she even lives that long."

"We'll see."

A thought occurred to Morgan then. "How do you know all of this about her?"

Before he could answer, an alarm beeped twice. Fastolf stumbled awake, wiping drool off his chin. Traskk, Baldwin, and Pistol appeared from the depths of the misshapen craft.

The cockpit door opened. A'la Dure and Vere were in their seats, their backs to everyone else until Vere swiveled to face them.

"You're going to want to see this," she said.

The group made their way into the cramped confines of the cockpit and its array of controls and panels. In front of them, out the main viewport of the Griffin Fire, was an assortment of curved windows, each one connected by slivers of metal, arranged so that the pilot and co-pilot had a nearly one hundred and eighty degree view of the space in front of them.

The ship had come up on a planet. A red mass of dust and rock. Moray, the fifth planet from the system's sun, owned three small moons and contained the largest quantity of colonies of any planet in the CasterLan Kingdom. Because of the planet's soil and atmosphere, it was fairly easy to build containment fields over vast swaths of the land. Nearly half the planet had been turned from a red hulk of dry dirt to cities teeming with grass, fields, homes, and spaceports.

But now, instead of ships landing and taking off on their way to and from every other place in the galaxy, instead of humans and aliens growing every imaginable crop, there was nothing.

A magnification of one of the colonies popped up on the glass in front of the Griffin Fire's cockpit. The containment field was gone. Red dust, previously kept at bay, was blowing across the farms and ships and everything else. All signs of life were gone. People and aliens alike were scattered about where they had been when the containment field was disrupted and the naturally inhospitable environment rapidly reclaimed its property. The population down there had been of every skin color and every species. Now, under the blowing red dust, they were uniform in their deaths. Where there was once a city full of life, now not a single thing moved. Already, the planet that had been half red and half a collection of every other imaginable color was being blanketed under crimson dust.

The image of the destroyed colony was replaced by another colony on the same planet. This one was also decimated. Image after image appeared in front of them on the Griffin Fire's cockpit display. Each one was of a colony without life. Each one showed red dirt spreading across the remnants of civilization.

"My god," Baldwin said. "The heavens are on fire."

Occulus put a hand on Vere's shoulder and asked what happened.

Above the planet, a dozen glowing lines changed shape as the Griffin Fire angled around Moray. Each line of pixelated floating dots became a square of colors. As the ship curved further around and their perspective changed again, it became apparent that all twelve squares of glowing light revealed the exact same thing. A purple bird of prey, its beak and claws dripping with blood. Once the purple war hawk came into sight, gold and red behind it to form the rest of the colored square of light, they each knew exactly what it meant.

Hotspur had left a single crest behind after destroying the Ornewllian Compact. Above the destroyed colony, there were a dozen.

"The Vonnegan fleet was here," she said. "This is only the beginning."
19

The fleet of Athens Destroyers moved slightly away from Mentieth-B. Behind the formation of one hundred ships, another planet had been erased of all signs of life. Instead of an active civilization, there was only the remains of a city that anthropologists might one day excavate.

Moray had been the first planet. Then Mentieth-B. The next target was Gleassagarion, a planet with a single colony. But the Vonnegan fleet didn't set their navigational computers to go directly there. Instead, they remained in orbit, waiting a few minutes for both of Mentieth-B's moons to come back around for another revolution. Both moons had small colonies of their own.

At least, that was, they both had colonies until the Athens Destroyers set their targets on them. After that, there would only be more death and more Vonnegan proton flags left above the moons to let everyone know they had been there.

A Colony, by Tim Barton - Digital Art
20

"We need to do something," Morgan said, looking out the Griffin Fire's cockpit viewport at the decimated planet.

"What are we supposed to do?" Vere said with derision. "You want me to track down the Vonnegan fleet in this thing and take them on myself?"

Lazy or not, thief or not, no one else in the crowded cockpit could argue with her point.

"We need to do something," Morgan said again.

No one bothered to reply this time, not even Vere. In front of them, with Zephyr's containment field destroyed, lay death and destruction the likes of which none of them had ever seen. During the course of their lives, all of them had become familiar with what happened when a ship with malfunctioning tinder walls passed through a portal or when a random asteroid collided with a vessel. Life was fragile everywhere, but most of all in space. Amongst the stars, life could be extinguished just as quickly as it appeared. But those were isolated incidents. A passenger ship carrying four people. A freighter carrying a pilot, co-pilot, and a lot of cargo.

This was something entirely different. A series of colonies, where aliens and humans of every type had come to live, work, and grow old, where they had built homes, offices, and towers—all of it was gone. Under the force of Zephyr's gravity, there wasn't a single structure that was still standing. Everyone would have died from either breathing the toxic atmosphere or being crushed under the falling buildings. The remnants of each colony were nothing more than a disorderly intergalactic cemetery.

The mere sight caused Traskk to give a low hiss.

Of the many colonies scattered around the planet, amid the thousands of structures and hundreds of thousands of life forms there, there may have been random survivors here and there. In the rubble, a child might have been able to climb into her space armor before the containment field collapsed. Amid the debris, an alien might have managed to close the door of the safe room within his dwelling. But they too would eventually die. There were too many collapsed structures to search each one for survivors. Too much wreckage to clear to save the few who might have miraculously survived the initial wave of death. Their only reward now would be waiting for the oxygen in their suit of space armor or safe room to exhaust itself. Then they too would die like everyone else.

Even if Vere did take the Griffin Fire down to the planet surface and she and everyone else aboard her ship climbed into space armor and began searching, they would never find anyone in time. Meanwhile, the Vonnegan fleet would be making its way closer and closer to Edsall Dark.

Baldwin said, "Maybe we can find the Vonnegan fleet's general and tell him this is all a misunderstanding."

"It doesn't sound like it was, though," Occulus said.

To which Fastolf added, "Unless you would take it as a misunderstanding after someone destroyed a civilian ship and killed all the innocent passengers." He laughed when he said this, as if it were hilarious and not a precursor for war.

Morgan turned and punched Fastolf in the chest as hard as she could. His face turned purple and he stumbled backward, coughing for air.

When she turned back to look out the cockpit again and saw everyone else staring at her, she said, "I felt his hand reaching into my back pocket. Dirty thief."

"Was not!" Fastolf gasped, but no one believed him.

The others sighed and returned their attention to the chaos in front of them.

"Maybe if you contact the Vonnegan general yourself," the physician tried again, looking at Vere. "Tell him you're headed to Edsall Dark to personally figure out what happened."

"I'm not getting involved in my father's business," replied Vere.

But Occulus leaned over and said to A'la Dure, "See if you can get the coordinates on their fleet."

She nodded and began tapping on one of the displays in front of her.

"I'm not getting involved in my father's business," Vere said again, louder this time so there was no excuse for anyone to ignore her.

On one of the Griffin Fire's displays, one of the colonies became magnified. The bodies of the dead were everywhere. Zephyr aliens, twice as large as humans, with exoskeletons that made them look like they were wearing armor, were mixed in with a variety of other species. All deceased.

Occulus leaned closer to Vere and whispered, "It can't hurt to try and fix this. If nothing comes of it, fine." He put a hand on her shoulder. "But look at all the life that has been lost so far, and think of all the additional lives that will be lost if you wash your hands of the matter."

She gave him a dirty look, but rather than silencing him with a cutting retort as she would Fastolf, or becoming belligerent as she would with Morgan, she sighed and asked A'la Dure if she had managed to find the fleet.

In response, a holographic display of planets and stars popped up in front of one of the cockpit windows. A mass of one hundred densely packed dots was slowly making its way from one planet to another. When Vere looked at the top corner of the display, she saw the fleet had just left the planet Moray, where even more colonies were located. She didn't hold out hope that their fates would be any different than those of the Zephyr colonists.

"Looks like their fleet is only one solar system away," Occulus said.

They could pilot the Griffin Fire through the next portal and be in front of the fleet within minutes.

"The tinder walls work?" she asked Pistol, who was standing behind everyone else, just outside the cockpit doorway.

"Yes, Vere," the android said without emotion.

"Are you sure?" Fastolf said, giving the life-like machine a friendly jab in the side with his elbow.

Without blinking, without raising his eyebrows, Pistol turned and answered in the same monotone, "I would be more concerned about the ship's engines being strong enough to get you across the solar system."

Vere chuckled. "Okay everyone, go buckle up."

Everyone except A'la Dure filed back out of the cockpit. After they were gone, Vere tapped a button on a side display, then turned forward and took hold of the flight controls. With a lurch, the ship arced right and doubled its speed.

"We'll be at the Proteus-II portal in five minutes," she said over the intercom.

The portal soon came into view, its blinding white energy like that of a miniature sun. If the portal had been near a busy spaceport it would have had dozens of ships lined up in front of it, each one waiting its turn to vanish into the portal and appear in a different solar system. Now, the only ships they saw were the charred remains of vessels that had been unlucky enough to appear in that sector as the Vonnegan fleet passed through.

She directed the Griffin Fire right at the portal, then tapped a red button above her head. A chime sounded. Sheets of metal began sliding down over the cockpit windows. But it wasn't only the windows they could see that the tinder walls would cover, it was every part of the ship that could possibly have a crevice or material that would allow the portal's energy anywhere into the main cabins.

Every kid had stumbled across pictures of what happened when tinder walls weren't used when trying to pass through portals—pictures they immediately shared with their friends or younger siblings. Vere had been six years old the first time she saw a picture of a giant cargo vessel that had tried to pass through a portal. Unbeknownst to the ship's captain, his vessel had a defective tinder wall and a faulty wire running to the tinder wall failsafe system. The picture she had seen was of the freighter's mess hall. But instead of dozens of men and aliens gathered around for supper, their were only shadows burned into the chairs and tables.

"Isn't that freaky!" Galen had said with a squeal.

Vere hadn't even understood what she was looking at until he explained that any organic matter touched by the portal's energy immediately exploded on a molecular level. All that remained were the shadows where each living thing had been.

Seeing Vere's horror, Galen had added, "My brother says that if you go to the portal where this happened you can hear the ghosts of the dead passengers howling into the void of space."

For the next month, of course, Vere had suffered through a series of nightmares featuring the horrors she had seen in those pictures. It was only when her mother heard of her daughter's nightmares and comforted Vere that the bad dreams had faded.

Her mother had smiled and tapped a playful finger on Vere's little nose. "That only happened because the ship's Captain was too lazy to get the tinder wall alarm fixed. He would have known about it being faulty if he'd just taken the ship in for service when he was supposed to. You'll be perfectly fine if you ever go through one."

It was the same memory Vere had every time she passed through a portal.

A second chime sounded, signaling the tinder walls had lowered over every part of the ship. A'la Dure tapped a button and imagery of their surrounding area popped up where the cockpit windows had been replaced by solid steel. This was to give the pilot and co-pilot a sense of the space around them when they couldn't actually see it for themselves.

No one knew what it would be like to pass through the portal if they could see it with their own eyes because no one had ever lived to witness such a thing. Some artists painted pictures of the stars stretching into white lines, followed by a flash of light. Some people said that the entire color spectrum of lights would flash, one after another, in such rapid succession that the human eye wouldn't be able to see all of the colors.

But even with the entire ship encapsulated with atomized steel, there were still some aspects of the portal shift that Vere and everyone else was aware of. There was the invisible force, almost like G-pressure, as the ship entered into the portal. Vere described it as feeling like time was grinding to a halt over the course of one very long second. Fastolf said it felt like, instead of falling down, he was falling straight back.

However one described it, it was what Vere and A'la Dure and everyone else aboard the Griffin Fire experienced as the ship passed into the Proteus-II energy field.

Then there was the lurch forward on the other side of the portal. Most often, people described this as the feeling of the ship traveling faster than the speed of light on its way to the next portal. Ships couldn't travel faster than the speed of light, however, and even if they could, vessels that passed through the portal weren't actually traveling that distance, they were disappearing at one point in space and reappearing at another.

When Vere experienced this lurch and then felt the ship go back to normal, she knew, even with the tinder walls still down, that they had disappeared from a point near the destroyed planet of Zephyr and reappeared in a neighboring solar system where the Vonnegan fleet was likely in the process of destroying another planet's colonies.

She pressed a yellow button above her head. A chime sounded, asking if she was sure she wanted to raise the tinder walls. In response, she pressed the original red button. The sheets of curved metal that had lowered at every window and viewport raised back up.

Zephyr was no longer in view. Instead, she faced two of the three moons of Acedees-TRak. Even as large spheres in front of her, the pair of cream-colored moons were too far away for her to see if the colonies were intact. She knew better than to fly closer, though. The Vonnegan fleet, visible in the distance, wouldn't have a change of conscience just because they had passed from one solar system to another.

"We're here," Vere announced over the intercom. Then, to A'la Dure, "See if you can get a signal on the fleet. I want to speak to their general as soon as you have him. And stay out of blaster range. I don't want a hundred destroyers deciding we look like target practice."

Not one second after she said it, a flash of light made her squint. Alarms began sounding. A red holographic display appeared in front of her face, showing her the threat that the Griffin Fire's computers had detected.

"Shields up!"

A'la Dure began jabbing at the console in front of her.

Another laser blast. This one hit the right edge of her ship. Vere took the navigation controls in her hands and said, "I hope everyone back there is buckled up." Without pause, she drove the controls forward as hard as she could.

The Griffin Fire took a nose dive, then immediately swerved to the right, beginning a series of evasive maneuvers. Despite Vere's piloting skills, though, there were still one hundred Athens Destroyers to avoid. Each one would have between thirty and fifty laser cannons. Avoiding all of their blasts would be impossible, no matter who was piloting, and they couldn't afford to take more hits just for the fun of it.

Another laser blast rocked the ship. She threw the controls back and then to the side. The Griffin Fire dodged a series of three laser blasts, then went into an arcing spiral.

"This is what I get for trying to help," she said.

Beside her, A'la Dure frowned as she continued to punch buttons.
21

On the other side of the CasterLan Kingdom, Hotspur and Modred stood across from each other in the king's chambers.

"The army is ready," Hotspur said, standing as far as possible from where the king lay dying.

It wasn't that he minded death. In fact, he welcomed facing it each time he went out into space in the Solar Carrier he commanded. But he didn't feel he had yet earned the honor of standing near the king. Part of him even knew that if the king were healthy, Hotspur wouldn't be there at all. And so he tried to act as if the leader of the CasterLan Kingdom weren't struggling for breath in his luxurious bed, only mere feet away from where he stood.

"Very good," Modred said, staring off into the distance of the business district side of the kingdom.

Unlike Hotspur, Modred had no problem being around the king's body. He even seemed to take joy in the company, as if he had already proven himself mightier than the leader of the kingdom simply by being healthy while the king was ill.

Hotspur waited for the king's stepson to say more, but there was only silence. He had recommended that Modred, Modred's mother, and even the unconscious king, be outfitted in protective suits of space armor. Hotspur certainly was. It was all he wore lately. He was fanatical about learning and understanding the history of the galactic kingdoms. If his appreciation of history had taught him anything it was that impending war did strange things to people. Strange things that made wearing armor at all times a smart move.

Only four hundred years earlier, Wallace the Giver had been assassinated by his own daughter in the hopes she could prevent an all-out galactic war from starting. Instead, she killed the best military leader of their time, and she and her entire family were eventually beheaded. A thousand years ago, Taggart the Tyrannous was shot in the back by his own general when they disagreed on how best to deter the Twi'Lek invasion. The general (also later beheaded) had thought it more important to protect the people than put them all in jeopardy by following his king's orders. Throughout recorded history were accounts of people who found a place in its annals solely because war had prompted them to act in a different way than they otherwise would have.

It was not only war, he knew, but the prospect of war, that would make Lady Percy and Modred the targets of would-be assassins. It was why Hotspur wore armor everywhere he went. And it was why he trusted fewer and fewer people the closer he got to battle.

Hotspur cleared his throat. He didn't want to address Modred as Lord because he didn't deserve the title. He didn't say Sir because it conveyed a level of respect that the captain didn't have for the king's stepson. And yet referring to him by his first name was too casual.

Modred turned and looked at Hotspur as if surprised he was still there.

"Yes?"

"I said the army is ready."

"Yes, I heard you."

Hotspur let out a long breath. "When will I take the fleet out to meet the Vonnegan army?"

"You won't," Modred said. "You'll meet them here."

Hotspur narrowed his eyes. The thick line of his jaw moved ever so slightly. "They are destroying everything in their path."

"Yes, they are."

"They have destroyed our colonies."

"Yes. They have. And?"

Hotspur's jaw clenched. Between the hard lines of his face and the armor he wore, he looked twice the size of Modred.

He said, "And we can prevent any more losses by meeting them."

"And give up our best defenses?" Modred laughed. "To meet them out in open space?"

The muscles in Hotspur's hands rippled with tension. He envisioned himself becoming another person in the pages of history who was immortalized for taking extreme measures prior to the onset of war. When they found Modred dead in the king's chamber it would be Hotspur's word against a corpse's. The king certainly wasn't in a state to know what was going on. More and more, Lady Percy disappeared for long stretches of time, locking herself in her room and crying. Hotspur could say the king's stepson had become maniacal. He could say Modred had lunged toward the king's body.

"It wouldn't be open space," Hotspur said. "We have the benefit of knowing our terrain better than our enemy."

"Terrain?" Modred laughed again. "Terrain? It's space, not a battlefield!"

Hotspur's shoulders crackled when he became tense. "The same principles apply. We know which moons are suitable for hiding our ships where they won't be detected. We know which asteroid belts will interfere with their systems and leave them open to ambush."

Part of Hotspur wanted to echo Modred's dumb laugh. Why was he wasting his time talking to someone about the tactics of galactic warfare when that person didn't know a Solar Carrier from his own shadow?

"I have made my decision," Modred said, turning back toward the window and dismissing one of his stepfather's greatest warriors.

"Then I suppose we'll see what Vere has to say when she arrives," Hotspur said.

Modred turned and laughed. "The king's daughter is too busy drinking and stealing to have the slightest idea what situation we are in here. We, the people who are actually here, are the ones who have to make the tough choices. Not her."

"You haven't heard?" Hotspur said. "Her ship was spotted leaving Folliet-Bright a few hours ago. She's heading this way." He turned and walked toward the doorway. Before disappearing, he added, "Odd, my sources told me you already knew."

Then he was gone.

22

Another succession of laser blasts passed by the Griffin Fire. Vere yanked hard on the control stick and the ship's nose shot up toward the closest moon, pushing Vere and A'la Dure back in their seats.

The cockpit door slid open and Traskk growled a slithery noise with his tongue.

"I don't know," Vere answered. "Maybe they don't care who we are."

Occulus, Morgan, and Baldwin appeared behind the reptile. Fastolf was probably passed out in the back of the ship and Pistol wasn't programmed to care about what was happening unless given a command.

Traskk made another raspy noise.

Vere said, "Don't ask me. Ask the Vonnegan fleet!"

Another shot of blaster fire hit the ship. More alarms began sounding.

Morgan stepped forward and pointed—arm outstretched in front of Vere's face—toward the top left of the cockpit. "It's not the Athens Destroyers."

Vere smacked her arm away. "Somebody turn off those alarms," she shouted.

Occulus went to the corner of the cockpit and pressed some buttons until the alarms went quiet.

"It's not the Vonnegan fleet," Morgan insisted.

Another two blasts sailed past the Griffin Fire, flying off into the distance of space.

"If I haven't known you for more than a day," Vere shouted, "Get out of my cockpit."

Baldwin inched back to the edge of the cockpit where Vere wouldn't notice him. Morgan, though, didn't budge.

"Over there," she said, pointing in front of Vere's face again.

Immediately after completing a series of loops and twists, Vere saw what Morgan was talking about. The Vonnegan fleet wasn't shooting at them. There were so many laser blasts coming at her that she assumed it must be them, but the Athens Destroyers were still too far away to be within targeting range. Instead, a pair of ships, each half the size of the Griffin Fire, were attacking them.

Vere asked who they were and A'la Dure punched a series of buttons. A display popped up with the holographic outlines of two ships highlighted. The ships were identical in make and model—a pair of old V-Type Dotted fighters—but were slightly different in color and weaponry based on how they had been maintained over the years.

"Bounty hunters," Vere said before pushing and pulling at the control stick, causing Occulus to stumble forward until Traskk effortlessly caught him with one hand.

"Who are they?" Baldwin asked.

Vere looked behind her just long enough to see that neither the physician nor Morgan were gone. Then another blaster shot hit their engines and she began a new series of spirals and turns.

"The heir to the CasterLan Kingdom is returning home," Morgan said between gritted teeth. "And it looks like someone isn't too happy about that."

"Doesn't matter," Vere said, punching the controls. An automated cannon popped out of the Griffin Fire's tail and began firing timed bursts of laser blasts back at the two ships. "Prepare the tinder walls."

As A'la Dure began entering a series of commands into the ship's computer, Vere turned the ship toward the nearest portal.

"You're going to run away?" Morgan said. "Get out of the chair and I'll show you how a ship should be piloted."

Vere stood from her chair and turned. But instead of giving over control of the Griffin Fire, she clenched a fist. Seeing that a fight was going to break out in the cockpit while they were being shot at, Traskk scooped Morgan up under one arm and darted out of the room, her muffled yells echoing as the cockpit door closed behind them.

The Griffin Fire was only twenty seconds from the portal. Blaster fire was shooting past every side of the ship. Another alarm began sounding.

"I'll get it," Baldwin said, leaning over to hit the same buttons Occulus had tapped to quiet the alarm that indicated their shields were almost depleted.

"Don't touch anything," Vere yelled. "Unless you don't want to be able to use that hand again."

"I was only trying to help—"

"It's not the shields," she told him. Then, to A'la Dure, she said, "What's wrong?"

A red holographic display popped up between them, showing areas of the ship glowing darker red than others.

"Pistol," Vere yelled into the ship's intercom. "Tinder walls are out. I need them fixed right now."

A monotone voice came across the speakers a moment later. "I will need a moment to determine the cause of the—"

"Now!" Vere yelled, jerking the control stick sideways, then down.

With the Griffin Fire's automated laser cannon firing, the pair of bounty hunter ships had to evade blasts of their own. But the automated cannon, operated by the ship's computer, would never be able to perform better than a good shooter.

"Traskk," Vere said into the intercom, "try to keep our friend from barging into the cockpit again by putting her in one of the turrets. It looks like we aren't going into the portal after all."

She sent the Griffin Fire into an elongated arc. By the time the ship came out of it, a light signaled on her display that her ship's manual turrets were active and ready to use against the bounty hunters.

A burst of twenty rapid-fire shots went at the Griffin Fire. No amount of piloting could evade all of them. With a thud and jolt, one of the engines went out.

"Pistol," Vere said into the intercom, "Ignore the tinder walls. I need engine number three back up."

The android did not bother to acknowledge the change in priorities but she knew he would do what was required.

She tried to minimize the amount of spins and spirals she sent the ship into because she wanted Traskk to get clean shots at the two bounty hunters. Experience had proven that there was no other pair of eyes she would rather have than those of her huge reptilian friend. Basilisks had crystal clear eyesight, superior to almost any alien in the galaxy, which made up for their almost complete lack of hearing. When Traskk listened to conversations, he was actually feeling the vibrations of voices, not hearing words in the traditional sense.

Only a moment later, one of the V-Type Dotted Fighters erupted into a ball of white and blue flame before quickly exploding into metal shards and debris.

She took the Griffin Fire into a nose dive, dropped its speed, then brought the nose back up and to the side. The other bounty hunter's ship came into view, almost directly to their left. A second later a streak of laser shot out from the Griffin Fire and hit the bounty hunter's craft. The ship wobbled to the side before exploding.

Vere turned and gave A'la Dure a smile. Moments later, Traskk and Morgan came into the cockpit. Vere reached up and patted Traskk on the shoulder.

But when he hissed a series of noises, Vere said, "She got both of them?" and the reptile nodded.

Everyone in the cockpit turned and looked at Morgan, who had her arms crossed and a smug grin plastered on her face after destroying both vessels with little effort.

"Anything you want to say?" Morgan asked.

Vere's mouth was hanging open, but she couldn't get the words out that she was looking for. A'la Dure's big eyes didn't blink. Traskk shrugged in a way that indicated he would have been able to get the bounty hunters himself, eventually, if Morgan hadn't blasted them both so quickly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Morgan added.

"If you're so happy with yourself, maybe you'd like to be the one to talk to the Vonnegan general," Vere said. When Morgan didn't say anything, Vere added, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

23

The one hundred Athens Destroyers that made up the Vonnegan fleet were in a loose formation around the sixth planet of the Targeen-TRak system. In front of them, the giant orange and blue swirling clouds of Decil-TRak covered the many colonies that lay beneath it. Almost the entire planet had been transformed to provide land and air that could sustain life. A couple of the colonies had grown so large that they had merged, creating some of the most expansive containment fields in the galaxy.

General Agravan stood at the viewport of his modified Commander-class Destroyer, surveying the extent of the damage. More life had been extinguished on this one planet than on all of the other colonies they had destroyed along the way. The lesson to be learned from the rest of the galaxy was simple: enter Vonnegan space and destroy a ship you have no right attacking and expect to endure so much death and suffering that no one else in the galaxy will ever think of doing the same thing.

"Any more communications?" Agravan asked the officer to his side.

"No, sir."

Some of the colonies below had tried to make contact with the Vonnegan fleet prior to being slaughtered. They were probably begging to be left alone, would most likely say they had nothing to do with the attack of the Ornewllian Compact. What they failed to understand was that it didn't matter if they had given the order or not or if they were complicit or not. Anyone and everyone in the CasterLan Kingdom was going to learn what kind of vengeance Mowbray Vonnegan was capable of.

That was why the pleas for mercy had gone unheeded. It wasn't that the general was afraid that he or his troops would see the crying families and decide to give up their mission. Orders were orders. No, he ignored the pleas for help because they were a waste of his time and the time of those on the planet surface who were going to die. Rather than beg for mercy that wouldn't be given, they should make peace with whichever god or gods they believed in. Or else hug their relatives and say goodbye. The planet was going to suffer the same fate if he allowed their communications through to the bridge or if he didn't.

"Sir," one of the men behind a control panel at the right front of the command deck said, "The ship that was just in the firefight is trying to contact us."

Unlike Hotspur's ship, where only the captain always wore space armor, all essential Vonnegan crew members, including everyone manning the command deck, wore their space armor at all times. Because of this, the face of the man who spoke couldn't be seen. Only his gray helmet was visible. Behind it, under the fogged diamond shaped lens, the man's facial expressions were hidden. The result was a bridge of officers who appeared to be heavily protected cyborgs. Unlike the CasterLan suits, which were varying shades of grey mixed in with matte black and blue tinted plates, the Vonnegan space armor was mostly grey and black, with purple insignias, shoulder plates, and lining. The shade of purple each officer wore on their space armor reflected how senior they were within the Vonnegan military. It was why the junior officer who announced the Griffin Fire's communication was wearing space armor with light purple scattered on it and General Agravan's was such a deep and dark shade of purple that it sometimes appeared black.

"They are probably dumb enough to ask us for help," Agravan said. "I do not want distractions. Ready a Keiser torpedo."

"Sir, the ship is approaching fast from Sector 9."

The general's neck stretched upward slightly. His massive back, muscles buried under protective plates, widened when he held his breath. Rather than continue the back and forth from across the command deck, Agravan strode across from where he had been looking out at the blue and orange swirls of a decimated Decil-TRak to where the crewman was hunched over his display panel.

The crewman was whispering now: "Sir, the person contacting us insists she is Vere CasterLan and she wants to speak with you."

The general put both of his gloved hands up to where his chin would be if it weren't hidden behind his helmet. After seeing what the Vonnegan fleet had done to every colony in its path, everyone should be looking for a way to avoid the line of Athens Destroyers. Yet this ship was intentionally trying to open communications. What better way to do that than to claim to be royalty? The problem was that his crew was supposed to be better than to fall for some outrageous claim like this. Even acknowledging it was a shame on the fleet.

"Put them on the screen," the general said. "If Vere CasterLan appears, you live." He did not have to say what would happen if this was a hoax perpetrated by pirates or by some foolhardy escapees of the planet they had just destroyed.

In front of the entire command deck, a woman's face appeared as a hologram on the primary display. Taking up nearly the entire display area, the woman's face was fifty times larger than life.

The general's head tilted slightly to one side, but he didn't say anything.

"General," the woman said. "I am Vere CasterLan. My father is—"

"Yes," General Agravan said, interrupting. He immediately recognized her from the books he had read about the CasterLan lineage. "We will get to you and your planet after we are done destroying everything else along the way."

"General, there's been a mistake. My father would never order one of his ships to destroy an innocent crew. And definitely not in your space."

"It happened, though. Did it not?"

"General, please, let me go to Edsall Dark and find out what happened. I'm sure I can clear everything up."

"Do as you wish. My ships will be making our way there, destroying all colonies as we go."

"But this is a mistake! I'm sure of it. Something else must be going on."

"That is not my problem."

"Give me one week and—"

On the display, the image of an overweight man appeared briefly behind Vere, saying, "Better make it six days. Don't forget you have to get your head lopped off in a week."

Vere took a deep breath, then the video feed went black for five seconds. When it came back on again, Vere was sitting back down in the pilot's seat of her ship and the fat man's pained cries faded in the distance.

"Give me six days," Vere said. "I promise I'll clear all of this up."

"And if you clear nothing up?" the general said.

Another voice came from behind Vere. This one, belonging to a young woman, said, "Then you can have her instead of destroying more innocent colonies."

As the video feed continued, Vere turned and looked at the woman standing in the cockpit doorway.

"Who is that?" the general asked.

"Morgan—" the woman started to say but Vere turned and told her to shut up and get out of her cockpit.

General Agravan said, "You and the woman behind you."

Vere frowned, not understanding what the general was getting at. Then, figuring it out, she smiled and nodded. "You've got a deal," she said. "She and I will both turn ourselves over to you if we can't straighten out what happened and clear the CasterLan name."

The two of them, the general of the Vonnegan fleet and the heir to the CasterLan Kingdom, stared at each other across the pixelated screens hovering at the front of both of their respective vessels.

Then Agravan spoke: "Six days." And the screen went black.

24

Vere stood with Occulus, Fastolf, Morgan, and Baldwin outside the Griffin Fire's cockpit. Only A'la Dure remained by the controls, watching the ship's displays and letting Pistol and Traskk know when any of their repairs on the third engine were successful. Once that was done, work began to ensure the tinder walls were functioning again.

"Why would a bounty hunter be coming for us?" Vere asked.

The side of Morgan's mouth curled with disdain. "Obviously, someone isn't excited about the king's daughter returning to Edsall Dark."

"Who would even know I was on my way, though? We just left."

"Did you really think you were hiding from anyone? Look how easily I found you. Look how easily Baldwin found you."

Tired of Morgan's attitude, Vere took a step toward her passenger. Occulus stepped in between the two even though there was nothing he could do at his age to keep them from ripping each others faces off.

"It was easy," Baldwin said, trying his best to keep tempers settled. "Even the Green Knight found you, whoever he is. And if we were able to, it wouldn't be hard for anyone else to find you or know when you were leaving."

"It doesn't help," Morgan said over Occulus' shoulder, "that someone pulled out one of the only Meursault swords in the entire galaxy. Everyone in all the surrounding solar systems will know about that before the day's over."

Vere narrowed her eyes at the woman on the other side of Occulus. The old man signaled with his eyes for Baldwin to say something, anything, to keep a fight from breaking out.

"So a bounty hunter tried to kill you," the physician said with a shrug. "So what."

Vere turned and looked at him. "So what?"

"It doesn't change anything. We still have to get to Edsall Dark to find out why the king ordered the attack. We still have to find a way to keep the Vonnegan fleet from destroying our planet."

Morgan added, "And we have to make sure we do it all in the next six days so you have time to get your pretty little head lopped off by the Green Knight."

Vere laughed for a moment. Baldwin joined in, but the mild chuckle didn't sound genuine, and it gave the impression he just wanted tensions to subside in the ship. Occulus and Morgan smiled as well, hoping Vere would be okay and wanting to keep everything civilized. As soon as their guards were down, Vere's tranquil pretense fell away and she lunged for Morgan.

The cockpit door slid open. A'la Dure poked her head out to see what was going on, saw a fight had broken out, rolled her eyes, and closed the door again.

Baldwin tried as best as he could to pull Vere off Morgan, but he was no match for her strength or fury. And Occulus, stuck between the two women, both of whom were nearly a third his age, could do nothing but hope he didn't get hurt. Fastolf, entirely entertained, simply sat back and laughed at the chaos, applauding each time Vere got in a good punch.

Morgan did her best to avoid a punch despite being jammed against a side panel with almost no room to move. Vere's fist glanced off the edge of her jaw. Morgan returned one of her own jabs, missing Vere and hitting Baldwin in the same nose that had been broken hours earlier.

He let go of Vere and stumbled backwards. Occulus, seeing the havoc that was spiraling out of control, cried out, "My back! My back!" Vere immediately stopped fighting and took the old man in her arms to keep him from crumpling to the ground.

"Morgan," he said, gasping for breath, "Help me get back to the medical station. Vere, see if Baldwin needs to have the ship's bio-medic system reset his nose again."

Morgan put an arm around Occulus' waist and helped him, hobbling and groaning, out of the room and toward the back of the ship.

Once they were gone, Vere's gaze dropped to her feet. "All this trouble just to get my head chopped off," she grumbled.

Baldwin wasn't sure if he should say something or leave her alone and so, still holding his bleeding nose, he said, "Not only that."

"What?"

"It's not just that. You aren't doing this just for that. You're doing it for your father and your kingdom."

Vere closed her eyes and shook her head. "For my father?" She wanted to add, "For a king who cared more about politics than his daughter's happiness? For a king who would remarry immediately after my mother died?" Instead, the only thing she said was, "For my father," and tried to laugh.

She smiled in a way that made Baldwin step backward for fear of having his already bloody nose become even more damaged. There was something about her eyes and their pure gray irises that made her look capable of anything, good or bad, when she smiled that way. When she saw his response she put a hand up.

"You're fine," she said, and he finally exhaled with relief. But then she added, "I only take on people who can offer a fair fight," and then he felt even more defeated than before. "Come on," she said, standing and reminding him which way he needed to go to get to the bio-medic unit that would repair his nose once again.

He followed a few steps behind her. At the medical scanner, as lines of pale blue light began graphing his face, he said, "Whatever your father—the king—did, your people still need you."

"They aren't my people."

"Whose are they then?"

"They aren't anyone's but their own."

"Well, tell them that when you get there."

He thought he had put her in her place, but all she said was, "Be still or the computer will think your jaw is broken too."

"That's not the way a medical computer works," he started to say, then saw her eyes narrow, saw the threat in them, and understood what she was getting at.

25

On the opposite side of the vessel, above the Griffin Fire's mechanical room, where Traskk and Pistol worked to get the ship working again, Morgan escorted Occulus into the sleeping bay.

"Can you get yourself onto the bed, or do you need help?"

He immediately went from hobbling and offering cries of pain, to standing upright and looking for a drink of water.

"I think I'll manage," he said, smiling and offering her a sly wink.

"You aren't hurt?"

"I may be old, but I'm not fragile. I needed to make sure the two of you didn't kill each other."

She thought about leaving the old man there and going and finishing the score with Vere, but now that time had passed it seemed foolish to try and get in one last punch.

"Would you like some?" Occulus said, but he was already pouring a glass of water and handing it to her without her accepting.

Morgan looked out the viewport at the vastness of space. "This is all such a mess."

"Things could be worse," Occulus said, and when Morgan opened her mouth to remind him of the impending galactic war, a kingdom with a dying king and no respectable heir, not to mention the Green Knight, he added, "She could have refused to come."

"We wouldn't have let her."

Instead of growing angry, the way Vere would have, Occulus simply laughed. "You would have forced the king's daughter to return home and put her head, quite literally, on the chopping block?"

"It's better than joining her in drinking and thieving."

"You make it sound as if you would have to do those things just because you were there. I sat with them for six years and I've never stolen a thing in my life. Nor did I ever get drunk. You do yourself a disservice when you make assumptions."

"You drink with her. I saw you."

"Yes," he said, sipping his water and chuckling. "I have a healthier liver than anyone in the galaxy."

"It isn't funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny. For the past six years I've had more servings of Yantik fruit juice than I can count. It's the same color as ale and barely has any smell. Everyone at the table assumed it was something else and that I was as drunk as the rest of them."

Morgan leaned forward, unsure if she should be getting her hopes up or if she should just be annoyed at what the elder member of the group—and maybe the only responsible one among them—was saying.

He leaned in close even though they were the only two in that part of the ship.

"If I tell you something, you can't repeat it to anyone else." When she nodded, he said, "It was no coincidence that I showed up at Eastcheap almost immediately after Vere. I knew her mother—a great woman—and I swore, when she was sick, that I would do anything I could to watch over her daughter. After Isabel died and Vere's father made the mistake of thinking a broken heart meant an indifferent heart, I knew it was a matter of time until Vere would flee. What other choice did she have?"

"So you just sat there in Eastcheap and let her waste her life away?"

Occulus shook his head and sighed. "How did you fare when you tried to tell her what to do?" he asked. He motioned toward her bruised face and then to the other side of the ship where Vere was off getting Baldwin's nose fixed once again. "She is the most strong-willed and stubborn person I have ever met, and the most bullheaded. If I had gone there and started telling her how to live her life, she would have thrown me out of the bar. So I sat by and gave gentle guidance, made suggestions when possible, gave her someone she could trust."

"Trust? Didn't she know you were there because of her mother?"

Occulus smiled. "What did I say about making assumptions? I had never met Vere before I saw her in that bar. She has no idea I knew her mother."

"So you spent six years of your life drinking fruit juice and watching over her?"

"In a way. Not just watching over her, but trying to provide the subtle kind of guidance she might be more willing to accept. It wasn't always easy. Fastolf has a big heart, but he isn't the best influence. I know it looks like Vere is a lost cause, but it could be worse. At least she's on her way to Edsall Dark." He saw the look that Morgan gave and added, "Of her own free will."

A panel slid open by their feet. A platform raised, bringing Traskk to the main deck beside them. The giant reptile hissed a comment to Occulus before stalking toward the cockpit.

"The engine is fixed," he translated for Morgan. "And the tinder walls will be operational in a moment."

The platform that brought Traskk up from the inner workings of the ship plummeted back down into the darkness of the Griffin Fire's mechanical underbelly. A moment later it rose again, this time with Pistol on it.

"The tinder walls are fixed," the android said. "I suspect we will be leaving momentarily."

He walked off without waiting for a response.

26

  1.

Inside the cockpit, Vere asked A'la Dure if everything was set and received the obligatory nod.

At the tables and seats just outside where they were piloting the ship, Baldwin had buckled up across from Morgan. He was far away from her as possible in case she had the overwhelming urge to smash his face again.

Through the ship's intercom, Vere announced that they were getting ready to pass through the Tevis-84 portal and emerge outside of Edsall Dark's orbit. They would be home in a matter of minutes.

Each of them pulled the harnesses over their chests and waited for the sense of pulling and pushing that came with transporting from one point in space to another.

They heard the tinder walls slide down over every accessible part of the ship. A series of beeps sounded, and then each of them felt as if they were in one of those spinning intergalactic carnival rides that pushed everyone back against their chairs. A moment later, the sensation changed and each of them felt as if they were being pulled toward the surface of a body of water that was in front of them instead of above them. That too only lasted a fraction of a second, the entire ordeal taking no longer than two seconds.

Without needing the ship's sensors to beep an acknowledgement, they all knew they had passed through the portal and that when the tinder walls slid up they would be able to look out the ship's windows and see Edsall Dark.

They were home.

27

"You let them go?" Minot said. "My father told you to destroy everything you passed in the CasterLan Kingdom."

General Agravan had left the deck of his Athens Destroyer to see how Mowbray's son was getting along with his studies. There was no trace of accusation in the boy's voice, only curiosity. Even so, if someone on the command deck had asked the same question, a bot would have carried their dead body away from their work station so a replacement officer could take over. The Vonnegans on his command deck were there to follow Agravan's commands, not to question them. The boy had a point, though. Agravan had not completely followed Mowbray Vonnegan's orders.

Standing over the boy at his desk, the general put a hand on Minot's shoulder. With the helmet of his space armor off, the sharp lines of Agravan's cheeks and jaw caused vast differences in how light reflected off the purplish tint of his skin, making his eyes and mouth appear ghostly at some moments and incredibly human at other times.

"That is true," Agravan said. "Your father did give me those orders. But a good ruler, as your father is, knows to give orders that can be flexible, leaving a good general, which I am, to know the proper way to administer those orders."

"When I'm ruler, I should expect my generals to interpret my orders rather than follow them exactly?"

"Not always. Sometimes, I carry out your father's orders exactly as they were given."

"And other times?"

"And other times, like now, I make decisions I know will ultimately benefit the Vonnegan Empire. I could have captured Vere's ship and sent a communication back to EndoKroy to verify what your father would have wished done with them. But a good general has a sense of what their ruler wants. I am certain that your father, if presented with the pros and cons of the situation, would have ordered me to let her go and give her time to try and clear up the confusion."

"But why?"

"It shows the Vonnegan Empire is not imprudent and rash. Yes, we have destroyed every CasterLan colony in our path, but when given the opportunity to settle the situation diplomatically, we accepted. The important thing to remember, however, is that it will all end the same way, regardless of what Vere does."

Minot looked up with his big eyes and stared at Agravan. "What do you mean?"

"We show the rest of the galaxy that we are willing to listen to reason, but we also know there is nothing Vere can do to alter our plans. No matter what information she uncovers, the Vonnegan fleet will be arriving at their door in six days. And when we do, the inevitable will happen; we will crush the CasterLan Kingdom. Your father's empire will double in size, and you, my young prince, will become the new leader on Edsall Dark. It is all as your father has planned, regardless of how we get there. That is how a good general works for his ruler."

28

Having emerged from the portal, it would only be a moment before the Griffin Fire's tinder walls were raised and Edsall Dark was in view. For each passenger, the prospect brought a longing but also trepidation.

Vere wanted to arrive so she could get the entire ordeal over with. She had left her home planet deliberately, and as soon as all of this was over with she planned to leave again. This time, forever.

Beside her, in the co-pilot's seat, A'la Dure wanted to do whatever would make her friend happy. If that meant helping Vere face old ghosts, she would tag along. She had never been to Edsall Dark, had only heard stories about its grandeur. She certainly wouldn't argue about exchanging the dirt and filth of Folliet-Bright for the majestic landscapes of Vere's home world. At the same time, though, she didn't like seeing how the trip was transforming her friend from someone who laughed and smiled all the time to someone who brooded and argued.

Outside the cockpit, Morgan wanted to begin solving the puzzle of why the king would order such an attack. While she was scared of no one, she wasn't looking forward to the confrontation with Hotspur once she got there. She had been his second in command before going behind his back to try and stop this impending war. He wouldn't forgive that, and she wouldn't back down from him. Only one result was possible.

Baldwin wanted to get back to his family and to his mentor, the king's primary doctor. Taking care of the king's health was the most important role a physician could have. Baldwin was missing out on the opportunity in order to convince a thief and a hoodlum to return home. At the same time, he wasn't convinced Vere would be effective at preventing the Vonnegan army from destroying the planet. She hadn't given him much to be hopeful about so far, that much was clear.

Like A'la Dure, Traskk had heard stories about Edsall Dark but had never been there. That was reason enough to enjoy the trip. Knowing that there were people out there who wanted Vere dead, knowing that he would get a chance to kill anyone with such intentions, was the icing on the cake. Part of his Basilisk mind couldn't help but be slightly apprehensive, though. After all, he still didn't know the extent of what they were getting into. And he didn't look forward to seeing the Green Knight again. Something about the giant warrior had unsettled him, and it had nothing to do with how unnaturally large he was.

Occulus was excited for Vere to claim her destiny. He knew she was capable of great things. He knew that up until now she had been gliding through life. Now was her time to seize her destiny. He was dreading, though, the moment when she found out who he was. It was inevitable that while they were on Edsall Dark she would find out that he had been good friends with her mother. She would realize that was why he had befriended them at Eastcheap, and then she would never trust him again. He had grown to like her every bit as much as he had liked Isabel; the prospect of earning her distrust made his chest feel heavy.

Pistol cared about getting to Edsall Dark every bit as much as Fastolf, which was to say not at all. The android didn't have a preference where Vere went or what she did. And Fastolf, drunk as ever, barely realized where they were.

Hearing the tinder walls rise, Baldwin started to say, "There's no place like—"

But before he could finish, the ship lurched sideways and a great jarring passed through the vessel's steel frame. Alarms began sounding all throughout the ship. Only five feet from where Morgan was sitting, an explosion blew out a panel of switches and lights. The ship shook again. When Occulus unbuckled his safety harness in order to look outside and see what was happening, the next blast knocked him off his feet and threw him backward. If Traskk hadn't caught him in mid-air, he would have flown across the room and been seriously hurt. A second set of alarms began sounding.

Over the ship's intercom, Vere said, "We're under attack. I repeat, we are under attack."

29

"It will be fine, mother," Modred said.

He stood with Lady Percy in the dying king's chambers. In the sky above them, the Tevis-84 portal appeared as large as a moon but only because it orbited the planet much closer than either of Edsall Dark's actual moons.

His mother cried all the time recently. He thought it was because she was scared of everything that was happening, but when he told her they would be fine it only made her sob again and rest her hand on the king's forehead, as if soothing him with a touch would make him better when nothing the doctors could do was working.

"But—"

"But nothing, mother. We have to be strong now. The people are depending on us. We're the ones who have to lead now. We're the ones who have to make the tough decisions. And so we make them."

Up in the sky, near the portal, he thought he could see flashes of lights. Maybe the beginning of a battle breaking out.

"And," he added, "we are the ones who know what is best for this planet and this kingdom."

When Lady Percy only cried some more, Modred threw his hands in the air.

30

Even before the tinder walls had slid back open, the holographic displays in front of Vere and A'la Dure told them what was happening. A ship had been waiting there, ready to attack as soon as they passed through the portal above Edsall Dark.

It was only one ship, not an entire armada, but with its weapons readied and with the Griffin Fire vulnerable, the damage had been quick and substantial. The ship's communications dish was nothing more than space debris floating off into the distance. Their primary missile bay was inoperable. Attempting to fire a proton missile would probably destroy Vere's own ship.

A'la Dure punched a button and the metal walls that protected the craft's occupants disappeared in a flash. In their place was the black of the galaxy littered with billions of faraway stars. The sight was immediately replaced by flashes of laser sailing past the Griffin Fire as Vere jerked the controls left and then right.

A display popped up in front of her, showing the surrounding space. Edsall Dark was in front of them. The portal was behind them. But in between them and the giant circle of energy was a small sphere, almost the same size as her own ship, with four curved wings, two big and two small. When she magnified the image, she saw that the ship attacking them was completely disproportionate to the Griffin Fire. While her own ship had a small cockpit and small wings—the majority of the ship devoted to its engines, living quarters, and storage—the bounty hunter's ship was almost entirely a spherical cockpit and wings without any room for anything that wasn't designed for anything but attacking other ships. To assist with this, the ship had a rotating cockpit that adjusted to remain locked on its target even while the engines and navigation adjusted to correct the ship's path and keep it following its target.

Another bounty hunter.

Vere knew what that meant: the first attack hadn't been an isolated incident. Rather than hiring a single assassin, someone had put a price out on their heads for any bounty hunter with the skills to collect on it. They were going to keep getting attacked until they made it safely into Edsall Dark's capital.

"I've never seen a ship like that," she said, and A'la Dure nodded.

All across the galaxy, it was the bounty hunters who were driving forward innovations in ship weaponry and structure because they were the professionals who always needed to be one step ahead of every other killer. Their real-world alterations constantly exceeded the leading edge ideas that scientists created designs for. Gravitational claymore mines, dark matter napalm, and cloaked proton torpedoes had all been created by bounty hunters who needed a better way to capture or kill so they could collect a reward before their competitors.

The pilot of this ship had found a way to not only move the ship's cockpit so the pilot could keep a steady visual on the target, he had also designed the engines to shift around the main body of the ship. Rather than rely on shifts in thrusters to make wide turns like every other vessel, this ship could change directions immediately. The result was a ship that was able to dart all around rather than arc into different directions the way the Griffin Fire had to. A'la Dure set the Griffin Fire's automated cannons to target the ship but none of the blasts even came close to hitting it because it was in a completely different part of space by the time the laser bursts went to where it had previously been.

Traskk burst into the cockpit.

"Get to the turret," Vere yelled. Morgan was behind the giant reptile. As much as Vere hated to give the woman any credit, she added, "And get Morgan into the underbelly turret. We need all the help we can get."

Baldwin started to ask if he could help, but Fastolf took him by the shoulder. "This is above our pay grade," he said with a laugh, escorting Baldwin to a table with a deck of cards on top of it. "This way, you can't do anything that would get your nose busted again."

Reluctantly, Baldwin sat down and followed Fastolf's lead.

Without needing to be ordered to do so, Pistol went into the mechanical room to monitor the ship's circuits. Occulus stood by a window, trying to get a glimpse of the elusive ship that was attacking them.

31

At the back of the Griffin Fire, Morgan dropped into the same turret she had been in earlier. From where she sat, she could hear Traskk growling what must have been the equivalent of Basilisk curse words as he repeatedly shot and missed the agile ship.

After her success with the previous pair of vessels, Morgan smiled and began firing blasts of her own. One after another, though, they each sailed out into the oblivion of space. The ship she was targeting was nowhere near where she was shooting by the time the laser blast got there. She tried to fire ahead of where the ship was going but it was able to change directions so quickly that it was never where she thought it might be going. Above her, she heard more growls and what she thought must be Traskk's tail slamming into the sides of the turret bay in frustration.

The Griffin Fire was hit with two more laser blasts, shaking the ship's entire frame. Morgan could smell smoke but, inside the turret, had no idea where it was coming from or if there was a fire to put out. When she shot back a succession of four laser blasts of her own, none of them came remotely close to hitting the bounty hunter's spherical ship.

Traskk roared something but she had no idea if he was yelling more obscenities or trying to say something to her.

"We need to work together," she yelled back. "We're never going to hit this guy the way we're going."

Traskk said something back to her. Without knowing how to say "okay" or "yes" in Basilisk, she could only hope he was agreeing.

The round ship changed directions once more, hurtling toward them for another attack.

"Give me a line of fire diagonally from point three to point eight," she said.

A series of blasts departed from Traskk's turret and headed toward the bounty hunter's ship, exactly as she had commanded. Without waiting for the ship to change directions in response to the shots, she started her own diagonal line of laser blasts from point ten to point four. Agile or not, the ship would only be able to avoid getting shot by going one direction. A second before the laser streaks that she and Traskk were sending out were due to cross, she wrenched the turret controls upward and shot ahead of where the ship would have to go. Only a single shot hit the rounded ship, but it was a start. Every victory had to begin somewhere.

"Nice!" she called out, and Traskk gave his own congratulatory slithering noise.

It was coming toward them again, however, and had only been hit once compared to the dozen shots the Griffin Fire had taken.

"Again!" Morgan yelled, but this time, before she and Traskk could get anywhere close to hitting the ship with their crossing blaster attacks, the bounty hunter piloting the round ship swerved away and fired a concussion torpedo at them. Rather than hitting the ship and exploding, it self-destructed just in front of the Griffin Fire, erupting into a hail of sonic bursts that shook the ship to its core. Smaller ships, vessels without as much structural reinforcement, would have been torn apart. A multitude of alarms began sounding all around Morgan.

She punched the button for the intercom and yelled, "Shut the alarms off, Traskk and I can't hear each other."

A moment later, the alarms went silent and she knew either A'la Dure or Vere had recognized how important it was to be able to coordinate an attack when they were so obviously outgunned.

Before she could spot the bounty hunter's ship, another flash struck the Griffin Fire. The turret she was at shook and rattled.

"Not good," she mumbled and went back to trying to spot the fighter. "Not good at all."

32

In the cockpit, Vere was slamming the Griffin Fire's control stick in every possible direction to keep dodging the cannon fire that was coming her way.

"We can't take many more hits," she said, but even if her co-pilot was talkative there was nothing more that needed to be said on the topic.

Twice she had been able to trick the previous pair of ships into flying by the Griffin Fire. But whereas such a maneuver would mean certain destruction for most vessels, this round and highly maneuverable craft simply adjusted, swiveled its engines, and shot the Griffin Fire at close range before once again darting off.

"If I get my hands on this guy, he won't have arms to pilot a ship ever again."

But as she said it, her own vessel took another direct hit. Although the alarms were silent now, flashes of yellow and orange warning lights still signaled that various parts of the Griffin Fire were in dire need of repair to prevent a catastrophic failure.

She thought about using the intercom to tell everyone to get into space armor but knew it was pointless. The bounty hunter wasn't going to leave them alone after destroying their ship. He would have all the time in the galaxy to fly around and shoot each person as they floated through space.

On a display to her side she saw that Morgan and Traskk had managed to hit the round ship a second time. But at the rate they were going the Griffin Fire would be hit ten more times and be a charred mass of space junk by the time they hit the bounty hunter again.

Another alarm began sounding.

"I thought you turned them off," Vere said.

A'la Dure pointed straight ahead. It was a new alarm, this one to signal that a ship or multiple ships was coming right at them.

"What took them so long?" Vere said, waiting for a fleet of her father's W-model Llyushin fighters to come roaring up from Edsall Dark and destroy the bounty hunter.

What she saw, though, was that only two ships were racing toward her, not ten or twelve. And instead of having the distinctive Llyushin frame, they looked like diamonds with six equally spaced wings.

Before Vere could say anything else, these ships, still racing straight toward the Griffin Fire, began firing a barrage of proton torpedoes.

"Evasive maneuvers," Vere shouted before grabbing the controls so hard her knuckles turned white. She immediately threw the ship into an upward spiral.

If she had been thinking clearly she would have realized how dumb her comment was; the ship had been performing evasive maneuvers ever since appearing through the portal. Nothing had changed just because two more ships had joined the battle.

"Where are the Llyushins?" she growled in a voice so furious and inhuman it would have made Traskk proud.

A proton torpedo exploded near the ship, causing one of the Griffin Fire's engines to rip apart before falling silent. A new set of alarms began to sound but Vere didn't pay them any attention.

33

In the rear of the ship, Morgan felt the explosions before she saw what had caused them. Knowing the bounty hunter she was taking aim at was still behind them, she frowned and swiveled the turret to face the other direction.

"Oh no," she said, seeing two more ships racing at them, neither of which were CasterLan vessels.

Traskk made a noise that sounded like "tssssthh" and she guessed that the Basilisk was agreeing with her sentiment.

Seeing Traskk take aim at the two new ships, Morgan continued firing at the original spherical vessel. Without Traskk's help, though, she knew she had no hope of hitting it. It was a matter of time until they were blown apart. So close to home.

The pair of six-winged ships darted past her windows after making their first rush by the Griffin Fire. But as soon as they got past their target, they saw the spherical ship that was also attacking the Griffin Fire and it too saw them. The original bounty hunter, not wanting to relinquish his prize, began unloading laser fire and concussion bombs at the pair of multi-winged diamonds. They returned fire in the form of laser blasts and proton missiles.

The space all around the Griffin Fire broke into a cacophony of lights, explosions, and tremors as the bounty hunters fought each other for the right to kill Vere.

"We're going down," Vere's voice said through the intercom. "I repeat, we're going down."

Morgan jumped out of the turret and climbed back up to the main level. Traskk was still in his turret, still firing away, not realizing his foot-long tongue was darting and jabbing in every direction as he got more and more frustrated with the situation.

Racing to the cockpit, she heard Vere say, "Why isn't anyone responding?"

Occulus was there, but wasn't saying anything. Every time Baldwin tried to stand up from the table where Fastolf was collecting the cards that had flown across the room, the buffoon grabbed the physician's arm and told him to stay seated.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked.

For once, Vere didn't tell her to get out of the cockpit.

"I've been calling down to Edsall Dark. No one is responding. No one is sending help."

"Your comms are out."

"We have a backup system that should be working. No one is replying, though."

Morgan saw on a cockpit display that one of the three engines was out and one side of the ship's guidance controls was completely destroyed.

In front of them, the planet that most of them called home was getting larger and larger. Its blue oceans, its neverending forests, not only came into sight, but became big enough that they filled the entire cockpit windows.

Behind them, one of the bounty hunter ships tried to take more shots at the Griffin Fire, but every time it did, the other bounty hunters began attacking it, forcing it to defend itself.

"Can we make it back to CamaLon?" Morgan said, seeing Edsall Dark's capital off in the distance.

The entire planet—the entire solar system—was part of the CasterLan Kingdom, but Vere knew what she meant. They needed to make it back to the city with Edsall Dark's main space port, the king's chambers, and all of their allies, if they wanted to be assured that no more bounty hunters would come after them.

"Maybe," Vere said, pulling on the ship's controls, sounding like she didn't believe her own answer.

She tried to point the ship at the mammoth crown that sat atop the king's chamber's. There was no higher point on the planet than the royal palace and the set of hulking gold cylinders, each larger than the Griffin Fire, that circled the enormous structure. It wasn't designed to actually be a crown, but everyone who grew up there thought of it as one, and the name had stuck.

"Maybe," Vere mumbled again.

But right then, another laser blast hit the rear of the ship. Already having lost most of its controls, this last shot knocked out what little thrust and directional capability the Griffin Fire had.

"No!" Vere yelled, wrenching the controls in every direction without any result. After seeing how useless her actions were, she punched the navigational column until her knuckles bled.

Baldwin, finally able to free himself from Fastolf, ran into to the cockpit to see what was happening.

"Pistol," Vere said into the intercom. "Stabilize yourself. We're going down." The android didn't reply. "Traskk, get out of the turret and get buckled in."

The roar of frustration that the reptile gave on the opposite side of the ship was so loud that everyone in the cockpit could hear it over the alarms and their own heavy breathing.

Occulus, Baldwin, and Morgan didn't need to be told to buckle up. Each of them retreated from the cockpit and pulled harnesses over themselves.

Only Vere and A'la Dure remained in the cockpit, watching as the Griffin Fire raced toward the planet.

"No," Vere said weakly.

Beside her, A'la Dure shrugged and watched the ground race up toward them.

As Vere watched, her ship curved slightly away from the massive crown that welcomed visitors to their planet. Instead of crash landing at the spaceport or anywhere near it, she watched helplessly as the Griffin Fire raced off toward the forests and the mountains and then, even further beyond.

"No," she said again. "No."

Without looking at the controls, she knew that every second the ship raced away from their intended target was another day's worth of walking back toward her father's home. She also knew that if no ships had come to save her from the bounty hunters, they weren't very likely to come pick her up and escort her back home after they crashed.

Just like that, her ship racing across the planet without any hope of steering it back toward the intended destination, any hope vanished of getting back to see her father within six days.

Now, nothing would stop the Vonnegan fleet from invading Edsall Dark and destroying it as they had all the other CasterLan planets and colonies along their path. Nothing would stop the needless war and suffering that was going to ensue. All hope was lost.

And then the Griffin Fire crashed into the planet and everything went dark.

34

A trickle of water. Barely any light.

In the shadows, a collection of boulders, each larger than the last, each covered with moss.

Other than the sound of water dripping, there was no noise. No movement.

The relative silence was broken by the Green Knight, almost invisible in the darkness, grunting an unhappy hum. His shoulders rose with irritation and impatience. His gloved hands gripped his axe until it creaked from the incredible force.

Behind the Green Knight, in the darkness, a voice said, "She is getting closer. She will be here. I know it."

35

One of the last things Vere remembered seeing were the mountains approaching. She had been trying to decide if it was better to lower the tinder walls so no one aboard the Griffin Fire would have to see their impending doom. As they barely cleared the mountaintops, that thought was replaced by the wrenching knowledge that they would never have a chance of getting back in time to see her father alive, let alone prevent a needless war.

That was when she sat back in her pilot's chair and exhaled as if it were her last breath. Next to her, A'la Dure had still been trying her best to salvage any kind of safe landing that might have been possible. After the last laser blast, though, all three engines were out. As was half of the directional equipment. The Griffin Fire was streaking toward the remote regions of Edsall Dark as little more than a glorified meteor.

In that moment, all hope lost, Vere gave in and accepted her fate. For the last six years, she had glided through life. It was appropriate in its irony that in her final moments she was also gliding to her ultimate destiny—dying on the very planet she had run from. She reached over and put a hand on A'la Dure's forearm. Her friend turned from the controls she was furiously entering commands into, saw there was nothing either of them could do, and smiled. If they were going to die, at least they would die the same way they had lived: as a group of friends just trying to be happy.

With the alarms quieted, there was near silence as the ship sailed across the sky, getting lower and closer to the planet's surface. In a quick blur, they passed over a river. After a while, they could make out individual trees. They saw a herd of brackenn galloping away from the fiery object streaking down toward them.

She smiled as the beasts ran with their young, off toward the hills and to the simple life they lived. Then the ship slammed against the planet and her head was thrown against a metal panel diagonally in front of her.

Then, only blackness.

She dreamed of the Green Knight, her father, and Galen. Rather than have three separate dreams, all three people appeared at the same time. The lot of them stood in the king's throne room together. She was standing next to her father, looking out the window at the fields stretching far out into the kingdom. Outside, the Vonnegan army had descended from the sky and was marching across the open field, toward her and all the buildings and homes her father was supposed to keep safe.

"You have to do something," she said, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

Behind her, in the shadows, the Green Knight honed the blade of his axe to make sure it was as sharp as possible. Each time the knight did this, a metallic ripping noise echoed through the chambers, giving Vere chills.

"Tell him he has to do something," she said to Galen, but he was also on the other side of the room, peering out the windows that overlooked Edsall Dark's commercial center and the space docks.

The Green Knight's axe scraped against the metal file. GRRRRKKKKKK.

"We have to do something," she said again, but her father gave a pitiful smile while Galen refused to acknowledge she was there.

GRRRRKKKKKK.

"There's still time," she begged. "There doesn't have to be a war. We can stop this."

Her father turned away from the window and from the army approaching in the distance. When he faced her, he seemed confused.

"Do something?" he said in a croaking whisper. "They wouldn't be attacking if you had married Mowbray's son."

GRRRRKKKKKK.

"Father, don't—"

"Or at least if you had been here earlier," Galen said, turning toward her as well, "you could have straightened this all out. Now everyone is going to die."

"Galen, I—"

GRRRRKKKKKK.

"It's time," the Green Knight said, stepping toward her with his axe.

"No!" she yelled, putting her arms out as the Green Knight strode toward her.

That was when she woke to find Occulus and Baldwin standing over her. Still half in a dream state, thinking one of the figures in front of her might be the Green Knight, she smacked away their hands until her eyes focused and she saw who they were.

Next to her, Morgan and Traskk were unbuckling A'la Dure from her seat and carrying her out of the cockpit where they could put her flat on her back.

"Is she okay?" Vere managed to say.

"She'll be fine," Occulus said, lifting her eyelid and peering at her pupil. "For a crash landing, we got away pretty well. I think the two of you got the worst of it."

Vere tried to stand but a wave of dizziness and searing pain shot through her head.

"Relax," Baldwin said, "You took a good hit. Stay seated and I'll bring some supplies."

"The medical station," she said.

"Heavily damaged. Just like every other part of the ship. But Pistol is gathering any first aid supplies he can find and we'll get you bandaged up and walking."

"Funny way to arrive back home," Occulus said, but he wasn't smiling and didn't intend for Vere to find it amusing either.

"Maybe someone will come get us?" she said, squinting.

Occulus turned and looked out the cracked remains of the cockpit. "Doubtful. Your father's forces had every opportunity to stop those bounty hunters and didn't. If they weren't going to keep you from getting shot out of the sky, I doubt they're going to give you a ride back to the kingdom." He paused, "But..."

"But what?" she said.

"That doesn't mean they or someone else won't come here for a different reason."

Pistol walked into the cockpit with a box of supplies. After handing it to Baldwin, he took a quick look at Vere, nodded, then left again.

Baldwin stuck a needle into her forearm. "This will help with the pain," he said. He gave her a pill and some water. "For your head."

After swallowing the pill, she said, "You think they'll try to kill me?"

Occulus rubbed the white hair of his beard. "Even if they don't send someone, what's to stop all the bounty hunters in the galaxy from getting you? You're in the middle of nowhere."

"My father—" she started to say, but Occulus shook his head.

"I would guess your father is already dead or, to the people who are now running the kingdom, might as well be."

She wanted to find something in his callous remark to take offense with. Deep down, though, she knew he was telling the truth.

All she could think to say was, "Why?"

"We won't know until we get to CamaLon," Occulus said, looking out the sky through shards of broken glass and a place where the ship's steel frame, right in between her chair and A'la Dure's, had been ripped apart by stone.

She was going to tell him he would have all of the time in the world to enjoy the pretty view before realizing why he kept looking out at the sky above them. He was trying to see if any ships were coming their way.

"We'll never make it there."

"We can try," he said.

"Pistol!"

The android appeared at the cockpit doorway.

Cringing from the remnants of pain that the shot hadn't yet numbed, she asked what the chances were of getting to CamaLon in six days. The android looked at her without any indication of enthusiasm or mockery. No emotion at all. The slight clear blue tinge of his skin was accentuated in the darkness of the cockpit.

"By foot?"

"Yes."

His eyes glowed as he ran the calculations. "Less than four percent if everyone was healthy. You and A'la Dure will slow everyone down." She loved how objective he was, never pulling any punches. The android added, "As will the giant sack of lard, even though he is unhurt."

"I heard that!" Fastolf yelled from the next room over.

"If just you, Traskk, and Morgan go?" she said, putting a hand up when Occulus started to complain.

The android's eyes glowed again. "We would get there within six days with a ninety-five percent certainty."

"Your father needs you," Occulus said.

"You said yourself that my father is probably already dead."

"You gave the Green Knight your word."

"You think I care about that right now?"

"You gave your word."

She frowned at him. "So eager to see me lose my head?"

"Of course not," Occulus said. "But what else do you have besides your word?"

She could tell the painkillers Baldwin had given her were kicking in because there was no lightheadedness or dizziness when she scoffed and pushed herself out of her chair and up to her feet.

Morgan elbowed her way next to Pistol, who looked at her with what might have been mild robotic contempt or just confusion, and said, "It's a matter of time until a bounty hunter finds us sitting around like a pack of lazy shrep. We have to get out of here right now."

The group filed out of the cockpit and to the lounge, where Baldwin had A'la Dure lying on her back with her head propped up. Fastolf was standing next to a group of backpacks someone had gathered, each filled with supplies, food, and gear. He was taking whatever sweets he could find from the top of each bag when Vere came out of the cockpit.

Traskk came from the back of the ship with an armload of blasters and emergency supplies.

"You okay to walk?" Vere asked her co-pilot.

A'la Dure nodded and, with Baldwin's help, got to her feet.

"Okay, let's go."

One by one, they walked down the Griffin Fire's ramp and set foot on solid ground. It was the first time in six years she had been to her home planet.

"Think I'll ever see it again?" Vere said to Traskk, looking back at the damaged ship among the rocks and trees. After his tongue darted around his fangs to form a single Basilisk word, she said, "Yeah, I don't think so either."

36

"We have a report that Vere's ship arrived through the portal a few minutes ago," Hotspur said.

He knew Modred most likely already knew but he wanted to see the man's reaction for himself.

"Fine," Modred said, not turning from the window that overlooked ships arriving and departing from the spaceport.

Only feet away, the king lay in his bed, his eyes closed, his lungs wheezing for air. Each time the physician came by to deliver more medicine, he was taken aback by how decrepit the CasterLan king could be while still stubbornly clinging to life.

Only after looking at the king and sighing did Modred realize Hotspur was still standing in the room.

"What?"

Hotspur rubbed the cuff of one gloved hand with his other palm. "Her ship was shot down by bounty hunters."

Still looking out the window, Modred watched the engines of a large Chamel Cruiser ignite. A minute later, the ship had enough force to lift itself off the platform and begin moving toward space. Only after it had cleared Edsall Dark's atmosphere did Modred groan and ask Hotspur what he wanted.

"Should we send someone out there?" the captain asked.

"And take resources away from getting ready for the Vonnegan fleet?" The way he said it, Modred seemed to be planning a surprise party rather than a battle against an impending invasion.

"It would only take one ship."

"No."

"She is the rightful heir."

"And she's been gone for the last six years!" Modred yelled, turning from the window and walking toward Hotspur with balled fists.

But when he got in front of the leader of the CasterLan forces, he realized he was only tall enough to look at Hotspur's chest and that his fists were half the size of the man's in front of him.

"Do not do something you will regret," Hotspur said in a low voice.

After saying it, the captain looked over his shoulder, and Modred realized his captain was looking to make sure no one else was close enough to see or hear them. The king's stepson immediately took a step backward. Then another. Then, a safe distance away, he laughed nervously.

"I appreciate your concern. I really do." He moved across the room with opened hands, as if all were forgiven and he would like nothing more than to pat one of Hotspur's stone shoulders with affection. "But we don't want someone here who would rather drink and steal than provide leadership. We need actual leaders, not hooligans."

Hotspur's chest expanded as he stood there. How funny it was that he had fought all his life, both literally and figuratively, to get where he was. He had killed other men who stood in his way. He had killed men who wanted to do well for him but were ultimately too incompetent to be trusted. He had killed every enemy he had ever faced in battle. Through it all, he never stopped fighting. And now, in front of him, was someone who had just happened to be born to a woman who just happened to marry a king. This brat had no concept of looking over his shoulder to stop a knife to his back, or the importance of surrounding himself with people who knew how to kill and had no qualms about doing it. Modred knew nothing about space warfare or commanding a Solar Carrier. Once again Hotspur wondered why he hadn't yet wrapped the mighty gloves of his space armor around Modred's neck. No one would ever know. The kingdom wouldn't be any worse off than it already was.

Modred saw something in Hotspur's eyes and moved even further across the room, coming to rest next to the king's sword. No one had touched it since the king had fallen ill. Lady Percy liked having it there because if the king woke up his most prized possession would be next to him. At the angle it faced, only the handle and scabbard could be seen. The blade seemed to be invisible. Next to the Meursault blade, Modred became more confident.

"We don't need her. We'll be fine."

Rather than wasting more time, Hotspur turned and left. He had to get back to ensuring the last of the Solar Carriers would be operational and space-ready by the time the Vonnegan fleet arrived. Yet another thing Modred seemed to have no knowledge about.

37

From the outside, the Griffin Fire looked worse than anyone had imagined. There was severe structural damage. The radar system had been ripped off in the crash. The trail of torn earth, where the ship had skidded across the ground until coming to a stop, stretched as far as they could see.

"It's amazing we survived!" Fastolf said, looking all around him at the foreign world.

His excitement almost immediately deflated when he saw no one was amused by him and that there were no nearby people whose pockets he could pick.

Even worse than the wreckage was what they saw in front of them. Only mountains. They couldn't even see the top of the King's Crown because an entire range of peaks blocked their view. The Literac Mountains.

They weren't the types of mountains that families vacationed in on Sentive-IV. There were no postcard white caps, no clear triangular patterns amid the rocky cliffs to distinguish one from another. Instead, the great mass of rock and stone and dirt jutted out at random points, giving the impression of a series of spikes atop a ridge set among the clouds rather than a series of individual wonders.

They were the type of mountains everyone except the most experienced explorers wanted to avoid because once a climber entered the range, they became disoriented by the chaotic cluster of rocky formations. Only when they got to the top did they gain an awareness of their position in relation to the rest of the mountains, but as soon as they descended amid the rubble of stone they quickly became lost again.

"Through them or around them?" Vere asked.

Morgan withdrew a map from her pack. "If we can find a pass, we can save three days of hiking. It's our only hope of getting back there in time."

"If we don't find the pass," Fastolf said, "we'll be in the mountains until we starve and die."

"That will take you a long time," Pistol said.

Vere ignored the android and looked at the map Morgan was holding. "Anyone in favor of going around?"

Not even Fastolf, who had just complained about the more direct option, said anything.

"Okay then, let's go."

It only took an hour of walking to get to the foot of the mountains.

"Here," Morgan said. And then, "I think."

"That's not reassuring," Vere said as she tried to get a look at the map in Morgan's hands.

They were coming up on what looked like an enormous cavern. According to Morgan's map, however, it was actually a twisting labyrinth of tunnels that stretched through the mountains.

Morgan reached behind her and slid a hand into the back pouch of her pants. "I have a second map in my pocket. Hopefully, it will give us a better—"

Confused, she stopped walking. For a moment, her eyes were narrowed, trying to think where the map could be. Then she turned, found Fastolf, and began walking toward him.

"Give it back or I swear I'll break your nose so bad no medical computer in the entire galaxy will be able to fix it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fastolf said, popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

Morgan was still making her way toward Fastolf, her fists up at shoulder height. "I'm giving you one more chance."

"I don't have it!"

Vere shook her head in disgust. "Fastolf, give it back to her."

The jokester, all pretense of innocence gone, stopped smiling and withdrew the document from his vest. Before Morgan could get within arm's reach of him, he tossed it toward her so he could stay safely away.

"I ought to smash your face just for lying," she said, picking the back-up map off the ground.

"A ship," Pistol announced, looking up at the sky.

For a moment, Traskk was the only other one who heard it. Only when it was closer could their ears pick up the noise that the android and Basilisk had been able to hear. A vessel of some kind approaching in the distance.

"Quick, into the mountains," Morgan said, pushing them along.

Vere waited at the entrance of the stone enclosure to make sure everyone else was inside before she too entered. Surrounded by rock on all sides except for the narrow path in front of them and the wide entrance they had passed through, they turned back and watched a ship hover over the Griffin Fire.

It was obvious from the shape of the craft, a vessel that looked like a series of three O's tied together by a thin line of silver wings, that it was another bounty hunter. Either this ship had destroyed the others battling above the planet near the Tevis-84 portal or else had slipped past them to focus on the actual target.

Vere thought it was going to fire its cannons at the wrecked ship, but Traskk whispered something in her ear.

"What did he say?" Baldwin asked.

Vere translated: "The bounty hunter must be searching for signs of life. That's why he isn't destroying the Griffin Fire. His computer is scanning the surrounding area."

Seeing that there were no significant signs of life nearby, the ship increased its altitude and began making a slow, wide circle around the crash site.

"Let's go," Vere said. "It won't find us in here."

Only ten feet into the cave they were enveloped by the cold, dark corridor of rock and dirt.

Morgan said, "In school, they taught us that the entire army of Petric the Notorious became lost in here, went mad, and ate each other until there was no one left."

Baldwin groaned and looked back toward the entrance until Vere pushed him further forward.

"You must really be great at parties," Fastolf said, walking past Morgan.

As soon as he made his way by her, she checked her pockets, grabbed him by the shoulder, and whispered, "If you take one more thing of mine, you won't have hands to steal anything else."

Vere paused beside them to see what would happen next.

"You're no fun," Fastolf said, tossing something back to Morgan, which she returned to her pocket.

"And you have no honor."

"Honor?" he said, his big belly scraping the side of the stone as he turned a corner. "What is honor? Is it in your heart? Your brain? How do I know you have it?"

Before Morgan could reply, Vere moved in between them and put a hand on both of their shoulders. "Okay, you two, keep moving."

Every once in a while Traskk had a difficult time getting his enormous tail and frame through a twist in the rocks. Each time this happened, rather than trying to squeeze through, he slammed the bulk of his tail against the stone until it crumbled away and made it easier for him to pass.

After watching this happen a dozen times, Vere noticed that the Basilisk's tail was bleeding from hitting sharp edges of the rock. Even if Traskk's race was known for its healing abilities, she didn't like seeing her friend's self-destructive behavior. The next time it happened, she reached up and patted him on the shoulder and said, "It's not the rock's fault that we're here."

As if reading her mind, Occulus whispered to her, "That must have been what it was like for the people who loved you when they saw you leave for Folliet-Bright."

She spun and looked at him with narrowed eyes. He had never said something like that in all the years he had drank with her and the others in Eastcheap. Only now, as she made her way back to her father's kingdom, did he dare say such a thing.

"The people who loved me were with me at Folliet-Bright," she said through clenched teeth.

He smiled and held his open palms up to show he meant no harm. "Of course."

An hour later, though, he said, "You know, your father loved you too," and she knew he had been trying to wait long enough that she would have calmed down and be willing to hear more.

After six years of knowing her, however, he immediately knew he hadn't let enough time pass. Her twitching jaw and eyebrow confirmed this. She reached for his arm.

With her fingers wrapped around his wrist, he couldn't move. The others were walking ahead without realizing anything was going on.

"What do you want?" she said.

He smiled at her pleasantly, the way he had every time he had shared a table with her, A'la Dure, Traskk, and Fastolf. Seeing her hand still holding him in place, probably hurting him even though he wouldn't admit it, she blushed and let him go.

"I only want what's best for you."

"And what's that?" she asked bitterly.

All of her life, until she had fled to Folliet-Bright, people had disappointed her, either by telling her how to live and what to do or else by abandoning her. When all the other kids got to do whatever they wanted, Vere had to live up to the standard of being a future heir. The only time she had gotten to be herself was when she sneaked away with Galen each day. When everyone else married whomever they wanted, Galen had surely foreseen what their life would have been like and chosen a path without her rather than one with her. Even her father, the man who was supposed to watch out for her and protect her, had said she could serve her kingdom by marrying a man she had never met—after himself marrying someone Vere had never met. She couldn't blame her mother for falling ill, but she too had left Vere. One after another, the people she had loved had wanted to control her or else had left her.

"And what do you want for me?" she said again, stepping forward so they could feel each other's breath.

He smiled again, ignoring the fact that she was backing him against the stone wall and that, even if he were fifty years younger she would have beaten him in a fight.

"Vere, I only want you to be happy. I swear."

She turned then, unable to face him.

"All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy," he added.

"I was happy at Folliet-Bright."

But even as she said it, they both knew it wasn't true. She had spent six years drinking, stealing, and brawling, but no matter how much she had laughed through each off-color joke, every stolen wallet, and all the drunken fistfights, she couldn't convince anyone else, let alone herself, that she had actually been delighted with her life.

"I just want you to be happy," he said again.

"And how do I do that?"

"Stop running."

"If we don't keep going, the bounty hunters will get us."

"That's not what I mean, Vere. Stop running."

The way he said it, she knew instantly what he meant, and it had nothing to do with any assassins outside the caves.

She turned and, raising her voice, said into his face, "I almost got killed getting here. I'm heading toward my father's kingdom, not away from it. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm on the one planet in the galaxy where a giant green guy wants to chop my head off."

He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

"Say it," she commanded.

As softly as he could, he added, "Just because you're doing those things doesn't mean you aren't running away."

"What kind of nonsense is that? What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not?"

She immediately regretted the question and wished her friend wouldn't answer.

"You have to make peace with your father. You have to find the Green Knight and accept his challenge."

"He's going to kill me."

"It's the challenge you accepted."

He didn't say it, but she knew what he was thinking. She had run away from Edsall Dark when Galen chose a calling over love. At the same point in her life, her father had been unforgivably practical and temporarily forgot what it was like to be genuinely in love. To top it all off, her father had soon—too soon—remarried after her mother had died. Through all of it, Vere had fled rather than confront the things that weighed her down. Just because she was here again didn't mean she was ready or willing to be the person who could stand up and face those heartaches.

Before she could say anything, Occulus patted her on the arm and said, "Come on, they're getting ahead of us."

It took them a couple minutes to catch up and rejoin the rest of the group. By the time they did, it had become so dark in the system of caves and tunnels that Pistol had activated the illumination setting on his skin. Now, instead of having a slight tint to his skin, he glowed a bright white, lighting the way everywhere he went.

Hour after hour they walked through varying widths and depths of stone tunnels and hollows, always leading roughly toward the kingdom that couldn't be seen. When they stopped, they paused only long enough to refill their canteens. Fastolf, knowing there was no other alternative but walking, became gloomy and quiet.

After the third time they refilled their water, Vere whispered, "So getting my head chopped off will prove I'm not a coward? I have to die to prove to you I'm not running away?"

Occulus looked pained. "It's not about being a coward. And it's not about dying. It's about being the person you know you can be. It's about not being satisfied with anything less than you can be."

Vere rolled her eyes and said, "Because I'm the heir to—"

"No," he said. "Not because your father is a king. You have the same mission as everyone else in this galaxy. Not because you're a future ruler, because you're a person. You can't be yourself until you stop running away."

She wanted to yell at him that she had already said she wasn't running away. He was already walking past her, though, into the darkness. Without protest, she followed along at the end of the line.

After they had been walking for twelve hours, they sat down and Vere told everyone to rest for a little bit.

"Get whatever sleep you can. We have a lot more walking to do."

Traskk set about making a fire.

"Keep it small," Morgan told him. "There's not much airflow for the smoke to ventilate. We don't all want to die of smoke inhalation on the way there." And then, to Vere, "Should we take shifts?"

"I will keep watch," Pistol said. His skin had gone back to its natural tint and the cave was thrown into darkness. Only the small fire Traskk had made provided any light. A small band of yellow light glowed around each of Pistol's irises and Morgan knew he would be able to detect sounds and movement before anyone else.

Occulus picked a spot of ground next to Morgan and unrolled a blanket.

"What will she do?" Morgan asked.

They looked over at Vere, who was in the middle of taking a drink of something Fastolf had carried with him, the two of them laughing and swearing.

"She'll do what's right," he said.

As they watched, Vere took a gulp from Fastolf's flask, then handed it back to him.

Morgan frowned. "Your confidence in her seems a little misplaced."

As he closed his eyes, right before sleep came, he wondered if what Morgan had said was right. Did he have faith in Vere only because he liked her? Was he was blind to the type of person she really was? Or had he seen glimpses of the person she could be and knew that deep down, that person was not only still there, but was waiting for a chance to show her strength?

Then, sleep.

38

"I can't believe we're going to wait here for six days," the Vonnegan lieutenant said.

Over his shoulder, on the other side of the command deck and too far away to hear, General Agravan was staring out the window of the Modified Commander Class Athens Destroyer he was leading the fleet from. For hours at a time, the general stood at the window with Mowbray's son, looking out at the other ninety-nine ships at his disposal and at the expanse of space all around them. In front of them, the portal that would lead them to Edsall Dark glowed with energy. All the while, he quietly taught the boy lessons about leading and fighting and understanding your enemy. Only the general seemed to know what he was thinking about the decision to remain on this side of the portal.

"Enjoy the time," a middle-aged colonel said to the lieutenant. "In six more days, I have a feeling we'll see a battle like we've never seen before."

"Are we destroying the planet or taking control of it?"

Everyone on the ship had been asking the same question. It was easy to lay waste to colonies on various planets and moons, but Edsall Dark was the home of the entire CasterLan Kingdom. The king was there. His throne was there. No one knew if Mowbray had told General Agravan to accept their surrender, or if he would order the fleet's cannons to begin firing indiscriminately. He had received his orders directly from the leader of the Vonnegan Empire. Only the two of them knew what was in store for Edsall Dark and the rest of the CasterLan Kingdom. Everyone else would have to wait to find out.

39

"Vere."

Pistol was crouched above her when she opened her eyes.

"There is a ship above us," the android said without any urgency or alarm.

"Just one?"

Pistol nodded.

"Is it a CasterLan ship?"

"Doubtful. It's running on a pair of Type III LACE ion engines. There are no registered ships in your father's fleet with that configuration."

She gave a soft whistle, which echoed through the system of caves. Traskk immediately stirred awake and, using the muscles in his tail, silently pushed himself into a standing position.

"Get the others awake," she said. "We need to move out."

As the android followed through with the command he had been given, Vere put dirt on top of the embers remaining from the campfire that had kept them warm for the few hours of rest they had managed.

One by one, Occulus, Fastolf, and the others wiped sleep away from their eyes and groaned as they got to their feet. It would take an hour of walking just to loosen up their legs and to be able to take a step without limping. It turned out that the worst thing you could do to prepare yourself for an extremely long hike was sit in a bar for years on end.

Traskk walked up to her and hissed a series of noises.

"Whoever it is," she said, referring to what she guessed was another bounty hunter, "is probably worried that if he shoots where he can't see, he'll just block us in and make it harder to kill us."

Looking up, even though all he could see was stone, Baldwin said, "Why doesn't he just drop in from above or sneak up behind us?"

Morgan wiped dust and grime off her pants. "I hope you're a better physician than you are a bounty hunter. Whatever is up there would break its legs trying to scale down the rock face fast enough to get us before we got it. And it would be an even easier target than we are if it tried to follow us into the rock tunnels."

Vere shook her head and sighed. "Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly personable?"

For once, Morgan ignored her.

"So what do we do then?" Baldwin asked, as if Morgan were the one leading them through the mountains.

"Keep going."

"And let it attack us as soon as we get out of this maze of rocks?"

"We have to actually get through the mountains first. If we don't do that, we'll never get back to CamaLon in time. What other option do we have? If we head in another direction, the bounty hunter's systems will still eventually find us. If we wait in here and play a game of patience, there won't be a CasterLan Kingdom when we do finally get out."

"Let's go," Vere said—her way of agreeing with Morgan without saying as much.

The day before, they had walked in silence for the majority of the time. Now, though, every time someone stepped over a large rock, they grunted in pain as their tired muscles complained with every exaggerated movement. Instead of ignoring their hunger and thirst as they had previously, they commented on it incessantly. Fastolf withdrew a flask he had kept hidden and passed it over to Vere after taking a gulp himself. She took a sip, handed it back to him, and kept walking.

"You really think now is a good time for that?" Morgan said.

Vere turned and, with her mouth closed and her cheeks sucking inward, stared at the newcomer to their group. "I'm still going to get there the same time I otherwise would. It's just that I won't be so grumpy about it."

Fastolf nodded in agreement, then said, "Don't worry about her, Vere. If she had any friends they would've told her to stop being such a worry-wart a long time ago."

"I have plenty of friends."

"Sure you do," Fastolf taunted.

"I have more friends than you," Morgan said. "You have these people," she motioned in front of and behind them, "and that's just because you keep them too drunk to realize how annoying you are."

"And you have..." Fastolf said, looking behind a rock and under a stone, then shrugging. "I can't seem to find anyone who likes you."

"Remember what I did to your face the last time you annoyed me," Morgan said.

"Wait." Fastolf withdrew a leather pouch from his pocket. "Let's see if you have any pictures of your supposed friends."

Seeing him with her wallet, she lunged toward him, her hand darting for his neck. Vere was between them, though, and blocked the attack. Morgan turned her attention to Vere, assessing whether or not she would have to go through the supposed future of the CasterLan Kingdom and whether that made any difference to her. Traskk stepped beside all of them and gave a soft growl.

"Give her back her stuff," Vere said to Fastolf, continuing forward through the caves. Behind her, she heard Morgan catch the small leather bag after Fastolf tossed it to her.

Above them, they ignored the bounty hunter's vessel as it passed by them again, then faded away.

Moments later, Morgan appeared beside Vere, verifying her money and belongings were all still there. She asked if Vere had given any thought to the Green Knight.

"Don't start with me."

"Not that," Morgan said, referring to Vere's obligation to have her head chopped off. "Have you thought about who or what it was that could have its head fall on a bar room floor and then pick it back up as if it didn't matter?"

"No, can't say I have."

"You agreed to enter a contest where you would get your head lopped off and you never stopped to wonder if the Green Knight was an alien, a shapeshifter, or something else?"

"Why would I? I figured I'd chop its head off and it would be a pretty short contest. I was living in the moment."

Morgan laughed. "And you haven't bothered to think about it since then?"

They passed under a stone archway where the path widened to twenty feet before once again narrowing until they had to walk in a single file line.

"I've been kind of preoccupied by other events. If you haven't noticed, there have been a bunch of bounty hunters after us."

Morgan was still chuckling. "I mean, damn, the guy reached down and picked his own head off the ground. That's not someone I'd want to mess with."

"Why does it matter?" Vere said.

"Call me old fashioned but I'd want to know who was going to kill me."

"If you're going to die, why does it matter what kills you?"

Morgan looked confused. "Because there's no honor in that."

This time, it was Vere's turn to laugh.

"Well, it couldn't have been an android," Morgan said, "considering we were in a bar where electronics don't work."

As much as she didn't want to join in the guessing game, Vere said, "It couldn't have been a man."

"Then it had to be an alien. Maybe a Frolink."

Frolinks were the same size as humans but their eyes, mouth, and brain were halfway up their bodies.

Vere shook her head. "Have you ever known a Frolink to speak Basic? They don't have the tongue for it, literally. And a voice simulator wouldn't work in the bar."

"Magic?" Baldwin said.

Everyone stopped walking and stared at him.

It was Occulus who said what everyone else was thinking: "Lord help us survive a physician who believes in magic."

"I was only trying to think outside the box," Baldwin mumbled.

Fastolf slapped his belly and said, "I have to admit, it's really fun trying to guess what might be chopping off Vere's head a couple days from now."

After saying this, he offered her the flask again. This time, though, she declined and kept walking.

They walked for another eight hours, taking a short break at three various points through the cave and tunnel system.

"We have to be getting close," Morgan said, looking at her maps.

After another hour of walking they finally saw their first glimpses of sunlight. Pistol's skin, which he had illuminated again to show them the path forward, slowly returned to its normal pigment the closer they got to the opening.

Fastolf remained tolerable and relatively mature because of the flask in his pocket. Occulus seemed to shrink within himself, as if vanishing from his physical body was a way of coping with the pain and fatigue of the journey. Twice during their walk, Vere had come up beside him and asked if he was okay and both times he had merely nodded and pushed on ahead.

"And here we are," Morgan said. "Daylight!"

But when they got around the corner, with natural light coming in everywhere, they saw it was because of an opening above them, not in front of them. They were still only part of the way through the underbelly of the mountains. Everyone groaned in unison. The claws on Traskk's feet dug into the stony ground with irritation.

Morgan pulled her map back out. "But... I could have sworn..."

Vere turned to Pistol and asked how much further it would be.

The android's eyes glowed. "Unsure. My systems are affected by the stone all around us."

"Only one thing we can do," Vere said and started walking again.

"Maybe the Green Knight was a hologram," Baldwin said.

"Wouldn't have worked inside a room with a Treagon barrier."

"And," Vere added, "his neck didn't feel like a bunch of pixels when the axe cut through it."

"Maybe it was—"

"Enough," she said. "I don't want to think about it."

For an hour, they walked in silence.

Finally, Baldwin said, "Fine, I'll be the one to ask: how much longer? We have to be lost. We've been walking forever. We're going to end up lost just like Petric the Notorious and his army."

"Who do you think we plan on eating first?" Fastolf said, grinning and patting Baldwin on his back.

All Baldwin could do in response was cringe and shiver.

"It should only be another two hours," Morgan said. "I think. Then it should open up and we'll be clear of the mountains."

Vere turned to Pistol for his take.

"Based on the scans prior to entering the tunnels and how long we've been walking, that sounds accurate."

For a split second, everyone felt good. Then the android added, "We then have to get through the Forest of Tears and the fields of Aromath the Solemn," causing everyone to groan again. Even Morgan and Vere.

As they walked, the bounty hunter's ship passed by another three times. Never, though, did it come into view due to the mountains and rock formations that blocked their view of the sky. Nor did it fire proton torpedoes into the mountains in a rash attempt to kill them.

"Maybe it was a Baltriac Shapeshifter," Morgan said after a while, and Vere knew she was talking about the Green Knight again.

"Even if it was, any part of it that I chopped off should have caused it significant pain and blood loss. The Green Knight didn't have either. He didn't seem the least bit bothered by not having a head."

"Are you going to ask it before it kills you?"

"Ask it what?"

"What it is."

Fastolf giggled at Morgan's questions. Vere only sighed and kept walking.

"We are coming up on the mouth," Pistol said, his skin once again returning to a slightly translucent cream color.

Ahead of them, they could see where the rock tunnels and paths opened up and the mountain pass ended. Just beyond that, a tiny, one-person ship was hovering ten feet off the ground. When they faced it head-on, the ship looked like an eyeball with three wings. Pistol had been right that it wasn't a vessel from anywhere in the CasterLan Kingdom.

"What do we do?" Occulus asked.

Morgan and Vere looked at each other, as if hoping for the first time that the other would have a plan and speak up. Neither of them did.

It was Baldwin who said, "Well, you said yourself that we can't turn around or wait it out."

"Even if I live another hundred years," Occulus said, "You won't make me walk back through those mountains again."

Vere cringed. Morgan sucked air in through her teeth. Traskk growled. All the while, the bounty hunter's ship hovered above the ground, waiting for them.

"So, what else is there to do?" Baldwin said.

As if to answer, Vere stood up, pulled a pair of blasters from the bag of weapons they had been carrying with them, and ran toward the bounty hunter's ship, screaming as she fired one blaster and then the other.

40

"Your men fear you," Minot said.

Back in the boy's private quarters, General Agravan was free to give whatever answer he wished with no concern whether it might hurt the morale of his officers.

"They do not fear me. They understand my expectations and they know they must fulfill those expectations. There is a difference. If you rule your soldiers with only fear, they will follow merely to survive, not because they believe you are capable of leading them. When someone follows you out of true loyalty, they will die for you because they believe it's their purpose."

"Is it their purpose?"

There was something about the way the boy asked these questions, about the true nature of all things, that put General Agravan in awe of the future of the Vonnegan Empire. The innocence. The curiosity. One day, Minot would rule more of the galaxy than any other ruler in history.

Agravan smiled. "It doesn't matter if it really is their purpose or not. What matters is that they believe it is."

"Would they follow my father the same way they follow you?"

"But of course, Minot. I am a mere extension of your father. When they follow me, they are actually following him. They know it. Your father knows it. One day, you will know it."

For as long as there had been a Vonnegan Empire, it had slowly expanded throughout the galaxy. A tiny bit here, a tiny bit there. Some Vonnegan rulers had claimed only a single planet under the command of a minor warlord. Others had taken over chains of remote planets controlled by gangsters. Monsterac the Conqueror had taken control of an entire sector from the dwindling Rork Kingdom. Only once had the Vonnegan Empire decreased in size. Nearly five hundred years earlier, the crazed tyrant, Muligia the Disastrous had been so unfit for leadership that he did everything except maintain the army. By the time his son killed him, an entire sector had defected. Only seven years later, Muligia's assassin, Moterath the Loathsome, retook the sector, enslaving everyone who had dared defect.

Each Vonnegan leader had built upon what the previous rulers had done. It was the nature of the Vonnegans. It was why their neighbors feared them more than they feared anything else in the galaxy.

The corner of Minot's mouth curled up at the side as a thought crossed his mind. He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.

"Speak," Agravan said.

"It's silly."

"I'm here to answer every question, no matter how silly you think they are."

"I take it back," the boy said.

"You can't take back a question you never asked. Out with it."

The boy looked through the viewport of the Athens Destroyer. The light of the portal poured through the window, reflecting the Vonnegan's slightly purple skin onto the pane in front of him.

"I just wonder," Minot said.

"What do you wonder?"

"I wonder if I'll ever be able to live up to what my father does here. The Vonnegan Empire is going to double in size in a few days. No matter how many planets I conquer, it won't compare to defeating the CasterLan Kingdom."

"Minot," the general said, putting a gloved hand on the boy's head. "There will be plenty of kingdoms for you to defeat. Plenty."

The boy's eyes sparkled with pride when he smiled. "What is the next lesson? I want to learn everything there is to know."

And if Agravan hadn't already been sure, he was now convinced beyond a doubt that Minot would one day become known as the Vonnegan leader who ruled over the entire galaxy.

Minot, the Future of the Vonnegan Empire,

by Zaina.A. - Digital Art
41

Traskk and Morgan looked at each other with wide eyes. Vere was still shooting one blaster and then the other as she ran toward the bounty hunter's ship. Without thinking, they darted forward and raced after her. Morgan carried an assault blaster with a laser beam eight times more powerful than either of the blasters Vere carried. She shot while she ran, but even these blasts did little damage to the bounty hunter's ship. With each leaping step he took, Traskk tore the pin out of an ion grenade and threw it so hard it could have killed someone even before it exploded just because of the force he had behind it.

Unlike the blasters, the grenades could do significant damage, and the bounty hunter's eyeball ship immediately began returning fire with a pair of small cannons mounted underneath the vessel.

The first ion grenade went just to the left of the ship, erupting against the side of a mountain and sending blue waves of energy twenty feet in every direction.

The bounty hunter took aim, and rocks exploded on either side of Vere, Morgan, and Traskk as the bounty hunter returned fire. All of them turned gray under the dust of blasted stone. But then the next of Traskk's grenades hit the ship and blew one of the cannons off. For a moment, the entire ship was engulfed in blue energy as the pilot reset the ship's systems and tried to keep it from crashing. A moment later, the grenade's energy dissipated and the ship rocketed skyward to regroup.

Even as it did, Vere and Morgan continued firing their blasters at it just because the shots offered a distraction and gave the bounty hunter something to think about.

"We could be here all day and our blasters won't do a thing," Vere said.

"At least it'll give Traskk time to take aim and hit that eyeball again."

As they coordinated their attack, Pistol walked beside Traskk, who was waiting for the ship to circle back around. The android picked up the damaged eyeball cannon that had hit the ground and carried it back to the mouth of the cave.

Attached to the ship, the cannon had looked tiny. In the arms of a full-size android, it was clearly ten times larger than Morgan's assault blaster. It was a reminder that every ship was larger than it looked and that weapons meant to destroy other ships were enormous compared to living beings. As big as the cannon in Pistol's arms seemed, it was a thousand times smaller than any cannon on a Solar Carrier or Athens Destroyer.

The bounty hunter made a quick pass but all of its shots were too hurried to be accurate, and with only one cannon it didn't fire enough blasts to be effective. Morgan and Vere both hid behind rocks until it began to pass by them, then leaned out and fired again. But while the ship was no longer posing as great a threat to them, they also had no chance of shooting it down. In fact, most of the shots that Morgan and Vere hit it with bounced off and ricocheted in random directions, some coming back at them and endangering them more than the bounty hunter. Meanwhile, the bounty hunter was smart enough to stay away from the ion grenades that Traskk was still launching.

"This is going to take forever," Morgan said.

In the open, a grenade ready to throw, Traskk roared in frustration, his tail twitching and swinging from side to side. He would have preferred to take hold of the alien craft and tear into it with his claws.

Back at the cave entrance, Pistol didn't need to be told to withdraw a battery from one of the bags they had been carrying. His safety protocol overrode any requirement that he wait to be told what to do. The battery was approximately the size of a human head and could power their camp each night—or would have if they weren't running from assassins. He also withdrew a pair of tools and went to work, blindingly fast, straightening bent metal and other small repairs. Once he was finished, he tapped a silver panel on his arm and the skin slid away to reveal a trio of small cables. He took one and plugged it into the battery beside him. He took another and plugged it into the back of the cannon. With his free arm he picked up the weapon and began walking back toward Traskk.

When he was in position, Pistol put one knee on the ground to steady himself from the kickback he knew would be coming. Without saying anything, without telling the others to watch out, he began firing the ship's loose cannon back at its pilot. A burst of red streaks flew toward the eyeball ship. Before the pilot could react, the entire ship exploded into a ball of fire. As they watched, it plummeted to the ground a quarter mile away from where Vere and the others were standing.

"Nice shot," Morgan said.

Pistol didn't acknowledge the compliment. He merely unplugged the battery from his arm, then the cannon, which he dropped on the ground where he had found it.

Fastolf came running out with a small handheld blaster. "Did I miss anything?"

"Funny," Vere said, and began walking away from the mountains and toward the Forest of Tears.

Behind her, Occulus, Baldwin, and the others picked up their bags and began walking again as well.

42

In the king's chambers, the frail, decrepit body of Artan the Good lay motionless. With each passing day, the already large bed, covered in its luxurious cloth, appeared to become even more ridiculously oversized as the king withered further away. Lady Percy stood over her husband. Modred stood by the window overlooking the main hub of Edsall Dark's commercial sector.

An invading army was approaching, their king was sick and dying, and yet the financial androids zipped back and forth on their errands, cargo ships arrived each day with fresh batches of products for the shops, and robotic equipment labored away at building new structures and refurbishing existing ones.

"It's as if everything they know and love isn't about to end," Modred said from the window.

His mother didn't say anything. She had heard the whispers that her son was refusing to leave the king's chambers. Some people said it was because he was afraid he would be assassinated, either by someone who would want to become allies with the Vonnegan fleet when they arrived or else by someone who suspected him of that very same ambition. Others said he kept himself locked away there merely because he wanted to be thought of as their next ruler. What better way to do that than by stationing himself in the king's living quarters?

Waving his hands at the robots, aliens, and people hundreds of stories below, he said, "Don't they realize the Vonnegan fleet will be here soon and everything they all know will be meaningless?"

Again, the king's wife remained silent. This time, though, her lip quivered and she put a hand on the bedpost to steady herself.

"It's a shame that it takes something like this," Modred said, gesturing behind him at the dying king and then upward at the portal that would welcome the invading army, "to make people realize they are living life with their eyes closed."

For a moment, Lady Percy looked at her son, her lips pursed, and he thought she was going to ask the same kind of sentimental questions she always asked.

Instead, she said, "They say Vere has arrived."

"Who says that?"

"I don't know. People."

Modred laughed. "Her ship crashed on the far side of the Literac Mountains. Even if the bounty hunters don't get her, she'll never make it here."

"You make that sound like a good thing."

"Would you want her here right now?" he asked, turning to look at her. "You know her reputation just as well as I do. Is she the type of leader Edsall Dark deserves? An army is at our doorstep. The people need someone who can be strong."

He stared at his mother, challenging her to say something else, but she only remained there, her eyes downcast. Satisfied, he turned once more to watch the ordinary people living their ordinary lives far below. Their absurdity never failed to bring a smile to his face, no matter how angry he got.

43

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Fastolf said, an elbow propped against the nearest boulder, "But why do they call it the Forest of Tears?"

Vere was surprised at how well her friend was getting along, or at least, at how little he was complaining as they made their way across the planet. He was unfit for this type of adventure and there was nothing in her knowledge of him that suggested he would be able to keep up with the rest of them. But somehow he managed to keep from holding everyone back.

That was one of the reasons she had taken a sip from his flask whenever he had offered it to her; to keep things friendly and keep up the illusion that they might just as easily be sitting around a table at Eastcheap. This made it less likely he would throw his hands in the air and quit. Or worse, complain so much that he brought down the morale of the entire group.

She was sure Morgan had to be just as pleasantly surprised by the oaf's endurance as she was, but the other woman would never admit it. After having her pocket picked a dozen times by Fastolf, she would never give him any compliment.

As they entered the forest, the mountains began to vanish behind a line of thick tree trunks and yellow and orange foliage. With the sun setting, the sky was the same color, giving the impression that the leaves could extend all the way up into space. In front of them, all they could see was endless forest in all directions.

Beside Fastolf, Traskk's tongue slithered in and out of his mouth as he asked the same question. They, along with A'la Dure, had never been to Edsall Dark. The others couldn't blame them for being hesitant considering the forest's name.

Baldwin answered for the group: "It's the only place in the known universe that you can find Scyphozoans."

Fastolf looked at Traskk to see if that made any sense. When he got a blank stare, he said, "I'm sorry, you'll have to speak Basic to us."

"They're jelly-like creatures that float just above the ground. About the size of humans. Lots of tentacles."

"They make you cry?" Fastolf offered, chuckling as he passed the flask back to Vere and watched her take a sip. Of course, that would make the name of the forest seem logical.

Baldwin shook his head. "No, they kill you. Their tentacles are lethal. They got the name because the main part of their body looks sort of like a tear drop. In the old days, people used to think the Scyphozoans were the spirits of people who had died while crying over loved ones. They were the physical embodiment of sorrow. Other people said the forest was haunted and it was the gelatinous floating creatures that kept the sad spirits from ever escaping the woods."

The fat man laughed. "And people believe that nonsense?"

Occulus said, "If we come upon them, you'll see for yourself how they could be mistaken for something other than the simple creatures they are. They're the most beautiful things you'll ever see, but—"

"I don't know, a tall pitcher of ale is pretty gorgeous too," Fastolf said.

"—but also the most deadly. One touch and you're dead. No one has ever touched a Scyphozoan and lived. As deadly as they are, though, they have a certain peace about them. They don't do anything but float above the ground, drifting whichever way the breeze takes them. If you leave them alone, they're harmless. If you touch one, you get a dose of the deadliest toxin in the galaxy."

Morgan said, "My father used to tell me that anyone who entered the Forest of Tears and never came back out lived for eternity as one of those glowing floaters."

Other people had heard the same thing. In fact, myths and old wives' tales about the creatures were so popular that aliens traveled from all over the galaxy to enter the Forest of Tears and see what many still believed were long-forgotten spirits. Every once in a while, someone became so overwhelmed by their beauty that they reached out to touch what they believed might be a departed loved one. When they did, they immediately fell to the ground, gasping for breath before dying.

"That's not nearly as interesting as the things your mother used to tell me," Fastolf said and laughed.

Morgan turned to the rest of the group. "Seriously, why is this guy here?"

Occulus shrugged. Baldwin, thinking the same thing, looked to Vere for an answer.

"He's not hurting anyone," Vere said, continuing to walk.

A moment later, Fastolf passed her the flask and she took another sip.

"This is ridiculous," Morgan whispered to Occulus. "She's more interested in drinking and laughing than she is in getting to the kingdom."

"Try to be patient," replied Occulus. "She's doing the best she can. She has a lot to come to terms with."

Morgan knew he was right but still didn't like his answer. She shook her head and stepped over a fallen tree.

Vere asked how much longer it would take to get through the forest. Pistol didn't need a map to calculate. A second later, his eyes glowing, he answered that it would be two more days.

"As long as we don't have any delays?" Morgan said.

The android nodded. "Correct."

She turned to Vere and Fastolf. "Then maybe you should put the flask away and focus on the job at hand."

"Worry about yourself," Vere said. "You aren't the one with an appointment to have your head chopped off."

"That was your own doing," Morgan said, but no one else said anything.

Fastolf gave her a mocking laugh and danced in place. "Maybe you wouldn't be so miserable if you had a sip."

Morgan raised her fist and told him not to forget what she did to him the last time he irritated her. He laughed again, but also made sure he stayed outside of her punching distance as they walked through the trees.

Traskk growled something but Vere was too busy drinking and laughing with Fastolf to pay attention.

"I don't know about you guys, but it looks just like every other forest I've seen," Fastolf said.

Pistol moved a fallen tree aside with one arm, barely slowing down as he did so. "Everything in this forest—the trees, the animals—is larger than you will find elsewhere in the galaxy. Fastolf should fit in perfectly here."

Everyone laughed except for Fastolf. This shut the man up. Morgan walked up beside Occulus and asked what Fastolf had done to the android to earn his resentment.

"Nothing. Vere and Fastolf got drunk one night and made a bet on who could steal more wallets in ten minutes. If Fastolf won, Vere got to reprogram Pistol to insult Fastolf's weight every chance he got."

"And if Fastolf won?"

Occulus scratched his head. "I don't know. I don't think Vere ever thought that far ahead. She just assumed she would win the bet."

"Just like she thought she would win the Green Knight's game?"

Occulus cringed.

"I should have guessed."

Traskk said something else, but Vere was trailing behind the others, giving Fastolf a friendly push as he tried to climb over a fallen tree. It was obvious that he should have walked around it but after seeing everyone else climb over with no problem his pride got the better of him and he tried to heave himself up and over it.

"She'll never amount to anything as long as she associates with people like that," Morgan said to Occulus.

All around them, leaves fell from above, matted the forest floor, or blew across their paths as they made their way forward. As they walked, the sun went further and further below the horizon. As the light faded, the leaves turned from vibrant shades of yellow and orange into dark shades that at first resembled rotten fruit filled with shadows and pockets of darkness.

Pistol was right about the size of everything in the forest. The trees were twice the size of similar trees found on other planets.

Vere looked up to appreciate the sight of the forest she had loved so much as a child, then noticed a sparkle of light high up in a tree they were approaching. Everything else around them was leaf, wood, or sky. The tiny pin prick of light seemed out of place, a single glittering star in the middle of a black hole. But rather than disappearing, the light glimmered as the moon reflected off its surface.

A piece of metal? she thought, handing the flask back to Fastolf.

Still, the light flickered. Small enough that it was barely noticeable. Consistent enough for her to know her eyes weren't playing tricks on her.

When she realized what it was, it was too late.

"Bounty hunter!" she screamed.

But by then, the first blasts of laser fire were already going off all around them.

44

High up in the tree, the amphibian bounty hunter had been watching his targets without blinking. He was only getting paid to kill the woman positioned toward the back of the group, but that didn't mean he had to let the others live.

With the tip of one of his suction-cup fingers, he tapped the visor that rose in a curved line from the shoulder pad of his gear and came up alongside his head. Every part of the Toaden was yellow and orange—perfect camouflage for the Forest of Tears. The only part of him that wasn't a natural adaptation to forest hunting was his armor, but most of this was painted to match his skin color. The only bits that revealed their true metal shine were parts that had been scratched during his previous mission and hadn't yet been repainted.

From his perch fifty feet above ground, halfway up the tree, he watched the Basilisk wander off from the rest of the group. As it did, the Toaden's bulbous eyes squinted shut in disgust. He considered hopping to a different tree for a clearer shot of the disgusting reptile and to keep it in his sight but decided against the possibility of making unnecessary noises. The primary target was what he was going to be paid for. She and her friends would all be dead quickly enough. When they were, the Toaden would turn its attention to the repulsive Basilisk.

The bounty hunter blinked his eyes, causing the bar that curved next to the side and top of his head to come down in front of his face and over his eyes. As soon as it was in place, the gray panel became illuminated, turning the Toaden's view of the forest from his natural eyesight to the refined imagery that the targeting system afforded. He blinked once and the tiny screen in front of his eyes showed the group of people as a series of purple objects in a gray forest. He blinked again and the screen showed his targets by their heat signatures.

The woman and the largest of the humans were at the tail end of the group. The Basilisk was nowhere in sight. The android at the front of the group was useless. The Toaden would get no reward nor any satisfaction out of killing it. Behind it, slightly obscured by tree branches, were an old man and a younger woman. Still further back was a man of slender build, walking by himself.

The Toaden croaked a slight laugh. Sometimes it took actual skills and ruthlessness to collect his pay. Other times, like now, it was as easy as watching his targets walk right into his targeting range. A few more steps and blaster fire would cut them all down.

One of his suction cup fingers touched a button on his shoulder. A soft whirling noise sounded but was easily masked by the rustling leaves all around him. A cannon moved into place on the shoulder opposite from his visor screen. A light on his screen blinked to indicate when he had a clear shot. It blinked once, blinked again, blinked once more, then three times in rapid succession. The light on the display he was looking through turned from red to yellow.

The Toaden narrowed his eyes. As he did, the woman at the back of the group yelled, "Bounty hunter!" but it was already too late. Bracing his bowed legs against the tree in preparation for the force of his shoulder cannon, he pressed the trigger and watched a blast of light shoot out from beside his head, right into the chest of one of the humans below.

Walking into an Ambush, by Chris Dietzel – Digital Photo Manipulation
45

"Bounty hunter!" Vere yelled, darting past Fastolf, toward the rest of the group.

The others, save for Pistol, turned to look at her rather than duck for cover. Before she could say anything else, a beam of energy shot out from the tree top and struck Occulus' chest. The laser beam passed through him, sizzling where it struck the ground a few feet away.

Occulus gurgled and put his hands to his chest before stumbling backward.

It wasn't the laser blast that was pushing him backwards, however. Although a laser destroyed almost anything it hit, it didn't have actual force behind it the way a club or an ancient metal cannonball did. Rather, it passed directly through flesh and matter, incinerating any organic material it came in contact with. The sensation Occulus was feeling, of being forced backward, was a trick of the mind as the body went into shock. Other people who were hit by laser fire, either to their arms or legs, remained perfectly upright and complained of a burning sensation that pulsated through the area of their body that had been hit. Having been hit directly in his chest, though, a large portion of his ribs and an entire lung now missing, Occulus wouldn't notice this. His body was already shutting down. He immediately went into shock, stumbling about until Vere raced up and held him so he didn't fall. In her arms, she lowered him until he rested on the ground.

Morgan and the others had realized they needed to find cover. Everyone except Vere, who was still cradling Occulus in her arms, fled for the protection of the nearest tree trunk.

"Where is he?" Morgan shouted.

"I don't know."

"Beats me."

A'la Dure just shrugged.

"Pistol?" she said, looking for the android. He was the one she had been looking for a response from anyway.

"Halfway up a tree, approximately two hundred and twenty feet away," the android said.

Pistol and Morgan both knew it was pointless to try and explain which tree when they were surrounded by hundreds of giants that looked exactly alike. Only when the bounty hunter moved positions or fired again would they be able to see where the blast had come from and begin sending back any kind of meaningful countermeasures.

Morgan would have been content to let that take as long as necessary, but seeing Vere out in the open, an easy target, she cursed under her breath, and darted from one tree to another. As she did, she let off three shots of her blaster, hoping one would come close enough to the bounty hunter to make it think she might know where it was. After a deep breath, she darted to another tree and sent another four laser blasts sailing through the trees. Other than yellow and orange leaves drifting to the ground from above, there was no indication that her shots were doing anything at all.

"Traskk," she said, "Aim halfway up the trees directly in front of me." And then, a moment later, "Traskk?"

No matter where she looked, she couldn't find the reptile. The first person she did see, however, didn't restore any confidence in their situation. Behind a tree, roughly twenty feet away, Fastolf was sticking out a blaster and sending laser streaks into the forest.

"It's better than nothing, I guess," she muttered before running toward another tree, sending another three blaster shots as she did.

She hoped that between the two of them they might get close enough to at least make the bounty hunter move to another location and reveal where he was hiding.

Behind the tree closest to Vere, A'la Dure's feet kept dancing in little semicircles, inching toward Vere and then back toward the direction of the bounty hunter as she tried to decide between darting out into the open and dragging her friend to safety or trying to shoot at whatever was targeting them. Perhaps realizing that if she were the one dying she wouldn't want to be left to die alone, she turned and began half-heartedly shooting in the same direction as Fastolf and Morgan.

"Get down," Morgan said to Vere as she fired, seeing her out in the open with the dying man in her arms.

But Vere either didn't hear her or didn't care because she remained there, on her knees, with Occulus' head in her lap.

He was gasping for breath he didn't have. As he did, he let out a stream of stuttered noises, either trying to find the words he was looking for or in such a complete state of shock that he didn't even know how his teeth clattered together and his tongue floundered. His eyes looked through Vere at nothing.

There was no blood on his chest, no puddle spreading across the ground underneath him. The laser blast destroyed every part of him it had touched as it passed through him but it also cauterized everything in the process. The result was a man, dying in her arms, smoke coming from his chest, that, if she pulled back the loose cloth that flapped in front of his wound, would reveal a hole the size of a human fist, straight through his chest and back. The opening would be sealed on all sides by flesh that had melted and then reformed into a scarred mess.

He gasped for air.

"It's going to be okay," Vere said, holding his head.

Morgan was yelling and firing her blaster as rapidly as it would allow, trying to get the bounty hunter's attention off the easy target. "Get down!" she yelled at Vere again, but saw nothing she said was being heard.

"You," Occulus said, gasping, spittle forming at his mouth and running into his white beard.

"Yes?"

"You..."

"Occulus."

"You..." His eyes focused on her for a moment, right into the gray of her irises. A moment later, he was staring through her again.

"Occulus."

"You can be... whatever type of person... you want."

He gave a slight groan, then stopped breathing and looked at peace.

"Don't start with that right now," she said, trying to offer a playful belligerence. "We'll get you better. We'll fix you right up. Then you can lecture me." She smiled but the feeble man in her arms didn't reply.

"Don't just sit there," Morgan yelled, tossing a blaster to Baldwin. "At least be useful."

To her surprise, he not only picked the weapon up, but aimed at one specific tree after another, trying to find one that might make the killer reveal his position—the methodical scientist versus her random bloodlust.

"Maybe there's use for you after all," Morgan said.

Occulus squeezed Vere's hand and said something she couldn't hear.

"Don't try to talk. We need to get you to a medic."

When he sighed, a strange gurgling noise came from his wound. That was when she knew he would die right there.

"You have to find... the Green Knight," he said.

"This is no time for lectures. I don't even know where he lives. I know this entire planet. There is no Green Chapel."

His eyes focused on her. He coughed. Then his eyelids drooped and she thought he was gone.

"There is," he said. His eyes closed and he stopped breathing.

She squinted at him, not understanding. Off in the distance, feeling and sounding impossibly far away, her friends were shooting blasters into the trees, trying to flush out the bounty hunter that had done this.

She thought he had already died when his eyelids opened once more and he whispered, "You spent your childhood there."

His eyes, which had been staring through her, now stared at nothing at all, becoming glassy and lifeless. His chin rolled to the side. His heart had stopped.

"Occulus?"

Her friend remained motionless. She waited for him to gasp for one more breath, to whisper another word and explain what he meant, but there was nothing.

"Occulus," she said, shaking him lightly.

To her side, Fastolf and Morgan were still spraying the forest with laser blasts. Baldwin was shooting at a tree, waiting, then shooting at the next tree. A'la Dure was shooting the same tree trunk over and over until it collapsed. Leaves poured down all around them. Traskk was nowhere to be found.

"Occulus," she said again, closing her eyes.

When she opened them, his lifeless face seemed perfectly at peace. She wiped her hand across his eyelids so they closed, then stood up. There would be time to bury him after the bounty hunter was dead.

That was when the next cannon blast tore through the trees, destroying the fallen tree trunk next to her and sending splinters into everything nearby.

46

The Toaden watched everything going on below. Even though they thought they were protected, most of his targets were still completely out in the open as far as his shoulder cannon was concerned. Three of them were behind giant trees that would be turned into splinter bombs when his cannon ripped through them. The only thing keeping him from doing so was their annoying laser fire. It offered just enough worry to keep him attentive, making him focus on if and when he would have to jump out of the way of a lucky shot. He remained where he was, waiting for their blasters to lose their charge. As soon as they did, he would have an easy shot.

Only the android, which he didn't care about, knew how to stay safe. It was smart enough to turn off its primary systems so the Toaden's sensors couldn't find him. The Basilisk offered no threat either, but only because it had disappeared. The woman who was out in the open was the one who would make him rich when he killed her. Having the opportunity to kill a Basilisk, the natural enemy of Toadens for thousands of years, was enough to make the bounty hunter cricket with delight.

With one of his long fingers, he touched a suction cup fingertip against the cannon to change the setting. Then he blinked, changing the screen that had lowered in front of his face from infrared to one of gray tones that could see through trees and everything else in a forest. Except for the rotten Basilisk, they were all there for the taking. He just had to wait for the annoying pests to stop firing their blasters all over the place.

A shot landed four feet away from him, hurting his amphibian eyes with its intense light. He thought about hopping to another tree but even if they didn't see him move they would see the branches swaying. The leaves would rustle. If his location was given away he would lose every advantage he had. Knowing he had all the time in the world, he waited.

His primary target was still sitting on the ground, too stupid to realize she was talking to a dead man. The Toaden laughed at the ease of this kill. To think he was going to be paid a fortune for killing someone who refused to try and hide.

He noticed the succession of shots by the woman and the heavy-set man was beginning to slow down. Their blasters were losing their charges. He crouched back into firing position, his thick hind legs keeping him facing forward, then coordinated his cannon to be in sync with the target he designated on the screen in front of him.

There was a rustling of leaves by his feet but there had been twigs and leaves scattering everywhere due to the lasers streaking everywhere, and so he ignored it.

The light on his shoulder cannon changed from red to yellow.

The next two things that happened occurred at almost the exact same time. One was the Toaden pressing the trigger to send another blast of cannon fire down toward his targets. The other was the clawed hand of an extremely angry Basilisk reaching up and tearing the bounty hunter out of the tree.

47

It had taken Traskk longer than he wanted to get to the Toaden. It hadn't been because he needed to look for the filthy creature; he could smell the thing from half a mile away. After repeated attempts to warn a distracted Vere, he decided to kill the thing by himself. It had taken a while, though, because he needed to circle out wide enough to make sure the alien forgot about him and wouldn't notice him approaching from the side. If he had darted away from the group without cause it would have looked suspicious, so for the first few hundred feet, he lumbered away from the others as if looking for a snack. To add to the delay, as he got closer to the Toaden he was slowed by having to duck for cover as Morgan's, Fastolf's, and the others' errant shots went sailing past his snout and tail.

Once he was at the base of the tree where the Toaden was positioned, all of that patience was forgotten. Traskk's natural venomous hatred for Toadens got the better of him and without thinking about his own safety, he pushed his legs and tail against the ground, thrusting upward, leaping three stories in the air. At the peak of his jump, he wrapped his hand around the Toaden's filthy foot and ripped it out of the tree. Right as he did, a blast of cannon fire shot out of the bounty hunter's shoulder pack, toward the spot where Vere and the others had been.

Even before he landed back on the ground, a noxious odor filled Traskk's lungs and his long tongue hung out of his mouth as he gagged. Toaden venom. At its worst, it caused severe burns and even death. At its best, it stunk like a pile of foul trash. This Toaden's venom was somewhere in the middle. It wasn't burning Traskk's flesh off where he had touched the creature, but it was bad enough to make the reptile retch and momentarily lose track of the bounty hunter.

If asked, the Toaden would say the toxin was a defense mechanism. Traskk, though, knew it for what it was: a scared alien losing control of its bodily functions. He was even more angry knowing the filthy creature's juices were on his hand than he was when he sensed it was getting ready to ambush them.

When he roared, the yell echoed through the entire forest, causing a flock of speckled wands to fly off into the sky.

A burst of laser fire erupted next to him. The Toaden was back in the trees, shooting at Traskk with a handheld blaster that fired quicker than the shoulder cannon but also had less power.

Traskk leapt up toward it, but the creature immediately hopped to the next tree. When Traskk jumped toward that one, the bounty hunter hopped to the next one, turning just quickly enough to fire off three more shots that all sailed past the Basilisk.

Although he could climb just as high as the Toaden could jump, Traskk knew he couldn't do it as fast, and so rather than follow the Toaden from tree branch to tree branch, he acted like he was going to jump toward the Toaden, waited to see which direction the bounty hunter was going, then ran across the ground to the tree and slammed his massive tail against its base. The tail smacked with such force that the tree trunk cracked and the entire thing began to fall toward the ground.

By the time it landed, though, the Toaden was gone, hopping from one tree top to another, all the while sending off bursts of laser fire back at Traskk. From tree to tree, the giant reptile slammed his tail against the trunks, snapping the smaller ones and causing quakes up the larger ones.

"Just one?"

Traskk looked behind him. Vere was there, looking up at the trees. Behind her, Morgan was also approaching. He growled an affirmative and glanced at where the Toaden was now perched. A spray of blaster shots hit the ground near their feet, causing them to jump to the side.

Traskk told her to shoot the trees as he tried to narrow the bounty hunter's radius, but Vere held up a hand.

"I have a better idea," she said, withdrawing the Meursault blade from its sheath.

Looking up at the trees for a sign of the bounty hunter that had killed her friend, she let out a yell and wound back her hands. The invisible blade slashed through the air, leaving a yellow-orange trail of air behind it. A blade that was so thin it couldn't be seen, a blade that could easily slice through metal and stone, had no problem cutting through even the thickest trees.

In one stroke, the sword sliced down a pair of large trees. Both began to fall. But she was still running. The next swing brought with it another leaf-colored slash of air and another two large trees falling to the ground. Another slash, another set of trees downed. In a matter of seconds—the colored vapor dissipating where the sword had cut through the air—half a dozen trees were down and a clearing had been created. Best of all, the Toaden hadn't been able to jump from the trees quickly enough to get away. After jumping from one tree that was falling to another that was also falling, he missed a step and went crashing to the ground, where a tree landed on top of his V-shaped legs, not only crushing his feet but also trapping him in place.

The bounty hunter, which had shot a hole through Occulus' chest and killed him, had put up a good fight against Traskk. Now, though, it gave a pitiful, wailing cry as it tried to free itself from under the tree.

"Ribbettttt," it croaked over and over, disgusting Traskk to no end.

When it saw Traskk and Vere approaching, it looked for its blaster, saw it was too far away to reach, saw too that its shoulder cannon had been destroyed, and then let out an even louder cry.

"Ribbbettttt!"

The noise made Traskk growl from deep within his throat.

Vere put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving forward and, the Meursault sword hanging from her other hand, said, "He killed Occulus."

Traskk growled something back at her.

And with that she gave the Toaden one last look, sheathed her sword, and turned back to find the others. As she walked away, she heard the bounty hunter make one last series of croaking wails, heard Traskk growl, then the sounds of arms being ripped off, fangs tearing flesh from bone, and an angry Basilisk finally getting its vengeance.

As she approached her group, she saw Baldwin crouched overtop Occulus even though he was dead and nothing could be done. Part of her wanted to run up and push him away from her friend. Part of her wanted to yell toward the sky until every bounty hunter with plans to kill her knew exactly where she was. Better to face all of them at once than be hunted across the entire planet.

Baldwin saw her approach and stepped back from Occulus' remains. Fastolf, for once, knew not to joke or try to make light of the situation. Pistol stood aside, perfectly still, eyes dim, until called upon to do something else. A'la Dure sat on a fallen tree trunk, her eyes closed.

"Is it dead?" Morgan said, referring to the bounty hunter.

Vere nodded, then got on her knees and began moving away all the leaves in front of her.

"I apologize, Vere," Pistol said. "There is so much life around us in these forests that my sensors couldn't detect one as being a threat."

"It's fine, Pistol," Vere said, still moving dirt away from one spot of the ground. "I understand."

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked.

"We have to bury him."

"We don't have time."

When Vere ignored her and began moving dirt away, Morgan said, "Pistol, how much longer to the capital?"

The android's eyes brightened. "Four days and six hours."

"You see?" Morgan said to Vere. "We need to go right now. We can't wait."

"She's right," Baldwin said meekly, refusing to make eye contact with Vere when she looked at him.

Vere paused in her digging, then stood up. "We at least need to burn his body. It's the least he deserves. We can't just leave him here to rot."

"And signal every bounty hunter exactly where you are? Fastolf, tell her she's not making any sense."

But the joker of the group kept silent, refusing to say anything.

Morgan said, "Pistol, how many ships are in the area?"

"Seven. No, another just arrived. Eight."

"And how many are friendly?"

"Please rephrase."

"How many are CasterLan ships?"

"None."

"There? You see?" Morgan said. She put a hand on Vere's back, gently urging her forward, but Vere turned and smacked her hand away. Face to face with Morgan, she raised a fist. The two women glared at each other on either side of Occulus' body.

Baldwin shook his head and said, "Not like this. This is the last thing he would have wanted."

"I know you'll hate me for saying it," Morgan said, "but he would have wanted you to get back and prevent the war more than anything else. The last thing he would have wanted was for you to get there late because of him. You know I'm right. If you hate me for saying it, hate me later, but right now, we have to go."

Vere looked down at her friend's face. He looked completely at peace there on the ground. Already, some of the leaves she had pushed away were creeping back toward his body as the breeze came through. Soon, he would be completely covered under yellow and orange by the Forest of Tears.

"Fine," she said, turning in the direction of CamaLon and everything she had once run from.

As she walked, though, she couldn't help but imagine her old friend as yet another sad spirit floating through the forest for eternity. The thought made her eyes burn, and she made sure to walk ahead of everyone else so they couldn't see her face.

48

Above Edsall Dark, at the Tevis-84 portal, a convention of sorts was taking place. Bounty hunters from all around the galaxy had heard about the price put on Vere CasterLan's head and had raced through three, four, or five connecting portals in order to arrive here and have a chance to be the one to kill her. Bounty hunters from as far as the Twi-Nik-Die sector arrived in a matter of minutes because they jumped from a portal there to a portal in the Vonnegan Empire to the PlunkTon portal to the Tevis-84 and just like that they had gone from one side of the galaxy to the other, all for a chance to get rich.

A Cig-Non attack vessel, slower than most bounty hunters would prefer but heavily armored to withstand surprise attacks, appeared through the portal and was immediately attacked by a Ting-9 fighter that didn't want the competition. The Cig-Non's armor absorbed the barrage of blaster fire sent at it, then returned its own assault. The Ting-9 fighter, although fast, couldn't outrun the Cell-missile sent its way. It disintegrated into hundreds of unrecognizable parts, leaving the Cig-Non to fall toward the planet's surface.

A pair of modified ion-chargers sent proton torpedoes at a bounty hunter whose ship was entering Edsall Dark's atmosphere on its way to find Vere. The ion-chargers were a favorite ship of bounty hunters because of their speed, but they carried limited firepower. Even so, halfway to the planet's surface, one of their proton torpedoes found its mark and the ship that had possessed the head start erupted into flames before breaking into ten different parts.

Every ship that tried to make its way to the planet's surface had to fend off three other ships trying to do the same thing. There were no allegiances, no teams banding together. To do so would violate the bounty hunter's code.

Ships of all sizes and types sent blaster fire and bombs at one another on their way toward the Forest of Tears.

Just before finding a spot to land, a Lerrk bounty hunter had to fend off a pair of automated Twin-Turbo-Basel fighters, each piloted by an android. This was particularly infuriating for the Lerrk because it meant the person trying to get rich off of the kill was probably already wealthy and had chosen to remain safely at home instead of enter the battle himself. Rather than land, the Lerrk was forced to turn his vessel around, send a cluster of gravity bombs toward the pair of ships, then began attacking another ship that had appeared through the portal and was making its way toward the forest.

No CasterLan ships departed from CamaLon to fend off the bounty hunters. Nor did any dash across the fields and into the woods in an attempt to find Vere and her companions.

49

"We need to talk," Morgan said.

Vere stepped over a fallen tree, then ducked under a large branch before answering that she wasn't in the mood for conversation.

Behind her, a man she had called a friend, a man who had sat beside her for six years, enjoying jokes and making toasts, lay dead on the ground, not even buried with a marker. She promised herself that if she did get through this, as improbable as that seemed, she would return, find Occulus' body, and give him the proper burial he deserved.

They had walked for another eight hours without significant rest. Every two hours they stopped to refill their canteens with whichever source of fresh water they could find, but they never sat down because they all knew that if they did, it would be torture to force themselves back up to their tired feet again. Not only that, but any unnecessary delay would make their chances of getting back to CamaLon in time even less likely.

"I know he was your friend," Hotspur's former Lieutenant said, adopting the friendliest tone she could muster, "but we have to plan ahead."

"Make your plans if you have to. But do me a favor: keep them to yourself."

"Listen, Occulus would have—"

"This isn't about Occulus."

"Oh?" Morgan said, thinking they were getting somewhere.

"I just don't like you." Vere passed between two giant trees covered with orange and red leaves and then added, "No offense. I'm sure other people do. Just not me."

"Did you think you'd be able to get by the rest of your life only being around people you like?"

Fastolf answered on his friend's behalf: "It worked for her the last six years, didn't it?"

"How about this?" Morgan said, ignoring the oaf behind her. "If we get through this, you'll never have to see me again."

Vere looked over to see if the other woman was being serious or facetious. It was one thing to offer the comment while being forced to work together. They would get through this mission and then go their separate ways. It was quite another thing if Morgan was hinting that Vere wouldn't have to see her again because one day later her head would be separated from her shoulders at the hands of the Green Knight. Those would be fighting words. But Morgan seemed to be genuine in her sentiment.

"Works for me."

"Great. We have a lot to talk about then."

"I'm not talking about Occulus."

Morgan started to shake her head in amazement, then caught herself. To her, it made no sense to waste time talking about the dead while the living were at risk.

"Okay, whatever works for you."

Vere frowned. "Or the Green Knight."

"Fine, we don't have to talk about him either."

Without being prompted to do so, Pistol announced how much further they still had to go. Baldwin gave a slight groan that he might not even have been aware he made. Fastolf pulled out his flask and took a sip, then offered it to Vere. Without pausing, she waved it away as she continued to walk.

"Get on with it," she said to Morgan.

"Well, we're dead set on getting back to your father. We agree on that much. What do you propose we do when we actually get there?"

"I'm not sure I understand," Vere said between tight lips.

When she looked to her other side to see if A'la Dure could make sense of it, her friend only shrugged and kept walking.

Morgan said, "Someone put a bounty out on you. And not just any bounty. From the amount of assassins coming to Edsall Dark, I'd say they put out a record amount. Someone is willing to pay a lot of money to make sure you die."

"The Vonnegan general—"

But Morgan finished the sentence for Vere: "Could just as easily have had the fleet destroy your ship a couple days ago."

"Then who?"

Morgan took a deep breath, then watched Vere's reaction out of the corner of her eye for the punch that might be coming her way. "Your father?"

But instead of taking offense, Vere only laughed. "Have you been drinking the same stuff as Fastolf?"

Playing along, Fastolf held his hands in the air, palms out, the sign of a wrongly accused man.

Morgan said, "If he's sick, maybe his mind is slipping. He ordered an attack on an innocent ship in Vonnegan space; there's no telling what he's capable of if he's lost his mind."

Vere shook her head. "I'm still sure that has to be some sort of mistake. He wouldn't order an attack like that. And no matter how senile my father gets, he'd never put a hit out on me." Then she nudged A'la Dure and mumbled, "If he went crazy, the worst he'd do is let me live my own life."

A'la Dure smiled at the cynicism and continued walking.

"Well," Morgan said, trying to keep her patience, "who do you know at Edsall Dark that would like to see you killed?"

Vere chuckled and broke a twig from a low-hanging branch as she walked under it. Using her thumb and index finger, she broke the twig in half, then said, "Who can keep count?" As she walked, she then broke those halves in half again and added, "Probably more people than would like to see me alive." She tossed the broken pieces of twig to the forest floor. "It's not like they'd be happy to have me as their next leader."

"Your step brother?"

"Modred?"

Morgan nodded. The few times she had seen Modred walking through the corridors of a Solar Carrier during a tour or a ship deployment, there had seemed to be something self-serving and vindictive about him. She was objective enough, however, to know she felt that way about anyone who hadn't earned their place in life. Vere included.

"I don't think he could hurt a bug," Vere said. "I only saw him a few times growing up. Years before Lady Percy married my father, when Modred and I were both kids, I pulled the wings off a tiny crawler and he ran from the classroom crying and got me in trouble."

"Maybe it was Lady Percy?"

Vere rubbed her chin. "Maybe. But why?"

"To get control of the kingdom."

It sounded straightforward but there was one huge problem, which Vere was kind enough to point out: "My father is dying anyway. And I was nowhere to be found until this war became imminent. She could have had the kingdom without having me killed."

Fastolf said, "A sip for all the what-could-have-beens and what-should-have-beens," and this time Vere took him up on the offer and accepted the flask.

"This is hopeless," Morgan growled, walking ahead to where Baldwin and Traskk were making their way through the dense woods in silence.

Only a minute later, Pistol stopped walking, turned to look back at the others, and said, "Up ahead: use extreme caution."

In the distance, through the thick cluster of trees, they could see a collection of lights.

Fastolf pulled his blaster and aimed it at them but Vere put her hand on top of the barrel to push it back down by his side.

"You get to see the ghosts," she said, nodding toward the lights. "Scyphozoans. The spirits of the sad. The tears of the forest."

"Great," he grumbled, but his finger remained near the blaster's trigger. "I hope they're as much fun to be around as Morgan."

"If you don't touch them, they won't hurt you."

"Just like me," Morgan said, punching Fastolf's shoulder as she walked past him.

"Famous last words," he replied, rubbing the spot where he'd just been punched, following wherever Vere went. And where she went was straight forward, right toward the glowing lights.

50

For the first time in his career, Hotspur barged into the king's chambers without waiting to be called upon.

"There are bounty hunters all over our airspace," he said, pointing at the portal that orbited their planet.

"I know," Modred said. "They aren't harming anyone, though."

"They harm our planet with their mere presence."

Knowing how Hotspur's mind worked, knowing Edsall Dark's newly appointed military leader would love nothing more than to send a portion of his fleet to destroy every unscrupulous mercenary within the solar system, Modred said, "Leave them alone."

"The king would not want them here."

"The king?" Modred said, throwing a hand over his shoulder at the shriveled body lying pitifully in bed. Artan's cheeks were sunken into his face. His eye sockets seemed impossibly deep. "The king does not have a say in the matter. His replacement is giving you the order. A replacement, I might remind you, who appointed you as the new CasterLan fleet leader. You didn't seem to mind my authority when I gave you that title."

Hotspur took one stride toward the king's stepson. "Give me a reason to ignore the bounty hunters."

"Other than because I ordered it?"

There were a lot of things Modred could have said. He could have said Hotspur had better learn to respect what Modred commanded because, like it or not, his mother was the queen and no one else was around to rule. He could have said there were going to be a lot of changes soon and it was important to pick the correct side.

But seeing the man so close to him, so large in his space armor, he said, "If they are still here when the Vonnegan fleet arrives, they can help us in the fight."

Hotspur, trained to respect authority in all forms, actually scoffed at this sentiment. The two men stared at each other for a brief moment. Then Hotspur laughed and left the room without a formal parting. After he was gone, Modred had no idea if his fleet commander was going to obey his orders or do whatever he wanted.

51

The closer they got to the Scyphozoans, the more each blur of light coalesced into its own distinct shape. What had been a glowing patch of forest at dusk was now illuminated by more than one hundred radiant creatures lighting a pathway through the nighttime forest.

"They're beautiful," Baldwin said, looking at the collection of tentacled, wandering beings in front of them.

As far as they could see from left to right, the glowing forms drifted over the ground. Each time a gentle breeze came through the woods, the collection of gelatinous globules moved slightly farther through the forest, their limbs trailing behind, then dangling loosely underneath them again once the wind died down. Any part of the ground that had been touched by a Scyphozoan tentacle had a luminous glow that faded over time.

"I've never seen this many," Vere said, her mouth slightly open in a state of awe. "I've been here countless times. I normally only see one or two."

"These are the sad spirits of the forest," Morgan said, then wished she had kept her thought to herself after noticing A'la Dure's bereaved look.

Vere's silent friend, along with all the others, were either wishing Occulus was still with them or was imagining him as one of the glowing spirits.

Baldwin stared in amazement, almost whispering, "When I was little, my grandmother told me that my grandfather was one of these ghosts because he'd died in battle right after they got married. I think she was trying to bring me into her way of coping with the loss, but I was too young to appreciate that. Instead, it just left me terrified of these things until I was old enough to understand what they really were."

Some Scyphozoans were slightly larger than others, but all of them shared the common feature of resembling a floating teardrop, a narrow top and an extremely wide base.

"It must be like looking in a mirror, right?" Pistol said, patting Fastolf on the back.

The oaf could only groan.

They had walked without rest for nearly a day, but in that moment, all of them were overcome with the dazzling view of dozens and dozens of these beautiful things swaying through the forest in complete peace and calm. The sound of leaves rustling as the breeze came through, followed by the slow wandering of the soft blue glowing lights was hypnotic.

Traskk's tongue darted out of his mouth as he spoke in a low grumble.

"What did he say?" Morgan wanted to know.

Vere continued to gaze at the lights drifting in front of her when she spoke. "He said they have no smell. He can smell just about anything and they don't have any kind of odor at all. All living things, even trees and grass, have smells. But not these things."

As if to agree with Vere's translation of what he had said, Traskk offered a low whine. Vere had seen the reptile, twice the size of any normal man, rip murderous aliens apart during bar fights. She had seen him overcome with bloodlust upon seeing a Toaden outside the bar on Folliet-Bright. And, only hours earlier, had heard that viciousness as he tore the amphibian bounty hunter apart. When these things happened, it didn't matter what she said or how many people were with her; nothing was going to stop Traskk from killing what he wanted to kill. But now, that same Basilisk was stepping awkwardly back and forth, wanting to stay as far away from the Scyphozoans as possible. His tail, which could kill someone with its force or uproot a tree, dragged limply on the ground.

"Do we go around?" Baldwin asked.

"It will take too long," Vere said.

Fastolf raised his blaster again but A'la Dure grabbed his wrist so hard that he gave a slight cry and immediately pulled his hand back.

"You won't hurt them," Vere said, agreeing with A'la Dure.

His pride hurting as much as his wrist, Fastolf tried to make a joke out of it: "Scared of the ghosts, are you? A plague of cowards! Every last one of you." And yet he also backed away from the Scyphozoans as he said it.

It was Morgan who said, "If you grew up on Edsall Dark you'd know you don't do anything to harm the tears of the forest."

"Plus," Baldwin said, "my father told me anyone who killed a Scyphozoan eventually became one."

"Occulus used to tell me that too," Vere said, lowering her head, "My mother believed her parents were out here as well. Although, for a completely different reason."

In that moment, she joined A'la Dure in becoming incredibly saddened by the sight of the aimless beings in front of her. Each one was a reminder not just of all the people she had lost in her life, but a reminder that the galaxy was a cold and lonely place. Every second that went by was another opportunity to lose someone you loved. These glowing spirits seemed to be proof of that.

Another gust of wind came through. When it did, the entire legion of glowing forms drifted further from left to right. Their tentacles followed a moment later, trailing behind as the Scyphozoans were pushed through the woods, then hanging underneath the creature after it came to a rest.

Pistol said, "There is a twenty-nine percent chance we will make it to the kingdom in time, but that probability is decreasing every moment."

Without another word, Vere stepped forward until she was mere feet away from the nearest glowing creature.

Traskk gave a nervous hiss.

Fastolf yelled, "What are you doing?"

Without turning to look back at them, Vere said, "They won't hurt you if you don't touch them. They have long tentacles but they won't reach for you. Just keep a safe distance." Then she continued forward, making her way in between the deadly souls.

Morgan followed. Then Pistol. Then A'la Dure.

Seeing them leave him, Baldwin uttered a prayer to himself, then began carefully navigating the field of venomous spirits.

Fastolf retrieved his flask from his vest and took a big gulp. He was going to put it back in his pocket but Traskk reached for it and took a drink as well. When the reptile handed it back, it was empty.

Both of them had their reasons for being worried. Fastolf's giant belly gave him less room for error in navigating through the field of glowing creatures, making it much more difficult to walk between them without touching one. Traskk's tail might have been an even greater liability. It was longer than he was tall and was continually moving with what seemed to be a mind of its own. Surely, it would accidently touch a Scyphozoan.

"Do we stay here?" Fastolf said, looking out at the forest of glowing objects.

Traskk's answer was a low hiss and then a quick movement out into the beginning of the field of faint blue lights.

"Why me?" Fastolf said. After pulling out yet another flask, this one hidden in his rucksack, and taking a large drink, he too took a step forward.

At the front of the group, Vere called out, "They only move when the wind comes through. Other than that, it's fairly easy to find room between each one."

All around her, tear-shaped creatures glowed, turning the forest into a soft blue glow of tranquility. When she stopped and looked at the creatures, which might have been mindless jelly aliens just as much as they might have been the spirits of those she had known and loved, she saw a peacefulness she wished she could attain more often in her own life.

There had been sporadic instances—the quiet after a long day of telling jokes, the calm that came with taking the Griffin Fire out into space—in which she felt at one with the galaxy. However, those moments were few and far between. And when they did occur, they were fleeting, gone before she could hold onto them.

Looking behind her, she saw Morgan, Pistol, A'la Dure and everyone else, all at various distances, each following the path she was making through the tears of light. Looking forward again, she continued on.

Every once in a while she heard a rustling of leaves and called out, "Wind," and everyone watched the Scyphozoans closest to their left to see how far they would drift toward them. Then, as a group, everyone would adjust their path to stay away from the forest spirits.

At the back of the group, Fastolf took a deep breath and sucked in his gut as much as he could. Traskk actually picked up his tail in his arms and carried it so it didn't linger too far behind him or unconsciously wag from one side to the other and accidently touch one of the poisonous creatures.

He turned to Fastolf and growled a series of words in Basilisk but Fastolf was too filled with a combination of liquid courage and extreme fright to pay attention to what his reptilian friend had just said. He had no way of knowing that Traskk had just warned him that if he ever told anyone about seeing the Basilisk carry his tail, he wouldn't have a face the next morning.

"Wind," Vere said again, pausing to see how much each Scyphozoan would drift.

Another light breeze. Another gentle swaying of the Scyphozoans. All around them, the galaxy's most toxic living creature drifted only feet away from where they each stood.

As she took a step forward, the glowing tentacle spirit directly in front of her dissolved into a mist of light blue energy that hovered in the air like mist, then slowly descended toward the ground. The Scyphozoan she had been looking at was gone. She stared at the moist blue glowing light on the rocks by her feet, waiting for it to sink into the ground and disappear, trying to piece together what had just happened. In all the stories she had been told of the forest spirits—the forest's tears—she had never heard of them dissolving for no reason.

Then the reason hit her and she screamed, "Bounty hunter!"

Without any place to offer genuine protection from an enemy whose position she still didn't know, she scrambled between two Scyphozoans and crouched toward the ground, hoping the tree nearest to her would offer some cover.

A burst of laser fire came out of the trees, landing by her feet. At the same time, she felt a gentle breeze rush past her cheeks.

Immediately, she yelled, "Wind," and had to ignore the bounty hunter in order to make sure she dodged the throng of poisonous creatures drifting all around her.

There was too much going on around her for her to figure out exactly where the bounty hunter might be hiding. Another laser shot came near her face. Another Scyphozoan, hit by the blast, dissolved into blue mist, illuminating the air as phosphorescent light misted onto the ground. She withdrew her blaster and began firing toward the spot from where the shot seemed to have come. Behind her, Morgan was doing the same.

Vere asked Pistol if there was anything out there.

"There is life all around us," Pistol began to answer before seeing her expression and realizing that wasn't what she meant.

"Anything dangerous? Anything out of place?"

His eyes began to glow, then he said, "One life form different from all of the others. A medium sized creature. Positioned at point two."

"That wasn't so difficult was it?"

Pistol began to reply, then realized he wasn't supposed to.

Both Vere and Morgan adjusted their aim slightly to where the android had directed. A shot streaked toward them. When she ducked behind a tree, Vere came within inches of touching a Scyphozoan and had to leave her left shoulder out in the open to avoid getting stung by lethal toxin.

A gust hit her face.

"Wind!" she yelled and the legion of gelatinous creatures drifted once more.

Behind her, she heard a rustling of leaves and feared a second bounty hunter was coming up from behind, but it was only Traskk climbing a tree to avoid the group of Scyphozoans.

In front of her, another laser blast zipped past her face. In response, she sent a burst of five shots into the trees. Morgan sprayed a wider range of blasts all around Vere's shots in an attempt to catch the bounty hunter if he tried to move from his hiding spot. The tree they unleashed their blasters on lost its leaves first, then its branches, then its bark. By the time they were done firing, the tree didn't look like a tree at all but a burnt stick figure statue.

"Wind!" Vere yelled again, half forgetting the Scyphozoans were still moving all around her.

With no more shots coming at them, Morgan dashed forward to look for the bounty hunter. Vere used the opportunity to look behind her to make sure everyone in her group was still together.

Pistol and Baldwin were fine. Both were taking their time, carefully avoiding each spirit of the forest. Traskk was up in the trees, safe from any danger. Fastolf sipped from a flask while he inched forward.

Four people.

But there should have been five.

Her eyes caught a slight movement and she spun to aim her blaster at another bounty hunter. Instead, she saw A'la Dure, just behind Pistol and Baldwin, lying on the ground, shivering and convulsing as energetic blue light sparkled all over her skin. A Scyphozoan was drifting past her, one of its tentacles leaving phosphorescent light across her leg as it went.

52

"Hrrmmm," the Green Knight murmured as he sharpened his axe. It was the only thing he did. Morning, noon, and night, he was either motionless or he was at work, tending to his weapon. Each time the carbide stone rubbed against the blade, a steady GRRRRKKKKKK of rock scratching against metal echoed throughout the Green Chapel. And still, the Green Knight continued, as though the blade couldn't possibly become sharp enough.

As he worked, one of his thick, gloved hands gripped the axe so tightly that the green wood creaked. Trickles of water dripped all around him. From the rock ceiling. Down the rock walls. Out of the shadows. The Green Knight took no notice of his damp surroundings.

As the sun set, the Green Chapel was thrown further and further into darkness. The knight kept his head down, focused on nothing but the sharpening of his weapon.

GRRRRKKKKKK.

The Green Knight made a deep growl from far down in his throat.

"She's getting closer," a voice soothed from the darkness. "I can feel it."

The Green Knight grunted. It was a deep, rolling grunt like thunder in the distance or an earthquake rattling the world around them. But it was only the Green Knight's impatience.

"She will be here soon enough, my friend. I can feel it."

GRRRRKKKKKK.

53

Vere ran back to A'la Dure, who was shaking and twitching on the ground.

"It is not advisable to touch her," Pistol said in his monotone.

Sparkles of the Scyphozoan's energetic light shot over A'la Dure's skin like a rash of blue lightning. Vere either didn't hear or just didn't care what the android had said, though. Right as she got to her friend and reached down to scoop her up in her arms, Traskk tore Vere off the ground with his tail and pulled her away to a safe distance.

"Let me go," she said, pushing as hard as she could at the leathery tail wrapped around her waist but not succeeding in moving it at all. "Let me go," she screamed again, but still, Traskk held her slightly off the ground with his tail until she calmed down and could think practically about what she was attempting to do.

Baldwin leaned over A'la Dure's face but didn't dare touch her. After a moment he stood back up and said there was nothing that could be done for her.

"The toxin has already spread throughout her entire body," he said.

And still, A'la Dure shook violently on the ground as the blue bursts of light darted through her body.

Finally, when Vere stopped struggling, Traskk let her go, his tail unraveling and placing her feet on the ground. Before attending to her friend, she shoved Traskk as hard as she could. The giant reptile groaned with sympathy.

Morgan arrived back with the others a moment later. "I got him," she said, the barrel of her blaster still smoking, but no one said anything.

Vere stood over her dying friend, watching her twitch. Noticing everyone else around her, half of whom hadn't even known A'la Dure, she furrowed her brows. Between clenched teeth, she said, "I'll catch up with all of you."

When they didn't immediately begin to move away she yelled at them to go and continue walking again. Morgan still didn't move. In response, Vere clenched a fist and punched the tree trunk next to her, sending bark flying and also ripping up her knuckles. That was enough for the group to give her space and continue forward through the Forest of Tears.

Beside her, the last of the Scyphozoans drifted away as peacefully as it had arrived. When Vere looked back down she saw the final remnants of the poisonous energy seeping into A'la Dure's body. Even so, it would be an hour, maybe more, before anyone else could touch her without also becoming sick. Her friend's teeth clattered against each other. Her legs and arms quivered with tiny tremors. Her fingers were curled and frozen.

Knowing her friend was dying, it devastated Vere not to be able to take A'la Dure's hand in her own and offer some sort of comfort as she lay there. Even worse than not being able to at least squeeze her friend's hands, to keep them from shaking uncontrollably, was not knowing what to say in her final moments. Was she supposed to remain silent? Offer a story of happier, simpler times? Reminisce about the past? Say everything was going to be all right even though it obviously wasn't? None of it seemed like the correct thing.

A'la Dure's teeth were still chattering.

"I'm sorry," Vere said. "I..." She didn't know what else to say.

It was A'la Dure who spoke next. "Be..."

Vere leaned closer. "Yes?" Was that the way her friend's voice would have normally sounded or was it strained as she lay there dying of the Scyphozoan's poison? "Yes, what? Be what?"

Vere was only inches from A'la Dure's face now, willing her friend to finish her sentence.

A'la Dure uttered only one other word. In all the years they had known each other, they were the only two words Vere had heard the other woman speak.

"...better."

And then the violent shaking that racked her entire body slowed until it was completely gone and she lay motionless.

Vere stood and closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to believe A'la Dure hadn't gotten the chance to say everything she had intended. Part of her wanted to look for something other than what she knew it meant. It was useless, though.

Be better.

One of the only people who had known her after she had run away, one of the only people who had accepted her for who she was and for the flaws she carried with her, wanted her to be a better person. Not a better daughter. Not a better sword fighter. Not even a better pilot or thief. A better person.

Her eyes still closed, Vere took a deep breath, then exhaled. The air gone from her lungs, she felt lightheaded and dizzy. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her friend had the appearance of someone who had simply lain down on the ground and fallen asleep. There were no wounds, no burns. The violent tremors had given way to a serene stillness.

She looked behind her at where the Scyphozoans had been, half expecting them to come back and claim her friend's spirit as an additional tear in their forest. The soft blue lights were gone, however, leaving only a dim glow far off in the distance.

Be better.

The words echoed in her head.

"I will," Vere said. "I will. I promise."

Looking to where Fastolf, Morgan, and the others were making their way through the woods, she thought about starting off after them. Before she did, however, she crouched down to the ground and brushed a big pile of leaves into a hill which she then pushed on top of A'la Dure's body. It was the second time in as many days that she was leaving a friend to rot in the forest. And for the second time she promised to come back and give a proper burial when this was all over.

When she caught up to Traskk, she patted him on the shoulder and told him she was sorry she had pushed him.

"I know you were just protecting me."

In response, he let out a pleased reptilian purr and wrapped his tail around her waist in a hug as they walked.

54

Aboard the Commander Class Athens Destroyer, General Agravan stood in full space armor even though he was in his own quarters. In front of him, a holographic display appeared between him and the window that looked out at the galaxy. The image was that of a middle-aged man with an overly thick jaw, black hair, light purple skin, dark purple eyes, and fine robes. It was like looking at an adult version of what Minot would become.

"My lord," Agravan said, offering a slight bow, "Two more days until the invasion of Edsall Dark begins."

"Very good, General Agravan."

"If Artan's daughter does not turn him over to us in that time—which I am sure she will not—the invasion will commence. I will personally take the fleet through in a few hours just in case they turn the Tevis-84 portal off."

"They won't."

"My lord—"

"Arrangements have been made."

"Arrangements, my lord?"

"Yes. The portal will remain open. Even as you send the fleet through and they see the sky filling with Athens Destroyers, they will leave the portal open."

"You are sure, my lord?"

"Yes. All you have to do is send the fleet through in two days' time and the planet and the rest of the CasterLan Kingdom is ours for the taking."

"They have strong defenses."

"They are of no concern to us. I would not put Minot's safety at risk. It has all been arranged."

"Yes, my lord."

"And how is my boy doing?"

"He will honor the Vonnegan name."

"Indeed. He will learn how to become an excellent ruler after you have defeated Artan and his daughter."

"So it will be, Lord Mowbray."

55

Vere didn't speak the entire next day. When Fastolf put his arm around her as they walked, she gave him a sad smile but continued on in the direction of CamaLon.

"I can't stand to see you this way," he said.

The only recourse he knew was to offer her the comfort that his flask brought. Each time he offered it, she gave the same pitiful smile, sighed, and took a sip.

Finally, Morgan motioned for Fastolf to come look at the map she carried, even though Pistol was his own radar, map, and navigation system all in one. She watched as the rest of the group continued walking without them. After they were a safe distance away, she held the map out for Fastolf to see.

Confused, he said, "But it's upside down."

Before he could say anything else, she took hold of his ear the way she had in Eastcheap. She wrenched it so painfully hard that he gave an involuntary cry and dropped to one knee. The urge struck him to yell out so someone would turn and see what was happening and help him, but Morgan was either an expert on the weakness of others or else saw his pleading eyes dart toward Vere. She ripped her hand sideways, sending a wave of searing pain through the side of his head that kept him silent and dropped his other knee to the ground.

"What's your problem?" Morgan hissed. When he tried to answer—she had no idea if he was going to offer a smart-aleck response or a candid analysis of why he acted the way he did—she squeezed his ear even harder, hearing cartilage break. "She needs to keep her head straight. I don't care if you drink yourself to death, but she has the most important day of her life coming up."

She relaxed her grip on his ear just enough that he could think straight and come back up to his feet. As soon as she did, he cocked his hand back to punch her and she reapplied the pressure. His ear gave a sickening crunch and he dropped to his knees again.

"I've had enough of you," she said. "You're lucky I don't kill you right here."

He offered a series of pitiful cries and incoherent sobs. The flask in his hands dropped to the ground. Seeing it there, Morgan wound back and kicked it across the forest floor as far as she could.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry."

This time, when she released the pressure on his ear, he didn't fight, only said through the tears, "I can't just sit back and watch her life crumble apart. She lost two of her best friends. All she has left is me and Traskk." He stared at her, his lip trembling, before he added, "I don't know any other way to help her."

It was probably the first sincere thing the fat drunk had said in ten years, but instead of being sympathetic, Morgan said, "She has an entire kingdom that needs her. All the people who call her father their king need her."

"But she doesn't care about them," Fastolf said, again being completely frank. Then, thinking about what he'd said, he put his hands over his ears and curled into a ball.

"It's okay," Morgan said. "I'm not going to hurt you... and you're right. She doesn't care about them. I know that. But that doesn't mean she won't care about them when she sees the Vonnegan fleet coming through the portal to destroy everything she knows. That's why we have to keep her head straight."

"But Occulus," Fastolf said, crying. "A'la Dure."

"I know. I've lost people I loved too. Everyone has. But life goes on. Life always goes on. That's why I'm here in this godforsaken forest with you. It's why Baldwin left his home and had his nose broken twice in two hours. Do you think we want to be doing this? But it's what we have to do and so we do it."

In the distance, Vere called out, "Is everything okay back there?"—the first words she had spoken since A'la Dure's death.

Morgan held up a hand and said they were fine. Then she pulled Fastolf up off the ground, brushed the dirt off him, and got him walking in the right direction again.

Right before they caught up with the others, she said, "I don't want to see a flask again." When Fastolf didn't reply, she added, "I know you probably have more hidden on you somewhere," and Fastolf's shoulders came up toward his ears in fear.

"What was that about?" Vere asked her heavy friend, but Morgan answered for him: "Just strategizing for when we get to CamaLon."

"Whatever," Vere said, walking away without wanting to hear any more, not believing Fastolf would offer anything in the way of planning, and not caring what the truth was anyway.

Periodically, Baldwin withdrew a communications device, pressed some buttons, then put it back in his pocket.

"Still no signal."

"Save your time," Morgan said. "Obviously, someone is trying to make sure we can't call for help. Whoever it is, they're intent on making sure we have no contact with the rest of the CasterLan Kingdom."

Traskk growled a series of noises through his long fangs, his forked tongue lashing out as he spoke.

Even without knowing Basilisk, Morgan could guess what he had said and replied, "I'd guess the same person or persons who put the hit out on Vere wants to make sure she doesn't get back to the castle anytime soon, if at all."

Vere looked over at her but didn't say anything. She noticed that the next time Fastolf took a drink from his flask—smaller and slightly different in shape than the one he had been carrying earlier—he slipped it back in his pocket without offering her some.

"How much longer?" Baldwin said.

Without slowing down or turning back, Pistol said, "Approximately eighteen hours, if we keep this pace."

"How much further until we get out of the forest?"

"Approximately two hours and five minutes."

Only a minute later, they came upon a pond in the forest with a large wooden house in the middle of it. A quarter mile back, the entire two-story cabin had blended in with the trees. Now, directly in front of them, it seemed much too large to have gone unnoticed. A bridge connected the tiny island that the cabin was built on with the rest of the forest, making the pond around it resemble a moat more than a place to relax and get a swim.

Vere, Fastolf, and Baldwin all began walking toward it when Morgan said, "Where are you all going?"

"We've been walking for five days with almost no break," Vere said.

"You heard the android," Morgan said. "We're only eighteen hours away."

Instead of being insulted by being referred to as a thing rather than by his name, Pistol remained staring without expression. His eyes focused only in the direction of CamaLon.

Vere said, "And we'll be dead on our feet when we get there if we don't rest. How much help will we be to anyone if we can't function?"

Morgan saw the look in Vere's eyes, saw she wasn't trying to cause problems, wasn't looking for an excuse to drink and thieve in the lodge.

"All right," she said, "We rest for two hours," but the group was already crossing the bridge, passing over the moat without seeking her permission. Pistol waited at the edge of the bridge, content to remain where he was until needed again. With a groan, she turned and crossed the bridge as well.

56

The bridge's planks were thick, made of wood from the surrounding forest. Through the tiny sliver of a gap between each plank, Vere and the others could see the movement of little creatures the size of their fingers, swimming in the pond five feet below.

The cabin's front door was also solid wood, the same as everything else. It gave a loud groaning creak when Traskk pushed it open.

Inside, the cabin looked more like a miniature fort than a house. There were stone blocks and ornaments like the castles of old had been decorated with. A great room revealed wooden tables and benches and a pair of fires, one on either side of the hall, to keep guests warm.

"Welcome!" a woman with slightly pink skin said, coming down the steps from the second floor. "I welcome you to our humble dwelling."

"What is this place?" Vere asked. "I've never seen this inn before."

"We are fairly new," the woman said, smiling and holding her hands out to show off the cabin. "The Scyphozoans attract many a tourist. We offer guides to take people into the forest to see the spirits, as well as lodging when they return."

"And drinks?" Fastolf said. Then, seeing Morgan's eyes dart toward him, he cringed and made sure Vere was in between him and the woman who liked to tear his ear off.

"We're only going to be here for two hours," Morgan said to Fastolf. "You should get as much rest as you can."

"Do you know of a Green Chapel or a knight in these regions?" Vere asked the hostess.

The woman stuck her lower lip out in concentration, then smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I've never heard of either before." Her voice was melodic when she spoke, as if singing the answer. Then she walked off to get Fastolf a drink.

Traskk sniffed around, offered a subdued growl, then sat down at a bench and put his head down on a table. Vere sat beside him and did the same. Within seconds, both were sound asleep.

But Fastolf, and even more surprisingly, Baldwin, walked around to every corner of the inn, looking at all the holographic pictures on the walls and the prehistoric weapons on display, rather than trying to get some rest.

"I'm sorry for my friends," Morgan said to the host. "How much will we owe you for resting here?"

The woman seemed insulted by the question. "You will owe nothing! You are guests. You only pay if you stay the night or go on one of the tours."

"But—"

"Only if you go on a tour!" the woman sang again in a pleasing voice.

"Well, we've seen enough Scyphozoans for a lifetime," Morgan said, then bowed and sat at a table next to Traskk and Vere. She thought about calling out to Fastolf that he better not get in any trouble, but his ear was purple and swollen and she knew he understood what would happen if her sleep was interrupted by his foolishness. That was the last thought she had before she too closed her eyes.

A moment later she heard a second woman coming down the steps. Opening her eyes just long enough to assess the woman, Morgan saw that she looked almost identical to the first woman, except that her eyes were bright yellow instead of blue. The second woman looked just as harmless as their host. With this thought in mind, she let herself drift off to sleep.

"We have even more interesting things upstairs," the second woman said to Baldwin and Fastolf. "Our third sister is also up there."

"Triplets?" Fastolf said, and the second pink woman smiled and nodded.

Without another word, Fastolf, whose legs had been tired from walking for nearly five days, now skipped every other step as he made his way up to the second floor. Baldwin, not seeing the harm in looking around a little before he tried to rest, also climbed the steps.

When they got to the top of the steps, they saw a hallway with two doors on either side. The woman who had escorted them up the steps took Fastolf by the hand and walked into the first room with him.

Before closing the door, she said to Baldwin, "My sister is in the next room down the hall." Then the door shut.

Rather than going directly to the next bedroom, Baldwin opened the door opposite from the one Fastolf had just gone into. Fascinated by all the images and weapons on the wall, he walked into the middle of the room. In the dark, he slowly passed from one wall to another so as to ensure he didn't bang his leg against something that was hidden in the dark, grinning like a child as he did so at all the fascinating relics and pieces of history he was seeing on the walls...

Across the hall, in the privacy of their own room, the woman with pink skin and yellow eyes motioned for Fastolf to sit on the bed. He smiled and did as he was told, but before he could sit down she pushed him and he fell flat on his back.

"I—" he started to say but then she climbed on top of him.

For the first time in his life, rather than be excited at the prospect of being so close to an exotic beauty, he thought about his bruised and mangled ear and the woman downstairs who would tear it completely off if he got into trouble.

"I can't," he said, holding his arms out.

The woman smiled, tried to kiss him, but was once more pushed away. To entice him, she released a knot from her belt, causing her shirt to open slightly more than it had been before.

"I'm sorry, it's just that—"

"It's okay," the woman said in her singing voice, her smile not wavering. "Maybe you would like my other sister more?"

Without another word, she got off of him, walked to the door, then disappeared. Fastolf was so tired he preferred to close his eyes and sleep than to follow after her, but just as soon as his eyelids shut another woman was in front of him.

This one had pink skin that was a shade darker than the other two. She had on the same outfit, but her hair was dark—almost the same color as Morgan's and Vere's—rather than blond like the other two sisters. Unlike the previous women with their yellow and blue eyes, this woman's eyes were silver. He immediately thought of Vere. Rather than excite him, the idea made him moan in sadness, reminding him they had both lost two friends and wouldn't be able to laugh or joke for a long time to come.

"What?" the woman said, approaching, brows furrowing for only an instant before returning to a completely pleasant face. "Do not worry," she said, and then told him she would take care of everything...

Outside their room and across the hall, Baldwin had seen everything the first room had to offer. He closed the door behind him and walked quietly down the hallway to the next room, across the hall from where the other hostess was supposedly waiting for him.

The entire cabin, no matter what room he was in, had a peculiar smell. He supposed it was impossible for a dwelling surrounded by a moat in the middle of the forest to not have such a smell, but when Baldwin opened the door to the fourth room, a different kind of odor hit him. It wasn't dank and mildewy like the rest of the rooms. It was rotten.

Rotting.

"Oh my," he whispered, looking for a light.

On the walls, he could see outlines of more weapons and prehistoric relics. He ignored the smell long enough to step inside the room and look for a candle or light switch. When he heard rustling down the hallway—Fastolf and the woman—he ignored that, too...

Alone with the third sister, Fastolf was discovering that the one with silver eyes couldn't be as easily dismissed as the other two. The woman's lips were only inches from his mouth. He could smell the sweetness of her breath each time she exhaled.

But whereas the other women had reminded him of the pain Morgan would dish out if he acted out of line, this woman and her silvery eyes reminded him of the woman who was asleep downstairs, plagued with sadness. Thinking of her torment reminded him once again of its reason: a woman they had both known for six years, convulsing on the ground until she died. And this, only a day after Occulus had also died.

The hostess's tongue revealed itself ever so slightly. He closed his eyes and told her he would prefer to be alone.

The woman gave a slight hum of irritation, but even this was musical. Then she smiled and said that maybe he would enjoy someone else. He started to say that wouldn't be necessary but the woman was already gone.

Or so he thought. He didn't see her, but he also hadn't heard the door open or close. He looked at the door and the rest of the room to see if she was there, but in the darkness he couldn't be sure if fatigue was playing tricks on him. Without another thought, he closed his eyes and stopped worrying about it.

Just as quickly, another woman was on him. This one was a light cream color, with black eyes instead of silver. And whereas the other women had smiled and been accommodating, this one stormed across the room, used one hand to pin Fastolf down, then sat on top of him.

"What are you doing?" he said, but the woman used her other hand to cover his mouth. He pushed it away and said, "I thought there were only three of you."

Without answering, her hand went over his lips again, preventing him from saying anything else.

When he tried to ask a question, her hand went from playfully keeping him quiet, to forcing his mouth closed. And when she leaned in to kiss him, he noticed that while her eyes weren't silvery, her teeth were. He reached a hand up to push her face away but instead of pushing at a solid cheek or jaw, his hand seemed to squish into the side of her face.

"Huh?" he said, his speech muffled through the palm of her hand that still covered his mouth.

Her fingers locked even tighter around his mouth. His heart was racing. Something wasn't right...

At the end of the hallway, on the other side of the inn, Baldwin tried to figure out what could possibly smell so foul. Maybe this was where they kept the soiled linens before they were laundered. But the odor went beyond dirty sheets. As a practicing physician, he had smelled death and decay, and this smell, while different, certainly rivaled those.

Unable to find a light switch or a candle, he turned on the charge to the blaster that Morgan had given him in the forest. He wasn't comfortable holding the weapon. He had rarely had to fire one and had never hit a living target, but even he knew how to let the blaster keep an active charge so the side of the weapon glowed. Using it as a lantern, he saw vague, shadowy shapes come into focus. He saw a bed, a wardrobe, a collection of sacks. He squinted, holding the blaster out further. No, they weren't sacks at all.

Squinting, he took a step forward.

Bodies.

"What the..." he whispered.

Moving closer, he saw three men, all middle-aged, stacked with care in the corner of the room. The men had human-looking bodies: two arms and two legs, all the correct proportions. And yet there was no similar quality in their skin and faces. Instead, their skin looked like dull metal. Their faces looked like they had turned soft, the bones that helped form their cheeks and forehead having turned to jelly.

His eyes widened. There was only one thing in the galaxy that could do that to another living being: the venom of a Siren. Their saliva wasn't meant to be lethal. Not to their own species, at least. It was meant to aid in their species' procreation. The only two types of alien in the galaxy that could withstand a Siren's toxin were also shapeshifters. Every other life form that came into contact with their saliva died a painful, gruesome death as their bones turned soft, eventually suffocating to death as piles of loose skin and tissue.

Baldwin heard a yell from down the hallway, but when he turned to leave the room, one of the hostesses was in front of him. She bared her fangs, which, while being much shorter than Traskk's, were still longer than anything Baldwin wanted to see pointed at him. From one of her teeth, a drop of silvery liquid glistened.

Without hesitation, he brought his blaster up to shoot at her. Before he could squeeze the trigger, however, she changed shapes, turning from a beautiful woman with high cheeks and bright eyes, to a paper thin sheet that slipped easily through the floorboards and was gone. He was so scared, though, that he began firing the blaster straight down where he had last seen her.

Down the hallway, he heard Fastolf yell what he had already figured out for himself: "Shapeshifters!"

That was when blaster fire broke out everywhere.

57

A Classic-Z cargo hauler, one of the largest known ships in the galaxy, made its way across space. Slightly bigger even than an Athens Destroyer or a Solar Carrier, it only had a crew of five or six people, along with a complement of androids. The ship had no weapons, no armor, and no defensive measures.

All it did was carry materials from one part of the galaxy to another. The few times one had fallen under attack it had always been by pirates trying to steal their cargo. Yet this rarely happened because the freighters were always in CasterLan or Vonnegan space and would be protected by each kingdom's respective navies.

The captain of the Classic-Z saw the fleet of one hundred ships ahead of him. Since he was in CasterLan territory, on his way through the Tevis-84 portal to drop off a load of materials at Edsall Dark, he knew the ships would leave him be.

Only they didn't.

The fleet of Athens Destroyers left the cargo hauler alone until it came within cannon range. After it did, the ten closest Athens Destroyers powered up their starboard cannons and unleashed a volley of shots that tore the freighter apart.

Boxes of supplies drifted out into space. Bins of merchandise from the other side of the galaxy dispersed in various directions. Some would be found and salvaged by pirates. Some would become space junk for eternity.

After the Classic-Z had been reduced to pieces of charred metal, the Athens Destroyer at the rear of the fleet sent a single flare out toward its remains. A second away from hitting part of the destroyed ship, the flare erupted into light, displaying a purple war hawk, its wings spread. Behind it, red the same shade as the bird's bloody beak and gold the same shade as its eyes.

58

Vere was awoken from her brief sleep by three laser blasts shooting through the ceiling and landing in a line right next to her feet. Without saying a word, she jumped back and opened fire at the ceiling, knowing that her own blasts would also pass through the wood and hit whomever or whatever was shooting at her.

Traskk jumped back from the table, his tail accidently slamming against the edge of a bench and throwing it across the room. He and Morgan joined in shooting at the ceiling. Bit by bit, the ceiling gave way until there were giant holes not only in the ceiling, but in the roof of the inn. Soon, Vere and the others could look up and see not just sections of the second story but also treetops and stars.

A second round of shots came down from above, hitting close to Vere and the others. With every shot, splinters of wood flew in every direction and the smell of singed lumber made its way through the cabin. Panels on the floor, walls, and ceiling disappeared into ash or were burnt black. Through it all, Vere heard Fastolf yelling "Shapeshifters!" over and over and wondered how many more times he would say it before he just shut up.

A thought struck her then and she signaled for Morgan and Traskk to pause in their shooting.

"Fastolf?" she called once there was calm.

One of the sets of laser blasts from upstairs paused, then she heard her friend say, "Vere?"

"Where are you?"

"Upstairs. Where are you?"

"Downstairs."

"Where's Baldwin?"

The second source of blaster shots also paused, then Baldwin yelled out, "Upstairs too. Down the hall from Fastolf."

With none of the blasters sending streaks of laser back or forth any more, Vere leaned over and looked directly up at one of the holes where she had been returning fire. Baldwin was there, his back pressed against the wall, with no place to retreat if she had fired a little further to the right. When he saw her, his shoulders collapsed in relief and he dropped his blaster.

Morgan took a couple steps in the opposite direction, looked up, and said to Fastolf, "You're lucky I didn't shoot your fat ass."

Fastolf yelled, "I didn't do anything to get in trouble, I swear!"

Traskk sniffed the air, then growled. Before he could do anything else, one of the hostesses jumped on his back and tried to bite down on the closest part of him. In a flash, before her teeth could make contact with his leathery skin, Traskk's tail smacked her all the way across to the far side of the great room. Before hitting the wall, though, she changed shapes and dissolved into the wood panels.

Just as quickly, another of the Sirens fell from above, the form of a thin sheet sneaking through the narrow lines. As she fell from the ceiling to the floor she changed into the shape of the hostesses and she too was on top of Traskk. Vere and Morgan both held their blasters up to shoot the bounty hunter off his back but he was spinning and thrashing too quickly for them to get a clean shot.

Above them, more blaster shots came down through the ceiling and Fastolf renewed his yelling. Behind Vere, the first Siren came charging at her. She leveled her blaster at it and shot it straight through the temple. Its momentum kept it sliding toward her for a while, but by the time it came to a rest by her feet, the once beautiful hostess had turned into a blob of silvery goo.

Vere heard footsteps above her. She looked up and saw Baldwin wasn't there and guessed he was running to help Fastolf fight off the third Siren. Behind her, Morgan kept circling Traskk, trying to get a clean shot, but it didn't matter where she moved because he was jumping and thrashing all over the place. The only thing saving him from getting bitten and having his bones turn to mush was the fact that he kept throwing his hands behind him, jamming his claws under the hostess's chin to keep her venom away. When he slammed his back against the wall, the Siren gave up the form of a woman and went flat against the wall, causing Traskk to hurt only himself.

They did this deadly dance around the great room while Fastolf and Baldwin took shots at a Siren that kept falling through one part of the floor—from Vere's perspective, the ceiling—and then pulling herself back up through a different part of the floor to attack them again and again.

A pair of laser blasts landed right next to Vere and she yelled, "Hey, watch it," but neither man heard her.

Across the room, Traskk looked at her. He still had the second Siren bounty hunter on his back, his claws under her mouth, but he couldn't get the shapeshifter off him because she would change forms just long enough to free herself from his grasp. Seeing that Vere was looking back at him, he quit thrashing for just a moment. The Siren, thinking she had broken his spirit or had tired him out, gave a yell of victory and turned her mouth so she could sink her fangs into his flesh.

The Siren's victory cry came to an abrupt end when a laser blast passed straight through Traskk's hand and then into the shapeshifter's face. The bounty hunter fell off his back and immediately turned from a ravishing hostess to a silvery blob just as the other had.

Vere lowered her weapon and hoped Traskk would understand. Without the Siren on his back, the enormous reptile hissed in anger as he used his good hand to hold the injured one. Morgan and Vere could both see a hole the size of a human eye going straight through Traskk's palm.

He looked down at the remains of the dead siren and growled. Knowing enough to stay away from the silver goo but also needing to get his anger out, he slammed his tail against every wall and piece of furniture within reach until there were huge gaps of the structure where open air came into the cabin and no chairs or tables remained in one piece. Morgan and Vere waited while he got it out of his system.

When he finished, Vere said, "I'm sorry."

Traskk lumbered over to her, patted her on the shoulder with his uninjured hand and gave a gentle purr.

Morgan looked at the reptile's hand and saw the hole was no longer there. In its place was flesh that was brighter than the rest of his skin.

"He regenerates," Vere told her.

"Apparently so."

They heard footsteps from above, then saw Fastolf and Baldwin walking down the few steps that still remained.

"Is it clear down here?" they asked in unison.

Vere nodded and said, "How about up there?"

"Got one," Fastolf said.

Morgan looked at a device on her wrist. "Well, there goes our chance for a rest. It's time to get going again."

Outside, Pistol was frozen in place, standing upright, as if in an android version of sleep. As soon as they exited the inn and began crossing the moat to join him, a circle of light illuminated around both irises and he turned his head toward them.

"There are eighteen more hours," he said. "And a twelve percent chance we arrive there by the deadline."

"I know, I know," Vere said. "We're going."

Without looking back at the inn and the collection of dead aliens inside, the group walked toward the forest's edge to where the fields of Aromath began.

Traskk, by Leila ElManfaa, digital art
59

All around the CamaLon spaceport, pilots of every species congregated around their ships, trying to figure out what they should do. Their homes were on Edsall Dark. Their families were also there. But word was spreading that the Vonnegan fleet was on the other side of the portal, waiting to come through.

"Why don't they just turn the damned thing off and keep the fleet from coming through?"

"Beats me."

On a dare, one of the pilots had gone through the portal. That was ten hours earlier. He hadn't returned. Although no one knew for sure, everyone suspected a Vonnegan coat of arms was probably glowing in space to indicate where they had destroyed yet another ship. No one else was willing to go through the portal to verify this, though.

That caused yet another problem. If the pilots did decide to have their families board their ships and leave, where would they go? The closest portal had an entire fleet of Athens Destroyers on the other side of it. As far as any of the commercial pilots could tell, the CasterLan fleet of Solar Carriers wasn't doing anything in response. That meant that traveling out into space would be riskier than normal. Any ship leaving the relative safety of Edsall Dark—for as long as it remained safe, anyway—would fall prey to bands of traveling pirates or mercenaries looking for ships to steal.

The dilemma led to hundreds of personal vessels remaining at the spaceport, no one sure of what to do or where to go in order to be safe. The one thing everyone was sure about: don't go through the portal if you want to live.

60

They walked through the last of the forest and entered open fields for as far as they could see. In front of them, the sun was coming up, bathing everything in a golden light. Somewhere over the rolling hills were CamaLon's spaceports, commercial district, and Vere's father. Even though all of those things were out there, the group paused at the forest's clearing.

"Nowhere to take cover if more bounty hunters try to get us," Vere said.

Morgan nodded. "When they try to get us, not if."

"There's no other way?" Fastolf asked. He turned away from Morgan when he took a sip from his flask, but also refrained from offering any to Vere.

Pistol's eyes lit up. "The next best route would take us an additional four days and five hours of walking."

"You could have just said no."

The android added, "As it stands, there is now an eight percent chance we arrive before the Vonnegan fleet."

"We really don't have any other options?" Baldwin said, looking out at the expanse of open fields where they would be easy targets for hours and hours.

"I'm afraid not," Morgan said.

Without another word, Vere began walking. The others, even Traskk, gave each other shrugs, then followed.

"I used to walk in these fields every day when I was little," Vere said to no one in particular. "Not this far out, but it's all the same for miles and miles."

She looked to her left, at the fields all around her. To her right, there was more of the same. Hills and fields. Fields and hills. She smiled at the sight as if it were a long lost friend. The thought crossed her mind that for all the bad memories a place could have, it could offer just as many good memories; it was just that the bad times worked their way into her head more often than the others, making the good times easy to forget. How had she gone so long without walking in these lovely wheat-colored fields? The tan grass flowing in the breeze. The rolling hills, one after another. It made her feel young again.

She walked in silence as the others talked to each other of what they were most looking forward to when this was all over. Baldwin said a good shower. Traskk said a good night's sleep, although no one except Fastolf and Vere understood what he had said. Fastolf, unsurprisingly, wanted a big plate of dumplings and bread. Morgan didn't have an answer.

As she walked, Vere wondered what her own answer would be. What was she looking forward to? The first thing that popped into her head were images of Occulus and A'la Dure—dear friends already departed.

The only other image that appeared was the Green Knight. Once he entered her mind, it was impossible to think of anything else. His absurd green armor. His helmet covering who or what he was. His axe and its green painted handle and green tinted blade. The next thought was only logical: a vision of the Green Knight bringing the axe down upon her neck. She imagined her head bouncing across the ground until it came to a rest on the other side of the room. There, she would look back at the rest of her body, still standing where it had been, minus the head.

Unlike the Green Knight, she wouldn't walk over to the head and place it back atop her own shoulders. She wouldn't have any other challenges to accept. After a moment, the muscles in her body would relax and the headless body would tumble to the ground, the way the knight's should have. How lucky the Green Knight was to have been able to collect himself, to have a second chance.

If Occulus were here, he would have somehow known that right now was the perfect time to ask what things Vere would have done differently in life if she too were given a second chance. When she tried to think of an answer, there were too many regrets to keep track of. She would have spent more time with her mother after she became sick. Being young and naïve, she hadn't appreciated just how fast the days went by. She would have spent less time goofing off with Galen and spent more time asking him questions. If he vanished without a word, there was obviously a whole part of his life that she had no idea about. She had thought of him as the person she knew best in the galaxy. Obviously, she had known very little. She would have reminded her father that just because her true love had left didn't mean she was some piece of the kingdom's property to be bartered with. She wouldn't have run to Folliet-Bright. She wouldn't have agreed to chop off a big green menace's head without thought to what might happen next. She might have, she could have, she should have.

Looking back on her life up until this point, her lungs burned at the idea that if she ever did earn a name it very well could be Vere the Might-Have-Been. The thought made her groan and cast her eyes downward. There were so many better ways to be remembered. Occulus had been loyal and understanding. A'la Dure had been contemplative and serene. These were the things she wanted people to remember her as. Not as a thief or a drunk. Not as someone who didn't live up to her destiny.

She was brought out of her daze by a low hum in the distance. As they listened, the humming grew louder and louder.

"Pistol, what can you tell me?"

"A modified Newleb rover, running on a single Trexel type engine."

Before she could ask if it was a ship found in her father's fleet, she saw it coming at them from the side, in line with the forest's edge rather than straight across the field from the direction of CamaLon.

"Bounty hunter," she mumbled, and then to everyone, "Find cover if you want to live!"

Except for Morgan, the group dispersed. She remained out in the open, arms folded, staring at the vessel as it raced toward them. Everyone else scrambled for a place to hide. However, there were few options for protection. Baldwin found a boulder that he curled up behind. Vere did the same. Fastolf and Traskk, much too large for any of the rocks to hide them effectively, looked at each other, then started running back into the forest, with Traskk getting there in less than a third of the time it took Fastolf.

As Vere watched from behind her rock, Morgan remained in the open, blaster in hand, refusing to move. However, she didn't shoot at the bounty hunter's ship. Probably, Vere suspected, because she knew a handheld blaster would have little or no effect on a ship of that size. Once the bounty hunter's vessel was close enough for the pilot and Morgan to see each other, the ship began firing. But instead of shooting at Morgan, it targeted the rocks where Vere was crouched. One by one, the rocks burst into sprays of tiny stone projectiles.

"Get away from the rocks," Morgan said, still standing out in the open, still wondering what she could do to hurt the ship.

"There's nowhere else to hide."

Although Morgan couldn't see him, she recognized the voice as Baldwin's.

"If you're standing behind one of those boulders when it explodes you're going to wish you'd died from a direct blast. They'll be picking rock out of your dead body for days."

Vere's head popped out from behind a stone, saw what remained of some of the other boulders, and sighed. As the bounty hunter's ship arced into a wide turn for another approach, Vere and Morgan stood side by side, waiting for it to get close enough for a lucky shot. Baldwin remained behind the rocks, either because he didn't believe standing out in the open could possibly be better than standing behind some form of cover or because he guessed the bounty hunter would take aim at Vere before anyone else.

"Any plan?" Vere said as they watched the ship race toward them, low to the ground, for its second pass.

Morgan shook her head and gave a grim smile. "I don't think there are plans for situations like this."

The ship zipped toward them across the tree line. Vere and Morgan both had their blasters pointed at it, waiting to see the pilot before they bothered wasting shots. If they got lucky, they might be able to hit a fuselage tube or a weapons system panel.

"And to think you're going to miss out on getting your head chopped off," Morgan said.

"I know, right. Hilarious."

Each part of the ship came into view as it got closer—its cockpit, the various panels that had been repaired after previous shootouts. Vere's trigger finger twitched. But before she could fire, a group of three dots flew out of the forest and landed directly in front of where the ship was flying. An explosion erupted, large enough to damage the front of the rover, forcing it to swerve upward and gain elevation. From the forest edge, Traskk hissed a cheer and showed them he only had one more ion grenade left.

Before turning back around, though, the bounty hunter's ship launched a proton missile. At first, the missile was directed away from them, racing out toward space. As it flew, it arced until it was flying in the opposite direction, racing directly for them. At the same time, the bounty hunter's ship turned in the opposite direction until it was also flying toward them again, ready to clean up anything the missile didn't destroy.

"This isn't the way I envisioned dying," Morgan said.

"How did you?"

"With a sword in my hands. Taking on an entire army by myself."

"Really?"

Morgan nodded. "That was always my fantasy growing up, anyway."

Vere shook her head in disbelief. "And you think I have issues."

Both of them leveled their blasters at the approaching ship. Before they could think about the improbability of trying to shoot the missile out of the sky or hope it somehow missed them, another projectile came racing through the air and destroyed it.

She looked up and saw a second ship approaching. It was round with a pair of wings that raced around it in circles like giant propellers.

"Pistol?" she said, then realized she hadn't seen where he had gone during the fight.

Looking around, she saw him atop a hill, only a small distance away, standing perfectly upright with his arms by his side as if he wasn't a part of the battle.

"A Corsecc Type E modified—" he started to say but she waved him off from finishing the sentence.

"I've never even heard of that type of ship," she told Morgan. "Definitely not a friend."

The two of them were sitting targets. The second bounty hunter raced past them once to verify they were the correct targets. When it did, the force of its spinning wings flung the women off their feet, sending them flying backward. Then the ship began a loop to come back around and face them. Before it could, though, the first ship fired a series of laser blasts at it. The second ship responded by releasing a series of atom mines, which were attracted to the ship and then, upon contact, dissolved small sections of it. A hail of shrapnel and burning metal fell from the sky after a mine dissolved the ship's engines. Vere and Morgan ran to a part of the field not being littered with molten metal.

A third ship appeared, smaller than the others, painted a matte black and with a tinted cockpit. In space, it would be nearly invisible. In the daylight and on the open fields it stood out like a speeding black hole, impossible to overlook. The fighter immediately began firing at the other bounty hunter, then at Morgan and Vere. Any time either ship got close enough, the two women used their blasters. Neither did any discernible damage, though.

"We aren't going to last long like this," Vere said.

"I can't argue with that." But even as she said it, Morgan refused to stop firing at the two ships each time they raced by.

At the edge of the forest, Traskk had the last grenade in hand. With a growl and a big windup, he threw it as hard as he could. The black attack ship swerved slightly downward, causing dust and debris to get kicked up all around them. The grenade sailed over the ship, missing completely and exploding near where Baldwin was hiding.

Explosions and blaster fire were going off all around them. Pistol, for all of his maddening quirks, remained on the hilltop watching the explosions without reaction and would continue to do so until given a command to do something else.

After a bounty hunter's laser zipped past his face, Pistol turned, saw yet another ship racing across the open field, and in a booming monotone, said, "M-model Llyushin fighter approaching."

Vere and Morgan both whooped a cheer, knowing any model of Llyushin was most likely someone sent by the king.

The heavy, armor-plated fighter came in low over the field. The two remaining bounty hunters were still busy firing at each other and at Vere when it appeared over the closest hilltop. Before anyone could respond, the M-model let loose a pair of ion rockets. A trail of energy vapors sailed past the two women, then arced up toward the first bounty hunter's ship. It exploded so ferociously that there was almost no debris left to fall down from the sky, not even one of its spinning wings.

The remaining ship gave a loud whine as it curved in a semicircle to face the Llyushin fighter. It was only able to fire three cannon shots, all of which were absorbed by the Llyushin's armor, before it too exploded into a ball of flames. Instead of disintegrating, this ship broke into three large pieces that each sailed off into the distance before causing minor explosions in the Forest of Tears.

The Llyushin fighter came to a stop near Vere and Morgan. The noise from its engine was deafening and made the ground shake. With the ship remaining five feet off the ground, the craft's ramp immediately descended to the ground. Traskk and Fastolf came running out of the forest. Baldwin finally climbed out from behind the rock he had been hiding behind. Pistol followed only because it was where Vere had gone.

Inside the ship, Vere and Morgan found a dark corridor and no one to greet them. They followed the short passage to the cockpit.

A lone man was there, hovering two feet above the floor. Both of his legs were gone. His hips rested on top of a disc of energy that was fastened around his waist with a harness. The man's shoulder's were twice as broad as Fastolf's belly. His arms were as thick as the base of Traskk's tail. When he heard them behind him, the disc of energy revolved slightly, causing the man to spin and face them.

"Hector," Vere said. "Thank you."

"Sir," Morgan said, looking downward in deference.

"Looked like you could use some help," the man said.

A beeping started on the controls next to him. When he leaned forward, the disc of energy underneath his hips moved him toward the displays.

"Two more ships incoming," he said. "More bounty hunters."

After a quick check to make sure everyone was aboard, he pressed a button and the ship's ramp slammed shut. As soon as it was up, he pushed forward on the throttle and the Llyushin fighter began zooming across the open field.

"Thank you," Vere said again. "We never would have gotten back to my father in time if it hadn't been for you."

"You haven't heard?" Hector said, not looking behind him. When he didn't receive an answer he added, "I'm sorry, Vere. Your father died last night."

61

"How much longer does he have to be here?" Modred said.

Behind him, the king's body lay in the same position it had been in for the weeks leading up to his death. Only now, in addition to the finely adorned sheet that covered his body, covering everything up to his neck, an abundance of flowers was also spread around him.

The king's skin had turned a grayish blue, which made him look more like an android than the former ruler of the CasterLan Kingdom. It didn't help that the surrounding flowers were every possible shade of red and orange and purple and every other color—all of which contrasted with king's lifeless, ashen skin.

"It's their custom," his mother said. "They leave deceased rulers unburied for a week as a sign of respect." She paused. "Usually, the people are free to come and pay their respects. Thousands of them line up to pay tribute to their king."

Modred shook his head in disbelief. "Can't someone at least move him out of here?"

"Out of his own chamber?"

"They aren't his chambers! He's dead!"

"Modred," Lady Percy said, walking toward him. But when her hand came within inches of caressing his cheek, he moved away from her. "Modred," she said, "what has become of you?"

"The people need a stronger ruler. Look at what their king has gotten them into. They are about to be invaded. The Vonnegan fleet can destroy this entire planet if they want to. This is not the time to mourn a dead king."

"Son," she said softly.

He turned and looked at her, locks of blond hair moving away from his eyes to reveal how much anger they contained. "The king is dead. You were married to him. And I'm your son, so I should—"

"Modred..."

"I should be leading Edsall Dark. The planet needs me. The kingdom needs me. We have to be strong."

"Modred," she said again, but her son turned his back and walked away.

62

"The king was sick for quite a while," Hector said as his ship raced across the fields of Aromath the Solemn.

"It took longer than I thought it would for me to get back here," Vere mumbled.

Morgan couldn't be certain whether Vere was referring to the bounty hunters and the Griffin Fire crashing beyond the mountains, or if she was talking about losing six years of her life in the slums of Folliet-Bright. Rather than make a snide comment in front of Hector, she remained silent.

The man piloting the ship was the only person in Morgan's life whom she considered to be a real life hero. He was also the only person Hotspur regarded as not only an equal, but—and he would never admit this—his superior in every way.

All of their lives, Hector and Hotspur had been friendly rivals, each driving the other to greater heights of military achievement. In every contest, Hotspur did well; Hector did better. At their time in the academy together, Hector had broken every physical fitness record without even attempting to do so. He was promoted to officer sooner than Hotspur. He was given command of a Solar Carrier earlier, too. After Hotspur took a Solar Carrier through the Eiji-77 Portal to defeat a group of rogue traders, Hector commanded six Solar Carriers to quash the Sai-Hoku rebellion, suffering only minor losses.

Eight years ago, however, Hector had lost both of his legs when the Solar Carrier he was commanding had come under attack at the outskirts of the Alchemite Rim—a group of three colonies rebelling against the king. It was only by luck that he had managed to live. Most of his crew hadn't been so fortunate. When he got home, rather than be fitted with bionic legs which would have been stronger and faster than even the record-setting pair he had lost, he chose to remain legless as a reminder of what war could do. Not even Hotspur, his best friend, could convince him to return to duty after that.

Instead of android legs, Hector had chosen to sit atop a gravity pod, a disc of energy that allowed him to move where he wanted. Instead of remaining in the CasterLan military, he had quit his post and refused even to take a position teaching cadets at the academy. Rather than instruct the next generation of pilots and commanders, he made it a point to tell anyone who would listen that war was never necessary. To make his point, he challenged them to look at him hovering a few feet off the ground and remember all of the men and women whose corpses were floating aimlessly in space.

At the same time Hector had turned his back on war, Hotspur had become addicted to it. For the first time in his life, he had seen what he interpreted as weakness in Hector. The man who had been better at everything had witnessed the horrors of space battle and had not only flinched, he had surrendered. The thought drove Hotspur to seek greater glory, and greater glory meant more battles, more victories, more ruthlessness.

Over time, he had become a monster. The last time Hector had seen his old friend, he recognized Hotspur's face, but everything else about him had changed. Morgan had experienced the same thing. Hotspur had gone from being her mentor to a bloodthirsty killer. Day after day, she saw his brutality increase, mostly to the enemy, but also to his own men. It had been one of the reasons she got to Folliet-Bright so quickly after the Ornewllian Compact had been attacked. There was no longer any guessing what Hotspur was capable of. If his king ordered Hotspur to lay waste to CamaLon, Morgan didn't doubt he would do it.

"Do you have a plan?" Hector asked Vere.

"What do you mean?" she said, ignoring the smug I-told-you-we-needed-a-plan look that Morgan was giving her.

"For all of these bounty hunters to be coming after you, someone must have put a significant bounty on your head. Not many people have that much money, and most who do wouldn't have an interest one way or the other if you return to Edsall Dark. Combine that with the fact that there was an order for no one to leave the protected sectors of the planet until the curfew was lifted."

"That was why no one came to rescue us?"

Hector nodded.

Morgan said, "But you did."

He turned and looked at her. When he did, he squinted ever so slightly, looking at each feature of her face. Probably, he recognized her from years earlier as one of Hotspur's former lieutenants and wondered whose side she was on now.

"I don't think anyone is going to tell me I broke their curfew," he said, his arms so big it looked like he could rip the ship's metal controls in half if he wanted.

The M-model Llyushin fighter flew in a direct line toward CamaLon and the mighty wall protecting the capital. Because they were flying over rolling hills, at times the ship was fifty feet above a valley floor, and other times no more than two or three feet above the apex of a hill. It roared over the fields, traveling hundreds of times faster than Vere and the others could have walked.

Morgan asked if they would be safe once they got back to the city.

Hector scratched at his chin, considering the question, and said, "I would think so. It's one thing for bounty hunters to try and get you out in the open. But no one in Edsall Dark, even under direct order, would let Vere fall under attack once you all get through the gates."

"Is Hotspur behind this?"

He turned and looked at Morgan. "I would like to think not," he said. "And anyway, it would make no sense if he were."

"Why not?"

"He's assembling the fleet. He's the one who will be facing the Athens Destroyers when they get here. Honestly, the ships in the CasterLan fleet are no match for what's going to be coming through that portal. He must realize that."

As if on cue, a beep sounded and a holographic display in the cockpit showed an image of the portal above Edsall Dark. The very middle of the Tevis-84 portal was black instead of blazing white. The black tip grew bigger and bigger, from something barely noticeable to taking up five percent of the portal, to ten percent, to twenty, to a third of the entire circle of energy.

"Heavens," Baldwin said, aghast.

"No," Vere groaned.

Morgan and Hector watched it in silence.

An Athens Destroyer. The first ship in the Vonnegan fleet was coming through the portal above Edsall Dark's atmosphere. As the Llyushin fighter raced across the planet, they watched in horror as the ship appeared all the way through the portal. As soon as it did, another ship began to come through. Then another.

Stating the obvious, Pistol announced they now had a zero percent chance of arriving back to CamaLon before the Vonnegan fleet arrived, which made everyone groan.

"We may still be able to arrive before actual war breaks out," the android added, trying to offer something more useful.

Everyone ignored him.

"Why isn't Hotspur attacking them?" Morgan asked.

Hector shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe he has a plan."

"Why isn't the capital deploying the air defenses?"

Again, Hector could only shake his head.

63

From the captain's deck of his Solar Carrier, Hotspur stared at the portal and at the Vonnegan ships passing through it. He should have been allowed to go and meet the Athens Destroyers away from Edsall Dark. A battle this close to their own planet was insanity. He should have followed his gut and carried out what he had known was the better plan of action rather than listening to Modred.

If anyone on the deck had said a single word at that moment, he would have killed them. He turned and looked at the officers around him, daring them to say something, but they all knew him well enough to keep silent and not even make eye contact.

Another Athens Destroyer came through the portal. Then another.

"Lieutenant, how many of our ships are ready?"

"Ready, sir?" the lieutenant said, grimacing as he spoke.

Both of Hotspur's gloved hands curled into fists. "Ready for war!"

His fists were clenched so tightly that the plating of his space armor creaked, causing the lieutenant to involuntarily flinch.

"Sir, we are under orders from Modred not to fire until he gives the command."

Some part of Hotspur had suspected this was going to be the officer's response. He had seen the same message come across the screens an hour earlier. It had made him laugh then. The absurdity of it. But now, seeing his officers actually entertain the idea of following Modred's command rather than his own made him wish he'd killed Modred in the king's chambers when he had the chance.

"Modred is not in charge of the fleet," he said. He looked around the deck for anyone to confirm or dispute this, but everyone kept their eyes down. "Is he?" he screamed.

"No, sir," most of the officers said.

"We should have met them out in open space when we had the chance." No one argued with this idea. "If we wait for the entire fleet to get through the portal, we all die." No one disputed this either. "Then why are we letting them pass through as if they were our guests?"

He slammed his fist down on the nearest control panel, breaking it off the wall and sending it across the room. Another Athens Destroyer came through the portal. And another after that.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir?"

Hotspur took two quick steps, reached out and took the man's neck within his open hand. The energy in his space armor crackled. Hotspur's back and shoulders flexed. The lieutenant's neck made a sickly crumbling noise as the bones were pulverized.

Hotspur held the dead lieutenant in place, still on his feet, until a pair of bots came and took the body away.

At least now it made sense why CamaLon's air defense system wasn't being used. Modred had told the command room to wait until he gave the order. Maybe he would give the command and maybe he wouldn't. If he did, though, Hotspur knew one thing: it would be too late by then.

"Commander Dire?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Ready the cannons."

"Yes, sir."

"And Commander?" he said, looking at yet another Athens Destroyer appearing from the portal.

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell all of our ships to do the same. If any of them sends back a communication saying they are waiting for Modred to give the orders, tell them I will personally set this ship's cannons to begin firing at them rather than the Vonnegan fleet. I'll kill them all before any Athens Destroyer ever gets the chance. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

64

"Five minutes until we arrive," Hector said.

As the Llyushin fighter continued to speed across Edsall Dark's terrain, Pistol said, "There is still a twelve percent chance we arrive before war breaks out."

"What happened to your earlier number?" Fastolf taunted from just outside the cockpit where the others were assembled.

"Circumstances change."

"Maybe you should keep your stupid opinions to yourself."

The android didn't acknowledge this comment.

"I don't want to hurt your android feelings," Morgan called from the cockpit, "and I hate to agree with the portly thief, but if you haven't noticed there are already Vonnegan ships coming through the portal."

Pistol's eyes glowed as an endless series of computations were processed. "The first shot has not been fired," he said. "There is still a chance to prevent the war."

Above them, another Athens Destroyer appeared through the portal.

Baldwin shook his head. "Some chance."

Traskk's tail moved back and forth in anticipation of everything that might happen once they got off the ship. The claws on both of his feet tapped the metal floor, clacking over and over.

"I wish Occulus and A'la Dure were here," Fastolf said.

This made the reptile offer a sad hiss.

"Brace yourselves," a voice said over the intercom. The ship immediately shook and creaked, the sounds of explosions going off all around them.

Only feet away, in the cockpit, Morgan had taken a seat next to where Hector's chair would have been if he used one.

"Two more ships," she told Vere. "Both are small Fire-Brand fighters."

The two ships were identical. Both curved upward and outward, making it look as if three waves of water had been frozen in place before being attached all around the cockpit.

Hector nodded and shifted the ship's controls slightly, choosing to slow the vessel down rather than attempt to outmaneuver the laser blasts that would be incoming. Neither woman questioned him, knowing he had been in and won more battles than they would ever wish upon their worst enemies.

The pair of bounty hunters moved into attack position, behind and slightly above Hector's ship. Seeing them in place, he throttled the ship again, giving them a chance to remain in targeting position a little while longer. A series of laser blasts hit the backside of the Llyushin but were absorbed by its armor. In response, Hector released a pair of gravity mines, waited two seconds, then fired a single proton torpedo. If anyone else were trying to return fire in that fashion, Morgan would have told them there was no way either weapon would have a chance to work. The gravity mine needed an open area to be effective. The proton torpedo's guidance would be affected by the pull of the gravity mines. But then, on the monitors in front of the cockpit, Hector reaffirmed that he knew exactly what he was doing. The gravity mines engaged. A shockwave of energy rushed away from the mine's black middle. Instead of pulling themselves toward the nearest bounty hunter's ship, the two mines pulled the proton torpedo off its original course and into an unnatural ninety-degree turn. A split second later the torpedo hit one of the Fire-Brand fighters. The ship continued on in the same path as the Llyushin fighter, but it trailed a stream of flames and smoke behind it as it did so. At the same time, it kept losing altitude until finally hitting the ground and erupting into a ball of fire.

Without acknowledging the first victory, Hector tapped a series of buttons and a new holographic radar map popped up in front of his face.

"Three minutes to home," he said.

The second bounty hunter came in from behind and fired a series of cannon blasts at the Llyushin's engines. Hector's giant arms flexed as he pulled the controls left then right, maneuvering his ship away from their ultimate destination just long enough to turn and face the bounty hunter. The two ships exchanged fire, but whereas the bounty hunter's blasts did little damage to the heavily plated Llyushin, Hector's shots tore the bounty hunter's ship to pieces.

Without pausing, he resumed course and began once again flying toward the capital.

Above them, at the Tevis-84 portal, another Athens Destroyer appeared. Then another.

Pistol announced that they had a slightly higher likelihood of arriving before war broke out.

A moment later, the line of Solar Carriers arranged near the Tevis-84 portal opened fire on the ships in the Vonnegan fleet that had already come through the portal. Streaks of yellow and white light erupted from the sides of every Solar Carrier as their laser cannons sent barrage after barrage of shots toward the Athens Destroyers.

A display popped up near Fastolf and the others, allowing them to see what was happening. One of the Athens Destroyers had lost power and was drifting aimlessly through space. Another suffered catastrophic damage to its hull, triggering a chain reaction of detonations that made the ship explode from within.

"What did I tell that dumb android about his stupid percentages?" Fastolf cried.

With one of their ships already disabled and one drifting away in pieces, the rest of the Athens Destroyers that had already come through the portal returned fire at the Solar Carriers. The entire sky above Edsall Dark was a network of crisscrossing laser fire. If the sun hadn't already risen, the continuous streams of lasers above the planet would have illuminated the sky just the same.

If anyone other than Pistol had said the words that followed they would have been slapped and told to shut up, but when Pistol announced it, it was taken for granted.

"There is now a zero percent chance of arriving before the war starts."

65

"On my mark... fire!" Hotspur screamed, watching a third Athens Destroyer go from a functioning ship to a ghost vessel carrying hundreds of soldiers who didn't realize they were already dead.

As he watched, Vonnegan troops began disembarking from one of the annihilated Athens Destroyers. Each Vonnegan fighter was encased in a suit of space armor similar to the one Hotspur wore. Each Vonnegan drifted into the void of space with the hopes of either making it to the next closest Destroyer or else having a smaller Vonnegan ship come by and pick them up. If neither of those things happened, their air supply would eventually run out as they wandered aimlessly away into infinite space. In that case, they would die all the same.

Hotspur watched them with amusement. The battle was over for them already, and yet the leader of the CasterLan forces was only getting started.

"On my mark... fire!" he screamed again and again.

But even as his ships unloaded their laser cannons upon the Athens Destroyers, more and more Vonnegan ships came through the portal.

"When we get back to the planet," he announced to everyone on his deck, "I am personally killing the man who left the portal open."

In the time it took to destroy the first two ships, four more Destroyers had appeared. In the time it took to destroy the third ship, five additional vessels in the Vonnegan fleet had come through the portal. In a matter of minutes, they would be outnumbered.

Already, the CasterLan fleet was sustaining heavy losses as the cannon blasts were being returned. Hotspur saw the Solar Carrier next to him become pock-marked with black dots of sizzling energy where laser fire had first burned away any existing armor plating. After three or four more hits, the lasers penetrated further into the ship's core until no amount of containment precautions could keep the crew alive. At that point, only the crew members who had been wearing their space armor would survive when the Solar Carrier lost pressure. Even those who survived the lack of oxygen, kept alive by their armored suits, would die if the ship exploded before they could get out into open space or if they were hit by shrapnel that damaged their suits in any way.

A line of three more Athens Destroyers came through the portal.

Hotspur pointed to a ship on the other side of the battlefront. "Shift all cannon fire to the Destroyer in the middle of their fleet. Let the devils roar." Then, yelling again, "On my mark... fire!"

66

Vere's mouth hung open as she looked up at the sky. Ships from both her father's fleet and the Vonnegan fleet were unleashing their entire arsenals at each other. As she watched, a Solar Carrier got hit with so many blasts that it broke into two evenly sized pieces, both of which began erupting in a series of explosions that reduced the vessel to nothing but twisted metal.

There were too many laser cannons being fired for her eyes to be able to distinguish each one. Flashes of light erupted all over the sky, fired back and forth between the two sides, the light lingering in a haze of smoke. Next to her, Morgan was shaking her head as she stared at the madness. Only Hector, who had seen enough war for ten lifetimes and never wanted to see it again, ignored the chaos above them as his ship raced toward the capital wall.

Seeing her old home approach, Vere thought of A'la Dure's last words—her only words—and sighed.

Be better.

She had promised A'la Dure that she would be. The opportunity to save the planet, her father's kingdom, was now gone, though. There was no chance of figuring out why her father had ordered the attack. She hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye to him before he died, let alone to find out what had driven him to order an attack in Vonnegan space. There was also no chance of preventing war. Above them, dozens of people were dying with each cannon blast. Hundreds were dying with each exploding vessel. She dreaded the thought of A'la Dure still being here, casting one of her silent looks that had more impact behind it than nearly anything she could have said.

Be better.

In front of her. Above her. Everywhere she looked, there was proof that she had failed in being the person her friend had thought her capable of being.

Be better.

She had wanted to be. She had hoped to be. She would have liked to come back to Edsall Dark and show A'la Dure and Occulus that she could do more than drink and thieve. After all, she hadn't just promised one person that she would live a better life, she had promised two. Occulus' final words were also sounding in her head.

There is a Green Chapel. You spent much of your childhood there.

No matter how many times she replayed the words, she knew he had to be wrong. There was no Green Chapel. If there were, if she had spent her childhood there, she would remember it.

Hector's ship was close enough to the wall that she could make out the lines of mortar that held it together. She was within sight of all the places she had been within walking distance of when she was a child. The hidden creek. The wishing pond. The cave that she and Galen had explored so often. They were all—

A bolt of awareness went off in her head.

There is a Green Chapel. You spent much of your childhood there.

"Stop the ship."

Hector looked over at her, but said nothing. The Llyushin continued to race ahead.

Morgan told her they were almost there.

"Stop the ship," Vere said again, already packing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

This time Hector did as he was told and brought the Llyushin to a halt.

"I don't know if you realize it," Morgan told her, "but there's a war starting up there."

Above them, in front of the portal, two fleets of ships were in such close proximity to one another that every single cannon blast hit its mark. The two sides were tearing each other apart. While death and destruction reigned, even more Vonnegan ships continued to appear through the portal.

"I know," Vere said. "But I gave my word."

"What are you talking about?" Morgan yelled, but Vere was already turning to leave the cockpit.

When she grabbed Vere by the arm, she expected to see a fist coming at her face, but instead Vere only offered a sad smile, as if she were going to executioner's row, then walked to the storage bay, where Fastolf, Traskk, Pistol, and Baldwin were sitting.

"Hector."

A voice came over the intercom: "Yes, Vere."

"Lower the ramp."

The Llyushin fighter's back ramp lowered to the ground. Vere turned to Fastolf and Traskk to explain but the reptile took hold of her with his giant Basilisk hands and wouldn't let her go.

"I know, Traskk. I know." She put her arms around him and hugged him, feeling the hard scales of his skin through his vest.

"What're you doing?" Fastolf said.

"This is where I get off." And then, feeling that Traskk wasn't letting go of her, added, "Alone."

Fastolf held his flask out to her but she waved it away. Instead, he took a sip on her behalf.

"Hector."

The voice sounded from the speaker again: "Yes, Vere."

"I'm getting off here. Please take everyone else to CamaLon as you had originally planned."

"Yes, Vere."

"What are we supposed to do?" Fastolf asked.

Morgan was standing behind her, listening to everything that was said.

Vere gently removed herself from Traskk's arms, then said to Morgan, "You'll have a better plan than I would have anyway. I don't know how to stop wars. My father is already dead. All I can do now is follow through to the person I gave my word to."

"And who's that?" Fastolf asked.

"The Green Knight."

Traskk roared in disapproval and bared his fangs.

Fastolf shook his head and said, "You'd come all this way just to knowingly get your head chopped off?"

"I gave my word."

Baldwin shook his head in disbelief. "We walked through a mountain range. We fought off bounty hunters. I can't even count how many times we almost died."

"I gave my word," she said again. "If I don't have that, what else do I have?"

"You'd still have your head," Fastolf said, sitting down on the floor of the cramped storage bay and taking a drink. Above him, Traskk was still baring his fangs and whipping his tail so that it banged against either side of the doorway he was standing in.

Vere turned to Morgan and said, "Lead them. They'll follow you." Then she turned and began down the ramp.

"Vere," Morgan said. When the other woman stopped and turned around, she added, "Occulus would be proud of you."

In response, Vere simply turned away and continued down toward the ground.

After she was off the ship, the Llyushin's ramp raised and the ship began flying toward the capital wall once again.

"Okay," Vere said, all alone in the field, then began walking toward the cave she knew was nearby, the cave she had spent so many days of her childhood exploring.

67

"What are they doing?" Modred yelled in the control room, hundreds of stories below the king's chambers on the ground level of CamaLon.

Seeing the battle raging above the planet, he had rushed down to find out why the two sides were destroying each other.

A young man with freshly cut hair and perfect posture turned from the table where he sent and received communication updates. "The Solar Carriers have engaged the Athens Destroyers in—"

"I know what they're doing, you buffoon," Modred screamed. If it were someone smaller, a little less athletic looking, he would have smacked the man across the face. "Why are they firing?"

"Hotspur issued the command to begin firing before all of the enemy ships got through the portal and into formation."

"I ordered them not to engage! Not now, not later. Not ever!"

The young man turned and looked up from his display screen again to assess the king's stepson.

To save face, Modred added, "Diplomacy was the answer, not proton missions and cannons."

The officer accepted this and said, "Hotspur sent a communication saying that if you had a problem with his strategy, you were more than welcome to take a personal transport up to his ship and talk to him about it."

"But he's in the middle of the battle!"

"Yes, he is."

The young man turned back to the incoming communications, collecting them from every part of the capital and then sending them out to those who could use the information.

Modred stood there for a moment, speechless. Then, realizing there was nothing else he could say or do, he stormed out of the room.

68

As Vere walked toward the cave, the battle raged in the space above Edsall Dark's atmosphere. No bounty hunter dared come through the portal to look for her now. Every once in a while, a giant ship erupted into another explosion, the size and color depending on whether the explosion had started in the ship's ammunition rooms, oxygen tanks, or engines. There was no way Vere would be able to see single-man fighters in the space above her planet without binoculars, but the giant vessels were so large that they could easily be seen with the naked eye.

An Athens Destroyer disappeared behind a wave of blue and purple explosions. A second later, the eruption over, its aft end crumbled into a thousand pieces. A Solar Carrier's forward command deck became engulfed in explosions the same color as Edsall Dark's larger sun. Although it remained in one piece, after the explosion it drifted downward, away from the battle, without firing any more cannons. A couple minutes later, the crippled Solar Carrier drifted too close to the planet's gravitational force and parts of the ship began streaking through the sky as fiery comets. Some parts of the ship burned up as they entered the atmosphere. Others trailed streaks of orange light behind them as they made impact on random parts of the planet.

And still, the Athens Destroyers were appearing through the portal. What had at first looked like an unfair fight for the few Vonnegan ships appearing through the portal now looked like an unbalanced contest for the other side, with CasterLan ships outnumbered two to one, and more Vonnegan vessels appearing every minute.

And yet Vere ignored the battle, hoping Morgan and the others could make some sort of difference. She knew that her own path lay not in fighting someone else's battle, but in following through with her own word.

In destinies sad or merry, true men can but try.

It was something her father had told her over and over again when she was young. She had always wondered why, as he sat at the edge of her bed, telling her how much he loved her, he had always said true men and not true women or even true people or even true life everywhere in the galaxy. Her own father's words seemed not to apply to her.

"It's just what he likes to say," her mother had told her. "He doesn't actually mean men, he means anyone. He means you." Her mother had smiled then and tapped Vere on her little nose.

"Then why doesn't he say me?"

The answers had varied depending on Vere's age. One time, her mother had said it was because the king was merely repeating the phrase as his own father had said it to him. Another time, the answer had been that Vere's father was too practical; to him, men meant everyone.

She knew her father hadn't meant anything by it, but each time he recited the saying, the words had instilled in her a fire to want to beat any man at everything, to show them they had no idea what willpower really was. She would rob and steal better than them if that was the game they played. She would outdrink them. She would even kill better than them. Anything.

In the distance, she saw where the land rolled into more severe dips and climbs and knew behind one of the hills there would be rocks and a cave leading deep into the planet.

As she got closer, the familiar sights and sounds came rushing back to her. There was the gradual change from grass to pebbles and then to larger rocks. There was the cave and the hill it was under. Most of the day, the hill blocked out the sun, casting long shadows over the land and ensuring the cave was cast into darkness. There was the sound of dripping water from where the moisture collected on rocks, trickling down into puddles everywhere she stepped. Cold air rushed out of the cave. A tiny stream flowed, beside the cave, from where water collected somewhere underground.

When she was little, the rocks surrounding the cave had seemed like steep cliffs rising high above her and Galen. They had climbed up and down every possible route, daring each other to look down at the ground so far below them. One slip would have meant falling to a certain death. Or so it had seemed as child. She saw now that the same entrance to the cave had no cliffs at all, no life-threatening distance to fall. The same rocks that had scared and thrilled her as a child now looked like nothing more than the entrance to a cave. The highest she and Galen could have climbed was roughly ten feet. So exciting and scary when she was young. So ordinary and unremarkable now that she was an adult. Such was the way of everything in life.

Only a short distance away, the cave and its opening began to appear at the side of the rolling hills. It was one of the reasons she had liked this cave so much, because it seemed like a secret that only she and Galen knew about. Another step and the soles of her feet went from coarse grass to old craggy rock.

Inside the cave, green moss covered every inch of the walls and ceiling. This had to be it. This had to be the place that the knight referred to as the Green Chapel. Edsall Dark's grass was tan. Its forests were orange and red. Only this cave was green. She had no idea how the Green Knight knew about this place, where he had come from, or who he was. The one thing she was certain of was that this had to be the place.

Without waiting, without calling out to see if anyone was inside, she entered the cave, into the darkness. Rocks ground together under her feet. One skipped across the cave floor when her toe poked it. In the darkness, it clattered against other stones, causing a raucous series of echoes.

One hundred feet into the cave, the last bit of sunlight disappeared and she had to pull her blaster from its holster and let its ion cell illuminate the way for her. After it began to glow, she continued forward, down into the depths. Water dripped. Pebbles scuffed. A slight howl of frigid air rushed toward her, numbing her cheeks.

The next thing she saw was the tip of a blade—the Green Knight's axe. As broad a blade as she had remembered. As sharp as ever. And still green. Because of the way it shimmered in the light offered by her blaster, she saw it before she saw the Green Knight. The Green Knight took a step forward, and then he too came into sight. In the dim light, his armor and cape seemed the darkest possible shade of green rather than the brilliant emerald color they had been in Eastcheap.

"It seems your word holds good," the Green Knight said, his face hidden behind his helmet. When he spoke, his voiced boomed through the caverns, echoing like thunder.

He began moving toward her then, and all she could do was stand there and hope it all ended quickly.

The Green Knight, by Charlie Gallagher and Edward Gallagher, Ink and Digital
69

Hector navigated around the far side of the capital's walls to the docking stations, where he parked his modified Llyushin fighter. Everyone was finally standing inside the capital they had been trying for so long to reach. That was, everyone except Occulus and A'la Dure and, most importantly, Vere.

"What do we do now?" Baldwin said, but Hector was already leading the way—Morgan one step behind him and Traskk right behind her.

Pistol, having to choose between following them or sticking behind with Fastolf and Baldwin, began a quick pace to catch up. The remaining two men exchanged looks, shrugged, and followed as well. They entered into the massive structure of tunnels and hallways that connected every part of CamaLon to every other part. The space ports, the commercial district, the king's chambers—all of it was accessible through the city center. A section of closed-in tunnels would open and give way to a view of the sky above. After another turn, the tunnel began again and any view of the sky was obstructed by metal walkways and ceilings.

Morgan had never seen the capital so quiet. Every walkway, normally bustling with activity, was empty of humans and aliens alike. She assumed this was because they were all taking cover in case the Vonnegan fleet destroyed Hotspur's ships and descended into the streets to slaughter everyone on ground level.

"Where are we going?" Fastolf said, doing his best to keep up with everyone.

"We have to get to the control room and see why they haven't activated the ground defenses," Morgan said. "At least then Hotspur will have a chance."

Breathing heavily, Baldwin said, "I thought we were trying to prevent the war, not make it worse."

Morgan stopped walking and took his chin in her hand and moved his face up toward the sky. "Look above you. The time for preventing war is over."

Hector's jaw twitched. His shoulders flexed. Without slowing down or turning, he called behind him, "You can't make war worse than it already is. There are not degrees of making such a thing as war more or less severe."

No one in their group could dispute that any talk of preventing deaths or even minimizing them was wasted effort by now.

For as many explosions and cannons that were going off in the space above the planet, it seemed as though Morgan and the others should hear deafening blasts as they raced through the kingdom. Every exploding ship, though, along with every detonated electron missile, only resulted in flashes of light with no noise to accompany it.

Hector's energy platform kept him hovering at waist height toward the room they needed to get to. Morgan, Pistol, and Traskk were jogging to keep up. Baldwin and Fastolf began to lag behind.

They passed through a series of metal corridors that twisted left, then right, then left. Around the next turn, the ceiling opened to a view of the sky and the flagships above the planet.

"We're here," Hector said, his hover platform slowing down.

He pressed a button and a steel door raised, allowing the group into a small walkway. At the end, two CasterLan guards stood at attention, charged with deciding who would be allowed into the control room and who would not.

"We need to get in," Morgan said.

The guards' helmets turned toward Hector, whom they surely recognized and adored, then to Traskk, whom they surely feared.

"I'm sorry," one of the guards said. "We are under strict orders not to let anyone through."

"Vere CasterLan sent us," Morgan said. "You will move or be removed."

The guards turned toward each other, then seemed to deflate. Silently, both men moved aside.

"See? That wasn't so tough," Morgan said.

A blaster sounded. Traskk roared. Turning, they saw a pair of CasterLan soldiers with their blasters raised. A laser shot had hit the base of Traskk's tail, making the entire area smell like burning flesh. Neither man had a chance to get a second shot off before Traskk's tail threw them into the nearest wall. They were unconscious after slamming against the metal panels, but Traskk continued roaring and baring his teeth.

He would have done worse, too, if it hadn't been for Morgan's hand on his shoulder.

"Later. Right now, we have to get in there."

The two guards who had decided to step aside saw what the Basilisk had done to the two other men and knew now they had made the right choice.

Hector's hover platform moved him to the metal door they had been guarding. He punched in a number but nothing happened. He tried another number, but again, no result.

"The access codes have been changed," he said.

Morgan asked the two guards if they knew the code but both men shrugged.

Fastolf raised his blaster. Morgan started to yell something, but before she could, a single streak of blaster fire erupted from his weapon and hit the access panel, bouncing off and zipping just past Morgan's face.

She turned and gave him the same look she had given him at Eastcheap before she had bludgeoned his face and nearly ripped his ear off. Without even realizing he was doing so, he backed away with his palms out, apologizing over and over.

"The door is blaster-proof," Hector said.

"I see that," Fastolf said, still backing away from Morgan even though a Basilisk and one of Edsall Dark's greatest warriors were in between them.

"We need to find a way in," Morgan said. "Hotspur won't last another hour if we don't give him some support."

Hector, always looking for an alternative to more war and destruction, said, "We need to turn off the portal."

The two of them spoke while everyone else waited to be told what to do. Morgan asked if there was a way to shut the portal down remotely.

"I have no idea. I've only ever heard of it being done from the substation on the side of the portal."

They all looked up at the Tevis-84 portal and at the Athens Destroyers that were still coming through it. If what Hector was saying were true, someone would have to get to the portal and enter the one cylinder out of the three hundred and sixty that acted as the portal's control room. It was the only way to keep more Vonnegan ships from coming through.

It was a misnomer that a portal could be "turned off," but everyone knew what that meant. Once a portal was ignited and the galactic energy harnessed within the metal ring of cylinders, nothing could turn it back off. What could be done, though, was to reroute the portal, linking it to another portal somewhere else in the galaxy. If the setting were changed, the Vonnegan ships would stop appearing above Edsall Dark after passing through the Tevis-84 portal and would instead begin appearing wherever the portal's coordinates had been set.

Morgan looked at the group, then back at Hector. "If there was a way to do it from inside the capital, where would the controls be?"

"Maybe up in the top echelon of the city center," he said. "Near the king's chambers. It would need to be in a secure location where only the king's most trusted advisors would have access to it."

"I'll take Traskk and find a way into this room so we can get the defenses going. You take Pistol and see if you can find a way to turn off the portal."

Then, realizing she had given orders to someone who was not only her idol but who had vastly outranked her, she blushed.

"It's fine," Hector said, his energy platform already spinning him around. "Hotspur taught you well."

Then, without giving her time to accept the compliment, he flew down the corridor and disappeared, the android racing after him.

Fastolf cried, "What about me?"

Morgan turned and looked at the man who had just nearly shot her face off with a blaster and cringed. "I guess you're with us. But if you fire that thing near me again, it'll be the last thing you do."

70

The Green Knight was within arm's reach of her. He stood with his axe in hand, staring with eyes that must surely be there but that Vere still couldn't see. A cold breeze of air rushed past the knight, as if escaping his clutches.

"Are you prepared for the business between us?" the Green Knight said, gripping and regripping his axe so the blade spun in slow circles. "Seven days ago you took what was yours. Now you must yield the same."

"You really like to hear yourself talk, don't you?" Vere said, staring into the empty black void of the knight's helmet. "I guess this is it, huh? The day of doom? Fine, get it over with."

The Green Knight's voice boomed: "Your word holds good!"

She looked for the nearest large rock and bent so her head rested against it, her neck exposed. "Whatever. Just do this."

"You make no more demur than I did," the knight said, "when you hacked off my head with one blow."

"Just do it," Vere growled. "Just shut up and do it."

"You will not beg for your life?"

Vere turned toward the Green Knight, feigned a cheerful face, then turned back to the stone that her head was resting on.

"Brave," the Green Knight said.

"Trust me, your praise would mean more to someone else."

Behind her, she could hear the Green Knight's grip tightening on the axe, heard his armor rustle as he heaved the weapon over his head.

Then, nothing.

Only when she turned her head slightly to look at the Green Knight did he begin to bring the axe down. Immediately, Vere pulled away from the stone, and the Green Knight's axe paused in midair. Cursing herself under her breath, she forced her head back down on the stone.

"I moved not a muscle when you struck," the Green Knight bellowed.

"I'm sorry," Vere said. "I didn't want to. Do it again. I won't move." She hated herself for being in this situation. For taking the knight up on his challenge without thinking of what it might entail. For spending six years in that dingy bar in the first place. "Just get on with it!" And then, more calmly, "I'll honor my word."

The axe creaked as its owner gripped the handle with all of his strength. And then she heard the Green Knight wind up once more. This time, Vere didn't bother glancing up to see when the axe would hit its mark. And still the Green Knight didn't bring the axe down.

"Damn you, just do it! I'm tired of your game."

"Hmm," the Green Knight said.

And this time, he did bring the axe down. When he did, most of the blade hit stone, impacting with so much force that it cracked the boulder in half and sparks momentarily lit up the dark cave. A bang, louder than any explosion she had ever heard, sounded next to her ear where the blade hit rock. The echo repeated over and over throughout the Green Chapel. The pain was worse in her ears than in her neck, which was bleeding. Feeling her skin, she noticed that only a corner of the blade had brushed against her neck, slicing a small cut across the skin.

Slowly, Vere pushed herself off the crumbled rock and stood upright.

"Is that it?" she asked, not taunting, but unsure of what had really happened.

"One strike acquits you," the Green Knight said. "You have paid what you owed." The knight pointed at her throat where the blood was coming out. "A mark has been earned. Do not forget it."

The knight let his axe hang by his side. Then, when the blade was resting against the ground, he propped his elbow against the other end of the weapon.

"I'm really free to go?" Vere said, not bothering to press her hand against her neck and stop the trickle of blood.

The Green Knight took a step backward, blending into the shadows and darkness of the cave. When Vere blinked, she couldn't be sure which parts were the knight and which parts were the rocks behind him.

Further back in the cave, from the pitch black void she had explored so many years earlier, a voice said, "It's a large galaxy, but not so large that your actions don't impact those all around you."

A pale hand reached out of the darkness and touched a section of the Green Knight's axe. The voice sounded familiar. Vere's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to remember where she had heard it last. Then all of the blood rushed to her cheeks and burned her face.

"Galen?"

71

Morgan, Traskk, Baldwin, and Fastolf ran through a series of corridors until they got to the alternate control room access door. There were two guards there as well. Either because Hector was no longer with them or because Morgan was in too much of a hurry to explain, these guards were not willing to step aside from their post. Within moments, however, both were unconscious on the ground after Traskk got through with them.

The secondary door also had new access codes. After telling Fastolf he better not do anything stupid, Morgan confirmed these doors were also blaster-proof.

After that, they took a lift to the next level, searched for the ventilation system that might lead to the control room, but all of the access points were in rooms that were also locked and protected by blast panels.

"We're getting nowhere real quick," Morgan said, slamming a fist against a wall.

Above her, a holographic monitor showed one of the CasterLan Solar Carriers being peppered with cannon fire until it broke into dozens of pieces. In that one instant of the battle, she knew that hundreds more people had just died. At the same time, another Athens Destroyer came through the portal.

The monitors changed views every three seconds on an automated loop. Every holographic feed of the battle showed the same thing: soldiers in space armor—from both armies—saved from the wreckage of the ships they had been on and now hoping upon hope to be rescued as they floated in space. In one instant, a laser cannon sent a blast from an Athens Destroyer. In the next instant, a dozen men in space armor were no longer there. No part of their suit remained. No part of their bodies. Every single bit of them was vaporized by a blast that hadn't even been intended for them but had been targeting a Solar Carrier.

The view changed again.

A trio of Solar Carriers was targeting a single destroyer, which was already racked with holes and structural failures. As the flagship exploded into fragments, the blasts engulfed the Vonnegan troopers who had managed to escape the vessel. The deliverance they had achieved for themselves was quickly extinguished and their destinies caught up with them once and for all.

The hologram changed views again.

"This is hopeless."

Traskk agreed with a soft growl. Baldwin closed his eyes and exhaled.

Fastolf leaned with his back against the wall and tried to take a sip from the flask he kept hidden in his pocket. Finding it empty, he tossed the intricately designed container to the ground.

"I stole that from a guy eight years ago," he said. "Pompous fool must have paid dearly for it."

For no better reason than that it was there, Fastolf withdrew his blaster and shot the flask. A line of laser fire erupted from his weapon, hitting the expensive container and deflecting into the air. He immediately cringed when he realized the exquisite object was coated in protective metal. Seeing the laser streak away, he expected Morgan to come after him with closed fists.

She stared at the singed flask, then at Fastolf's blaster, then back at the flask.

"Morgan, I'm," Fastolf started to say, but instead of killing him, she laughed and patted him on the back.

As she ran toward the primary control room door, Traskk right behind her, she yelled, "If this works, not only will I not kill you. I'll buy you a drink."

72

Vere ignored the Green Knight, who still had his back against the cave wall, and took another step into the depths of the Green Chapel.

"Galen?" she said again.

She saw an outline, only a few feet deeper into the shadows. Someone waiting in the darkness. Someone who had been there the entire time, watching the proceedings between herself and the knight. With her blaster still on the rock where she had been prepared to have her head chopped off, there wasn't enough light to make out a face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, somehow sure it was him even though she hadn't heard his voice or seen him since before leaving Edsall Dark.

"It's good to see you," he said, his voice soft and calm. "I've missed you."

"Where have you been?"

"I've been here," he said, almost in a whisper. She could hear the same amused smile in his voice that had been there every day when, as kids, they had explored this exact cave.

"That's not true. It can't be." When he didn't say anything, she added, "You would have needed food and water."

"And to think you accused your father of being too practical."

"It's not funny. You're not making any sense. People would have seen you if you'd been here."

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not. I came here six years ago. I'm here now. In between, I've seen a lot of things I never knew about. Does anything else matter?"

"What are you talking about?"

She took another step forward, within arm's reach of him. When she extended her hands, however, the happiness in his voice disappeared: "Please, don't touch me."

She stopped, cocked her head to one side, then said, "You were the one who left me. Not the other way around. I'm the one who should be mad."

She sat down beside him, the space between them big enough for another person to squeeze in between.

If she could have ignored the war that was surely still being waged above her planet, if she could have forgotten that two of her best friends were dead, she might have been able to trick herself into believing it was like old times. She was with the one person she had loved, in the one place they had explored and talked more than any other. Back then, life had seemed incredibly simple.

"Galen?"

"Yes."

"Did you send the Green Knight?"

"You know I did."

"Why?"

"I had to make sure you came back home. It was the only way I knew how."

She opened her mouth to tell him she never would have left in the first place if he hadn't chosen the Word over love. A stupid calling over everything they had! Occulus would have frowned at such a remark, though. She knew that much. Instead, she asked who he was.

Galen looked directly into her eyes. "The Green Knight, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Bertilak de Hautdesert," he said.

"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

Galen shrugged. When he saw she needed a better explanation, he said, "He fought in the Haiwan Wars."

"Those wars took place a thousand years ago."

"I know."

When she only shook her head in annoyance, he pointed to where the Green Knight was still standing. But when she turned and looked, even though he was standing closer to the cave's entrance than either Vere or Galen, and even though the ion cell from her blaster offered a modicum of light, she could barely make out the giant's form in the shadows. The harder she squinted, the more she couldn't differentiate between the Green Knight and the rock and moss. As she watched, more of the Green Knight blended in with the cave, until only his helmet and axe could be made out. A moment later, even these faded into the darkness of the cave. She closed her eyes for a moment to let them refocus, but when she looked again there was no distinction at all between the rocks and the knight. They were one and the same.

"I don't understand," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"I made a deal with Mortimous."

She cringed and looked at him with concern. "Galen, he's been dead since before we were born."

"I made a deal with him."

"You aren't making any sense. A dead magician brought a dead warrior back to life?"

She saw his eyes gleam with the same sense of wonderment he had often possessed when they were kids.

"Vere, you wouldn't believe the things I've seen."

"In the Word?" she said, bitterly.

He nodded. "Not in the Word; because of it. The Word isn't a thing, it's an idea. There is so much more to life than what we can see." He smiled. "Some beautiful things. Some things misunderstood. Some pain and suffering even. But all of it amazing in one way or another. All of it miraculous if you look at it with open eyes."

She sneered and said, "You left everyone you knew to seek some mystical nonsense rather than enjoy the life that was right in front of you?"

"No, Vere. It didn't have anything to do with that. I left because it was my calling. It was what I had to do. If I hadn't, no matter how happy I would have otherwise been, a part of me would have always known I was missing out on my destiny."

"Your destiny?" she laughed.

"Destiny. Fate. Whatever you want to call it. My higher calling."

"You were barely old enough to fly a starship. You'd never explored the galaxy. You spent every day with me in these caves. Yet, you knew your calling?"

"Yes."

He answered in the same assured and confident way he always had when they were younger. It was one of the things she had loved about him then. Now, though, it made her shoulders clench, made the blood rush to her head, made the cut on her neck sting.

"I loved you," he said. "I still do. I always will. But I knew I was too curious to be satisfied with my place in life." When she started to say something, he added, "Curious in a way that exploring caves wouldn't have satisfied. Do you remember how many times I asked my parents or your parents a question and they didn't have a good answer?"

"I remember."

And she did. Everywhere they went, Galen had asked the adults questions that he never got decent answers to. Why was the universe created? How was it created? What was his place in it? She remembered how matter-of-factly he asked the questions, thinking the adults would know everything there was to know. She remembered the way his brows furrowed each time his parents or her parents had rubbed his hair and told him to do his homework and to let the adults worry about such things.

"Well, I'm learning those answers now," he said. "I have been for the past six years. It has been extraordinary."

"Extraordinary? You haven't done anything. You've been in a cave."

"In a way, yes."

"In a way? Stop talking in riddles. You either have or you haven't."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Vere. The galaxy isn't that simple. There is more, much more, to the galaxy than you or I ever realized."

"Where are your wacko buddies in the Word? Are they getting answers too?"

"I told you: the Word isn't a thing, it's an idea. There is no organization. No one recruited me. It was just a calling. I have seen figures from a distance, some familiar, some not. I have had many long discussions with Mortimous, although I admit I always feel like I have even more questions than I started with after I've spoken with him."

"He's dead, Galen. He's been dead for a long time."

"I can assure you, I spoke with him just—" He paused, his eyes squinting in that way they always had when he was concentrating. "I'm not sure, maybe a day ago, maybe a week ago. Time doesn't seem to work for me the way it used to."

"And you made a deal with him? With a dead magician?"

Galen chuckled, ignoring her mocking tone. "He's not dead. He's not a magician, either. And," he added with a contented grin, "you need to let go of your anger. I didn't stop loving you just because there was something more I had to do with my life. I never stopped loving you. Not then, not now."

She reached her hand out to touch his knee but he shied away until she withdrew it.

"You don't understand," he said. "All I wanted was to lead a better life, to find answers to all the questions that kept me up at night so I didn't feel so lost all the time."

"Lost, like I am?"

He smiled. "You aren't lost. You're here."

"I've felt lost. I only left because—"

"Shh, you're here now."

They had spent the majority of their childhood days in this cave and the surrounding hills and tunnels. Exploring, talking, being free. She still didn't understand how he could give that up so easily.

"It wasn't easy," he said as if reading her mind. "But it was something I had to do." And then he smiled, pitifully, adding, "Like you coming here to face the Green Knight wasn't easy, but it was something you had to do."

She looked over to where the Green Knight had been. If there was any remnant of him, she couldn't see it. It was as if his body and armor had turned to moss and become part of the cave.

"I still don't know how I didn't kill him back in Eastcheap."

"You can't kill the Green Knight. You could have chopped his head off twenty times and twenty times he would have put it back atop his shoulders. Mortimous ensured as much."

"Mortimous didn't do anything. That crazy old man has been dead for decades."

There was an audible sound of amusement and satisfaction in Galen's voice when he said, "He's as dead as the Green Knight then, I guess."

"I don't understand. Mortimous claimed to be a magician, a soothsayer."

"He didn't claim to be any of that. Those were the things people called him. All he ever claimed to be was a man seeking truth in the galaxy.

"I don't understand," she said again.

"Maybe you will some day." Then, smiling, he asked, "If you could describe your life in one word, what would it be?"

"I swear, Galen, you're either doing an impersonation of a friend who's no longer alive or else you're making fun of me. But either way, that's not the type of thing I'm worried about right now."

"Oh well," he laughed and shrugged. "Maybe one day."

"Why did you bring me here? It wasn't to ask me questions."

"It's your destiny to be here," he said. "No matter how much you tried to fight it, it's your destiny to lead your father's people. The CasterLan Kingdom hasn't yet seen its greatest days."

She groaned. "Please don't start."

"You have a good heart, Vere. But all too often your deeds don't match what you're capable of. You're here now, though. That's all that matters." Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a green bracelet. "Take it."

He dangled it from his thumb and finger, letting it drop into her open palm. She held it up so the little bit of light that was available shined on it.

"I gave you this."

He nodded. "A very long time ago. I didn't stop wearing it just because I left. No amount of power or wealth, no other worldly possession, could have made me give this up." He coughed, then said, "But it's time for you to take it back."

"Why?"

"I don't need it where I'm going."

"You're leaving again?"

"In a way," he said, somehow still sounding upbeat, the persistently cheerful tone that never failed to drive her mad when she was irritable.

She tucked the green bracelet into a pouch on her vest. After a moment, a thought crossed her mind and she said, "What would have happened if I hadn't come back?"

When he didn't reply, she reached out to touch his leg. Her fingers were only an inch away when he noticed and jumped back.

"Don't touch me," he gasped.

They remained like that for a moment, Galen sitting upright again, Vere thinking about everything he had said and also all the things he hadn't said.

"Galen? What would have happened if I hadn't come back to face the Green Knight?"

His face seemed to disappear into the darkness momentarily before reappearing with his eyes fluttering from the weight of what he was going to say.

"You would have died."

"You would have let the Green Knight kill me?"

"It was part of the deal with Mortimous. Someone had to die—whoever touched the axe last. If you hadn't come back, that would have been you."

"But you already said the Green Knight can't die."

He said nothing. Nor did he move.

"Galen?"

Still, he remained silent. She replayed the Green Knight's game in her mind. He had handed her his axe in Eastcheap. She and no one else, save for the Green Knight, had touched it. Then, only moments earlier inside the cave, the Green Knight had held his weapon until the game was over. Once it had finished, he had rested on the axe... and a hand had reached out from the shadows and touched it.

"Galen?"

She leaned forward to get a look at his face and gasped. The veins were protruding from his temples and forehead as if he were holding his breath, but instead of being blue, they were green. She looked down at his hands. They were even worse.

"That's why I didn't want you to touch me," he said. "Not because," and then he trailed off.

"Why did you do this?" she said, not mad or accusing, only concerned.

"I had to get you to come back. It was the only way."

"Galen, I—"

"I don't mind," he said. "If this is part of my destiny, so be it. I did what I set out to do."

"I loved you more than anyone else in the galaxy," she said.

He smiled, but at the same time his eyes became wet and he had to blink away a tear. "I loved you more than anyone, Vere. But I didn't love you more than everyone."

"Galen, don't—"

"By doing this, by everything I've done since walking away, I've helped more people and made a greater difference than by anything else I could have done. I hope some day you can understand that."

"Galen?"

But instead of replying, he only groaned and leaned his head back against the rocks behind him. When she leaned closer, she saw the green of his veins had spread through the rest of his face and skin. His lips were green. His ears. Even his hair. He was becoming part of the Green Chapel the same way the Green Knight had.

"Tell me where Mortimous is," she said. "I'll kill him."

"Don't you realize?" Galen said, trying to smile. "He did the best thing he could have ever done." He coughed. "I got to see the only person I've ever loved before I died. He got you to return to save your people." He grinned, and a tear rolled part of the way down his face before being absorbed by the moss that covered it. "The galaxy is an incredible place when you start to see how it works."

"Galen, I don't want to lead these people. They had my father for that."

"They still have him," he said weakly. "But they need you now, too."

"My father is dead."

He tried to laugh but couldn't. Instead, the attempt looked like it caused him pain. "He's not dead, Vere."

"He is. You don't know because you've been in this cave."

"He's not dead. And his people need you. They—"

She waited for him to finish his sentence, but when he didn't say anything she leaned closer.

"No," she said, barely getting the words out. "No, no, no."

Galen's eyes were green and motionless. Already, she could see the cave reclaiming him. His back, where he rested against the cave wall, was indistinguishable from the stone. His skin glistened like the moss. His hands, sitting peacefully on his lap, looked to be made of rock rather than flesh.

There were so many more things she wanted to say. There were so many more questions she wished she could ask. Instead of saying any of it, she stood up, looked one last time at the features of Galen's face before it disappeared into the stone, then walked back toward the cave's entrance. As she did, she passed a formation of rock protruding from the cave wall exactly where the Green Knight had been.

73

"Sir?"

Modred looked at the closed door to the king's chambers and wondered if he should let the man who was standing on the other side of it inside. On his earlier trip from the chambers to the control room he had felt the eyes of everyone he passed. They hadn't been looking at him with kindness. Now, back in the chambers, he was becoming pickier and pickier about who he let into the room.

He had the sinking suspicion that if he did open the door, an ambush would ensue. Would the officer out there have brought with him a group of soldiers who were ready to slay the king's stepson? Did they blame him for the Vonnegan fleet being here?

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Sir," the private answered, "You asked me to come see you with updates."

For a moment, Modred thought about holding the conversation through the door with the private out in the common area where anyone else might be able to hear him. His left hand remained at an angle behind his back. In his hand, the king's Meursault blade. With a gulp, he pressed the entry button and the door raised to reveal the young private.

"Come in, come in," Modred said.

As soon as the private took two steps forward, the door to the chambers immediately closed again.

"What news do you have?"

The private grimaced and tugged at his collar. "Hotspur's fleet is suffering massive losses."

"I knew they would! I told him not to engage."

"He is sending communications down, asking why we aren't using the Crown to assist with the battle."

"Because I said not to! If he hadn't attacked we could have used diplomacy to settle this with the Vonnegans."

"Is that what you would like me to tell him, sir?"

"Don't get smart with me."

"I wasn't getting smart, I—"

Modred waved a hand for silence, then said, "Where is Vere CasterLan?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

He threw his hands in the air and yelled, "How can you not be sure? You lost her? Tell me you didn't lose her."

"She was not aboard Hector's ship when he arrived back at the port."

"Maybe she's dead," he mumbled, nodding his head. Then added, "Where are the others?"

"They have split into two groups. One group is outside the main control room, trying to get inside."

"They never will. It's sealed tight. It's blaster-proof."

"Yes, sir."

"And the other group?"

"The other group is heading for the upper levels of this building."

"What for?" Modred said, stepping backward and clenching his jaw.

"We think to try and find a way to shut off the portal, sir."

"Shut off the portal?" Modred erupted into a fit of boisterous laughter. "Shut off the portal?"

The private tried to smile but could only grimace in a way that made it look as though he had to relieve himself. "Sir?"

"There is no way to shut off the portal from here!" Modred howled with laughter.

The private stood there for a moment, giving Modred time to get over his fit of hysterics. When the king's stepson kept laughing, though, he backed away toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Modred said.

"I thought I would get back to my post, sir."

"In such a hurry?"

"I thought you were done with me, sir."

"Are you planning something against me?"

"What?"

"Are you?" Modred said, yelling so fiercely that spittle hit the private's face.

"No, sir, I just—"

"This would all be over if I just happened to die, right? Is that what you're thinking?"

"No, sir, I—" The private backed toward the door.

Modred let both arms return to his side. The hand that had been behind his back was now visible. But when the private looked, all he saw was a handle and crossguard. He frowned, trying to make sense of what the king's stepson might be holding. Then Modred turned his wrist and the blade came into view. A Chameleon. The Invisible Death.

"Sir, I—"

The private stepped back once more but his back was against the closed door. Modred was coming toward him with a sword that kept appearing and disappearing as the blade changed angles.

"Sir, please," the private said, but he saw in Modred's eyes that the other man wasn't listening.

Self-preservation took over and without thinking of the repercussions, an excuse, an alibi, or anything else, he raised his blaster and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Nothing happened. The private looked down at his blaster, confused.

Click.

Again, nothing happened. That was when he realized the king's chambers must be protected by a Treagon barrier and that his blaster would never work there. In the next instant, a flash of sun-colored light came sweeping at him as the blade came down.

After the private's body had crumpled to the floor, his head bouncing across the room, Modred let the sword hang by his side. Blood dripped from the invisible blade.

"Shut the portal off?" Modred said, laughing once more. "That's hilarious."

74

From underneath Hector's ship, Morgan held her hand out so Fastolf could see it. "Wrench," she commanded.

"Is there anything we can help with?" Baldwin said, looking over at Fastolf with doubt.

Morgan's voice came from under the ship: "Just stand there and look pretty." And then, "Calibration spanner."

"I already handed you one," Fastolf said.

"Another one!"

She said it in the tone that he associated with having his nose broken or his ear torn from the side of his face and he immediately thrust his hand into the bag of tools to retrieve what she had requested.

The two men stood next to Hector's ship while Morgan banged away at the Llyushin's underside. Traskk stood watch at the nearest entrance to make sure no one came to try and kill them. Finally, Morgan slid across the ground so she was out from under the ship, then reached back under and dragged out another of the ship's blast plating panels.

Leaving the tools on the ground, she took one of the panels and began jogging back toward the control room. After a few steps, she looked behind her and said, "Don't just stand there, each of you grab a panel and let's go."

She was off then, with Baldwin and Fastolf hustling as quick as they could to keep up with her.

Back at the blast-proof control room door, Morgan dropped a satchel of blasters on the ground and began sifting through them for her favorite type of weapon. Fastolf and Baldwin arrived a minute later, both out of breath, neither of them with a metal panel in their hands. She was just about to scold them when Traskk appeared, holding the entire stack of panels—a few hundred pounds' worth of blast-proof paneling from Hector's ship.

"What now?" Fastolf asked, hunched over.

"Place a sheet parallel with the control room door," Morgan said. "The door is blast-proof, but that'll only last for so long."

Baldwin looked at the panel nearest to him, then the bag of blasters. "I don't get it."

"Traskk is going to hold this panel in place. I'm going to stick a blaster through the gap and keep shooting. The blast coating will wear off after it gets shot a couple thousand times."

"A couple thousand times?" Fastolf said. "You need a drink if you think the war will still be going on by the time we get done."

"That's your entire plan?" Baldwin asked, shaking his head.

Above them, a holographic monitor outside the control room showed a pair of Solar Carriers that had been reduced to burned out hulks. Others had exploded and were nothing more than space debris. And still more Athens Destroyers were coming through the portal.

She looked at the group in front of her. A physician's assistant she had never met before they both happened to appear at Eastcheap. A fat thief she never wanted to see again. A Basilisk with a temper to match her own. Seven days earlier, she never would have guessed that these people would be all the help she would have to stop a war.

"It's the only plan we have," she said.

Traskk growled something and everyone looked at him. With Pistol and Vere gone, only Fastolf had a vague idea of what he was trying to say. He hissed a second time and held his hands up to show them.

"I think he wants to know if you're going to shoot his hands off," Fastolf said.

Almost all of Traskk would be protected by the blast panel he was holding, but his hands could still get hit, or a blast could get past him, ricochet off the wall, and hit him in the back.

Morgan smiled and said, "I guess we could let Fastolf hold it instead."

The drunken thief immediately stepped away from the rest of the group. "I don't think so."

Traskk gave a resigned hiss, his long tongue slithering in and out from between his fangs as he did so. Without another word, he picked up the first panel and moved in place.

Morgan patted him on the back and said, "Hold it still and I'll try my best. I promise."

He inched forward even more, allowing less room between the panel he was holding and the control room door.

Without another word, she began to fire.

The first shot hit the control room door, bounced off, hit the blast-proof panel of Hector's ship, ricocheted back at the control room door, over and over again. By the time she fired the second shot, the first laser streak had already bounced back and forth between the two panels a dozen times. By the time she fired the third blast, the previous two blasts had bounced back and forth more times than she could keep track of.

Over and over her finger pulled the assault blaster's trigger, causing flashes of laser fire to burst forth. Each one struck the control room door, then immediately bounced off and headed back toward her. But just as quickly, the shots hit the blast panel of Hector's ship and once again were deflected at the control room wall.

Hundreds of lines of laser fire bounced back and forth like a science fair project. Slowly, the blast coating on the control room door began to deteriorate and the laser streaks began to burn into the panels. Brown spots of tinged metal began to spread across the once mirror-like door. When the first assault blaster ran out of a charge and the lasers were all absorbed into the burning metal, Morgan tossed it aside.

"New panel," she said.

Traskk tossed the charred and smoking blast-proof panel behind him, picked up another, then aligned it in front of the control room door. Once it was in place, Morgan began firing with the fresh blaster.

After a minute, a burst of laser hit the metal panel right where Traskk was holding it, burning two clawed fingers. He knew, though, that if he dropped the atomized metal panel he and Morgan would both die from having hundreds of more laser blasts hit them, and so all he could do was roar and keep holding the panel as steady as possible.

Another blaster was empty and Morgan tossed this one aside too, then picked up yet another. At the same time, Traskk grabbed a fresh piece of blast-proof paneling.

"And you guys thought this was crazy," she said, laughing as she fired.

75

Everywhere Hector and Pistol went, they passed people who were running one way or the other. Some were in uniform, some not. Some ran with a purpose, others were simply driven by panic.

People were beginning to whisper that not only was Hotspur's fleet losing the battle, they were being slaughtered. That meant it was a matter of time until the Vonnegan ships either began firing on the city from high above the planet or deployed troops to overtake the capital. No one wanted to be around when either of those things happened.

Hector's hover platform carried him to another intersection of hallways. When he looked around he didn't see anything. Up the next hallway he began. Everywhere he went, Pistol followed.

Finally, Hector stopped and said, "Do you have any idea where a secondary control room might be? A command center? Anything?"

"I do not."

"If we get you to a terminal, can you plug into the capital's system and check where it might be?"

Pistol's face remained absolutely emotionless when he spoke. "We can try, but it is extremely unlikely that I will have access to any sensitive information."

"Any other suggestions?"

A circle of light arced around both of Pistol's irises as he processed the information. "Nothing that is likely to produce an advantageous outcome."

Hector nodded. He had been all over the city center. He had been in the main control room and knew enough to realize there were no portal controls there. He had been on almost every level of the upper tiers of the capital center, and yet he had no idea where a portal command center might be—if it even existed.

Out a window, he saw a Solar Carrier's power go out. The entire ship went dark. A moment later, it began drifting into the combat zone. It wandered, powerless, for a few seconds before more cannons ripped it apart. Hundreds of men and women would never have the choice of receiving replacement bionic legs, or no legs at all. Their destinies had been made for them.

He sighed, then leaned forward. When he did, the energy platform that his torso rested on began to race up the next hallway.

76

As Vere made her way across the fields leading to CamaLon and the heart of her father's kingdom, she thought about Occulus and A'la Dure and Galen and everyone and everything else from her past. She thought of the last six years—fun, but a waste compared with how it could have been spent. She thought of Occulus' last words and also of A'la Dure's and Galen's.

You can be whatever type of person you want.

Be better.

The galaxy is an incredible place when you start to see how it works.

She couldn't help but wonder what her father's last words would have been if she had been there to hear them.

Above her, a line of orange fire streaked through the Edsall Dark sky as part of a mangled Athens Destroyer entered the atmosphere and plummeted toward the ground. In front of her, the gate to CamaLon got bigger and bigger as she approached. No bounty hunters were coming for her any more. Instead, there was an eerie silence that seemed inconsistent with the death and destruction going on everywhere over the planet.

Why hadn't she come here sooner? What had been more important? Drinking? Thieving? Just because a man she had loved had chosen a life without her rather than one with her? Because her father, usually understanding and loving, had momentarily seen her through the eyes of a ruler rather than those of a father? Because it had been so easy for him to forget about her mother and marry someone else?

Her eyes returned to the battle overhead. A line of Athens Destroyers took an amazing amount of cannon fire, three of the ships losing their structural integrity and two of them breaking into hundreds of pieces. But at the same time, another group of destroyers moved into place beside the Solar Carriers that had been focused on the first ships and obliterated an entire row of her father's armada.

The battle wouldn't last much longer, and still the ground defenses weren't providing support to Hotspur. Even if they did win, her father was already dead, as was Galen—the love of her life—and both Occulus and A'la Dure.

Only days earlier, her life had consisted of avoiding this planet, drinking and stealing and fighting along with people who didn't care about one kingdom or another. Now, two of those friends were dead. Her father's kingdom was being taken over. And she was there to witness it firsthand.

She continued walking across the field until she arrived at the massive gates that divided the wilderness from the capital. Although she wasn't sure if they would consider her an enemy or an ally, she certainly did expect guards at the gate. No one was there, however.

"Hello?" she said, passing through the open gate and making her way into the capital. The guard post was vacant. No kids or anyone else were around either. Everything was perfectly silent.

She passed by the area where she and Galen had played hide and seek so many times as kids. She passed by the area she had walked every morning with her mother. Every place she went, instead of the activity and people she associated with that place, there was only silence and emptiness.

"Hello?" she said again, but once more there was only quiet as the battle raged above, and she shuddered at the sight. This was what her father's kingdom would be like if everyone were dead and CamaLon were a ghost town.

With that thought in mind, she quickened her pace, heading for the lift that would take her up to the top of the city center. Someone there should be able to tell her what was going on.

77

General Agravan stood at the main window of the command deck of his Athens Destroyer. In front of him, his ships were still continuing through the portal in a line. Fourteen of his destroyers that had gone through the energy field were out of action, nine of them complete losses—all personnel aboard assumed dead. But that was only one side of the story.

The other side was that only a few Solar Carriers remained. Already, more than thirty of the CasterLan flagships were decimated. Six more were still functioning, but for the purpose of battle they were also lost.

Mowbray had been wrong about there being no fighting at all, but Agravan preferred it this way. A victory without bloodshed inspired no one. What would Minot have to be proud of if the CasterLan army allowed their invaders to take over the kingdom without a fight? Minot's reputation needed to be built on conquering defiant peoples, not on accepting the surrender of weaklings. This way, everyone would see what the Vonnegan fleet was capable of. Everyone would see that even a kingdom as mighty as the CasterLans had no forces capable of withstanding the Athens Destroyers.

"It is glorious," Minot said, standing next to him on the deck, watching the same procession of death proceed through the portal.

"That it is," Agravan agreed. "And soon, it will be yours."

Whereas Mowbray had been wrong about there being no resistance at all, he had been right about the CasterLan defenses not being utilized. How Mowbray knew such a thing would happen was beyond Agravan's grasp. It was part of what made Mowbray such a cunning and effective leader; he always knew more than anyone else. The proof was in front of the Vonnegan fleet as they destroyed Solar Carrier after Solar Carrier without any of the famous CasterLan defenses being initiated.

"Captain Murrow," he said, not turning away from the window.

"Yes, General."

"How much longer until the last of the fleet is through?"

He was waiting patiently to join the fight but would not go through the portal until every other Athens Destroyer had done so first.

"Five minutes, sir."

"Very good."

On the holographic projection of the battle that he watched, the two fleets were divided by hundreds of men and women in space armor as they drifted, waiting to be rescued.

"Order the destroyers to release their fighters," Agravan said.

The captain nodded and punched in a series of commands on his display panel.

As General Agravan watched the holographic representation of what was happening on the other side of the portal, the side hangars of each Athens Destroyer opened up. From within each one, dozens of Vonnegan Thunderbolts, the single-manned attack fighters of the Vonnegan army, lifted off and joined the fight, swarming the already overwhelmed CasterLan fleet.

78

"We're almost there," Morgan said, peeking through the gap where Traskk was holding yet another panel so every blaster shot could be reflected back and forth. His fingers had been hit by lasers a dozen times. Each time this happened, he roared and bared his fangs as if he were going to attack everything around him. With every angry bellow, Morgan cringed and refused to look his direction for fear that acknowledging what was happening might prompt the Basilisk to start ripping the closest living thing to pieces.

Each time she peered around the edge of the blast panel, more and more laser shots were absorbing into the control room's door rather than bouncing off of it. She had emptied four blasters into the door and was now on her fifth.

"Two more Solar Carriers without power," Baldwin said. "It looks like the Thunderbolts are in the battle now, too."

She had asked him to watch the holographic feed above them and report on what was happening in the battle, but each description was so discouraging that part of her didn't want to hear any more.

"It's a matter of time until Hotspur releases the Llyushin fighters to counter them," she said.

In the academy, Hotspur had been worshipped as an idol, a military leader who craved being at the front of every battle. Now, though, she saw him differently. His leadership style was built on intimidation rather than respect. His desire for glory above all else led him to be reckless and had single-handedly jeopardized the entire kingdom. But he was also the only person keeping the Vonnegan fleet from descending to the surface and changing CamaLon from the capital of the CasterLan Kingdom to yet another Vonnegan territory, along with the rest of Edsall Dark.

The next time she peeked at the blast door, all of the lasers were absorbing into the door.

"Okay," she said, "Move back."

Traskk let the panel of Hector's ship fall flat on the ground. Fastolf and Baldwin went down the hallway and around the corner while Morgan and Traskk set explosives.

"Your hands gonna be all right?" she asked as they placed the charges against the door.

His response was an irritated growl.

A moment later, the two of them went running around the same corner where Baldwin and Fastolf were, just as a blast sounded and a rush of hot air blew by all of their faces.

When they looked down the hallway again, the door was gone. It took a while to make sure, though, because of all the smoke in the air.

Fastolf started to walk toward the door but Morgan grabbed him by the shoulder, keeping him hidden around the corner. If she were in the control room, she would wait for the people who were outside to start walking down the hallway before she used the smoke as cover and blasted them all away.

"You in there! Drop your weapons." She waited a minute but no one said or did anything. "I have an extremely angry Basilisk here whose been shot a whole bunch of times in the last couple minutes, and he's ready to tear the faces off anyone he finds in there. If I was you, I'd put my weapons down and leave right now." Still no response. The only other thing she could think to yell was, "Hello?"

But no one responded to this either. She shrugged and nudged Fastolf to go ahead and be the first one to walk down the hallway if that was what he wanted. She had to admit he was perfect for it: with Fastolf in the lead, she and Baldwin were completely obstructed from sight.

After realizing why she had kept him from going initially, Fastolf wasn't eager to move now. He cringed and looked for an excuse to stay where he was.

Gesturing at Baldwin, he said, "Make him go first."

Baldwin looked offended and opened his mouth to protest but couldn't think of anything to save himself.

"Sorry," Morgan said, pulling on Fastolf's sleeve. "It's nothing personal."

"If I do this, you promise to never tear my ear off or break my nose again?"

She sucked air in through her teeth. "You drive a tough bargain."

For a moment she looked like she were actually weighing if it was worth it to have him go first if it meant not being allowed to hurt his face again. But then she nodded and said he had a deal.

The fool that he was, Fastolf actually closed his eyes as he made his way down the walkway so he wouldn't have to see a laser burst come at him before he died. As he walked, Morgan and Baldwin followed close behind with Traskk bringing up the rear.

"Hello?" Fastolf called out.

Behind him, Morgan said, "If anyone is in there, drop your weapons and we won't hurt you."

At the spot where the door had been, Morgan leaned around the side of Fastolf's belly and looked inside the control room. She had expected resistance, a group of CasterLan soldiers who had sworn to hold their post at all costs, their blasters ready to fire. Maybe an array of tables turned on their side to act as a makeshift barricade. Instead, as her eyes adjusted and began to see clearly through the dissipating smoke, she only saw a single lowly ensign, no weapon in sight, sitting in front of an array of switches and monitors. When Morgan and the others entered the control room, the ensign only looked at her, then went back to doing his job.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

The man, younger than her by at least five or six years and probably fresh out of his training class, looked at her, unsure of what he was supposed to say. She made it easy by pointing her blaster at him.

"Don't make me ask again."

"I'm monitoring the battle," the meek response came back.

"Why aren't you activating the ground defenses to help Hotspur?"

"I was ordered not to."

"By who?"

"Modred."

"Well, you have new orders." The blaster was still aimed right at the man. "Activate the Crown right now."

The young man looked past her at the big goof, the doctor, and the Basilisk. Each of them also had blasters, although they weren't pointed at him. With the mood Traskk was in, however, just having the ensign look at him with that dumbfounded expression was enough to make him slam his tail against the ground and hiss. Immediately, the ensign forgot about the blaster that was being pointed at him and focused his fear on the reptile across the room.

"I know it's difficult to disobey an order," Morgan said. "But sometimes, it's the smartest thing you can do."

She was saying it to the ensign but she wished Hotspur were there to hear it as well. This entire battle, all of the death and destruction going on, could have been prevented if Hotspur had only questioned his orders to attack a seemingly random ship rather than carry them out with glee.

When the man still didn't say or do anything, she moved her index finger to the tip of the blaster's trigger. This got the man moving. He turned in his chair and began punching in a series of commands. Baldwin and Fastolf watched a set of monitors to see what was going on above the planet.

"Activating the Crown," the ensign said.

After a few seconds, a humming noise began. After a minute, a click sounded, then an incredibly large engine began to thrum. A noise engulfed the control room as if they were standing right behind a Solar Carrier as it prepared for take off.

The humming and the gigantic motor continued, followed by the grinding of metal on metal. A rumble went up through the floor.

The ensign added, "The Crown will be ready in three, two, one."

"You know what to do," Morgan said, watching the monitors that showed just how badly Hotspur's fleet was doing.

79

Hundreds of floors above them, atop the king's quarters and higher than any other point in the capital, the five giant barrels that resembled a crown began to swivel sideways, the entire structure rotating slowly until one of the points of the Crown was pointed up toward the center of the battle.

80

"Fire!" Hotspur yelled. A second later, after the Solar Carrier unleashed another blast, he yelled the order again.

As he watched, his ship's cannons released volleys of laser blasts at the swarming Vonnegan fleet. Another Athens Destroyer was turned to floating space debris, but was immediately replaced by another, and still there were more ships appearing through the portal. He had given up on asking his captain for updates on how the rest of the fleet was doing. Sector 3 was gone. Sector 2 only had two CasterLan ships remaining. And in Sector 1, he was beginning to take on heavy fire.

The battle had already been going badly enough when it had just been the destroyers versus his fleet, but then the Vonnegan general had dispatched squadron after squadron of Thunderbolts. The tiny Vonnegan fighters—dark gray, shaped as if a team of engineers had tried to place a Y on top of a Q—swarmed over every damaged and crippled Solar Carrier. Hotspur had ordered his own fighters to be released, but the limited number of W-model Llyushin fighters were outnumbered ten to one by the Vonnegan ships.

Through it all he promised that if he did somehow live through this battle, he would choke the life out of Modred. He could crush the brat's pitiful little neck with one hand. The thought made him smile.

"Fire!" he yelled again. For some reason, the cannons of his Solar Carrier stopped sending out blasts. "I said, fire!"

"I'm sorry, sir," his captain said. "We've taken too much damage. Our cannon systems are down."

They were a sitting target and everyone knew it. A pair of Vonnegan fighters zipped past the deck, each firing a pair of proton torpedoes. An explosion rocked the ship and alarms began sounding everywhere, but the structure held up. The hull wasn't breached and they weren't sucked out into space.

Hotspur's captain walked up beside him. "It was an honor serving with you, sir."

Hotspur looked at him, saying nothing, then shook his head and turned to watch the battle once more.

Right then, a burst of light appeared in the sky, so bright and brilliant that everyone on the command deck had to close their eyes, and even after they reopened them, everything was hazy and blurred until their pupils recovered.

In front of them, an Athens Destroyer that had been firing on them was nothing more than the steel outline of a ship. All of its blast panels, all of its windows, radar dishes, cannons, everything, had been destroyed in one burst.

It took a moment, but Hotspur quickly realized what had happened. It hadn't been a flash of light. It was a massive laser cannon. The laser that had raced past their ship and into the destroyer had been degrees larger than all of the cannons of three Solar Carriers combined. It was larger even than the engines that powered the Solar Carriers.

Another burst of light rushed past Hotspur's ship. All of the fighters, both Vonnegan and CasterLan, that were in its path, were instantly vaporized. The second enormous laser burst hit the next Athens Destroyer in the formation, and this one also became nothing more than steel beams and floating debris.

"It took long enough," he said, but the captain next to him still had no idea what was happening.

Someone down on the surface of Edsall Dark had finally activated the Crown.

Another shot rushed past his ship, obliterating yet another Athens Destroyer. The officers behind him began celebrating. Their cheers only lasted for a split second, however, because Hotspur's Solar Carrier was one of the few remaining in the battle and nearly all of the Vonnegan ships had turned their attention to it.

"A little too long, I suppose" he muttered, as an enemy laser blast ripped through another part of his ship.

A pair of Thunderbolts raced past. Each let off a complement of proton torpedoes which exploded right in front of him. The command deck windows exploded. He and everyone else who had been controlling the lead Solar Carrier were sucked out into space.

The battle was lost.

81

The first lift took Vere up over a hundred levels above ground. At its top, she ran across a hallway to where another lift would take her up to the next tier. As she zoomed skyward, she saw that someone had finally activated the Crown and that Athens Destroyers were being obliterated, one after another.

One such ship was halfway through the portal, only the front portion of it visible, when one of the Crown's laser beams devastated it. Every part of the ship that had been through the portal was turned to a skeletal mass of scrap metal. The second half of the ship continued through the energy field, perfectly untouched by the destruction. But even the people in the rear of the vessel would die immediately once the tinder walls at the front half of the ship were destroyed and the energy coursing through the portal caused all of the living matter inside to perish.

The Crown was too late, however. Her father's fleet was already in ruins. And maybe even worse, now that the Crown had begun firing, the Vonnegan fleet was dispersing. That meant it was a matter of time until Athens Destroyers made their way toward the planet so they could target Edsall Dark's colossal weapon and prevent any further losses.

As she was taken up toward the next tier of CamaLon, she saw an Athens Destroyer descend toward the spaceport, where it would surely unload a battalion of troops to begin taking over the city.

She was running out of time. Or had she already run out of time? What was left for her to do? Her father was already dead. The war had already started and was largely finished. Did it matter that she was finally racing home?

At the top of the second tier, she ran toward the third and final lift that would take her up to the king's chambers and other restricted areas of the capital. Running around the corner of a hallway, she hit squarely into the back of Pistol. The android, made with stabilizing mechanisms vastly superior to human equilibrium and balance, barely moved when she bounced off him. But he also didn't turn and attack her because he registered who had run into him before turning around.

"What are you guys doing?" she asked.

Hector was on the other side of Pistol. The two of them had been looking at a holographic display of some sort. Hector's hover platform swiveled so he was facing her.

"Trying to figure out if there's a secondary control room," he told her. "One to shut off the portal."

"I don't think so," she said. "I hate to say it."

Hector nodded. "I was afraid of that."

"You're injured," Pistol said.

A small light appeared in his right eye and scanned the gash across her neck.

"It's nothing. Just a badge I have to bear." She looked up the next hallway, then behind her before asking where the others were.

"Getting into the control room," Pistol said. "If Fastolf can fit through the doorway."

"The Crown is firing on the Vonnegan fleet. I assume they got in."

"Good," Hector said. "What's our next move, then?"

She glanced at the same display they had been looking at, which showed the floor plan of the upper levels. Their options were limited.

"If there is a way to shut off the portal and it isn't in the main control room, I would guess it might be near my father's chambers."

She pressed her fingers against a red bar of light next to the third lift. A blue light blinked and the door opened. As soon as all three of them were inside, the door slid shut and they were being zipped upward.

They rode in silence, Vere collecting her thoughts, Pistol not talking unless spoken to, and Hector always happy to have quiet. Far below them, she could see the ground and the fields she had walked across only minutes earlier. It seemed an impossibly long distance from where she was now.

At the top of the third tier, there were only a few options where they could go. But the place Vere most wanted to see was her father's chambers, where her father had most likely been when he died, and where his body most likely was still resting. Lacking a better idea of what to do, that was where she went. Hector and Pistol followed a few feet behind.

Vere swiped her fingers through a bar of light to be allowed entry through a series of smooth, metal doors, but at the last door, Hector's energy platform dipped toward the ground until he reared backward. When he tried again, the energy that kept him hovering at hip level began to flicker and he faltered toward the floor. He moved backward and told Pistol to stick his arm through the doorway. The android's hand passed through, but then his fingers immediately became limp, dangling like a failed puppet show.

"A Treagon barrier," Hector announced. "We can't pass through with you."

Vere nodded. "Head back the same direction we came and see if there might be any other rooms with controls to shut off the portal. You'll only have a couple minutes before Vonnegan troops begin flooding the hallways."

"Understood," Hector said.

The way he looked at her and smiled made her afraid he was going to say something like, "Your father would be proud." But instead he merely swiveled on his energy platform and took off down the next hallway with Pistol right behind him.

She watched them go, then turned back toward the door. This one, unlike the others, had an old fashioned knob. All she had to do was turn it and walk through.

In front of her was a wide, circular array of windows that looked out on every direction of the planet. It was a room she had been in countless times while growing up. But now, unlike when she had been here last, her father's bed was in the very middle of the room. His body, she saw, was still atop it. His skin was gray and it hung off of every bone. Just as she had feared, he was obviously dead.

She began walking toward what was left of her father when she saw a figure in the shadows, his back to her, looking out the windows.

The man's hand looked empty, but on either end of his closed fist she saw parts of a crossguard and handle. And she knew then that even though she couldn't see the blade, it was her father's Meursault sword.

"Hello, Vere," Modred said. "I've been waiting for you."

82

Hotspur watched as he floated away from his Solar Carrier. Looking back, he saw the open crevice where the final proton torpedoes had broken through the last bits of armor plating and shields.

In his space armor, he could survive out in the void of the galaxy until his oxygen supply ran out or until one of the fighters came by to blast away survivors as they floated in space.

Something gripped his arm. Looking to his side, he saw his captain was there next to him. He too had his space armor on, but he hadn't trained in it long enough. Even though he still had a limited amount of emergency oxygen to keep him alive, the man was gasping for air as if he were suffocating. As he did, he clawed at Hotspur for help.

What did he think Hotspur could do for him? The man's panic was his own fault. Not only would flailing his arms and legs use up the limited amount of oxygen in his space armor much faster, it would also alert the nearest Vonnegan fighters that an officer had survived and should either be shot or taken prisoner. Hotspur didn't want to be around when that happened.

With one hand, he steadied the distance between himself and his captain. This made the captain momentarily calm down, feeling that Hotspur was in charge. But instead of assisting any further, Hotspur punched the man in the gut. The captain let go of Hotspur's uniform and brought his knees to his stomach in a zero gravity fetal position.

Next, Hotspur faced himself where he wanted to go and pressed a button on the wrist panel of his suit. Each set of space armor had a single nitrogen burst in the boots that would allow its owner to get positioned for rescue. In open space, the wearer could travel for light-years on the strength of one small nudge, until he or she came close to another gravitational force. Of course, the limited amount of air available in his side pouches only ensured his ability to breathe for a couple of minutes, so anything after that would be a dead man coasting through space for millions of miles in a protected shell.

Hotspur couldn't return to his ship, though. The entire thing would explode as the battle continued. He also couldn't make his way to any other CasterLan ships because they would also be destroyed by the time he got there. So he found the only place he could think of—the portal—and pressed the button on his wrist.

A small puff of gas sent him forward. When it did, he immediately let his arms and legs hang loose as if he were dead. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the captain had gotten his lungs back and had begun flailing his arms and legs again. He was probably screaming too, although there was no way Hotspur or anyone else would be able to hear him. As Hotspur drifted toward the portal, a Thunderbolt flew past at a terrific speed, fired a single blaster shot at the captain, and killed him.

Everywhere Hotspur looked, CasterLan ships were being destroyed or CasterLan soldiers were being shot as they floated in open space. And still he drifted toward the portal.

He didn't intend to fly through it. First of all, Vonnegan ships were still appearing from it. If he ran into one, he would be the equivalent of a little bug splattered across an air-scout bike. And secondly, while space armor allowed him to survive for a few minutes in space, it didn't have the protection necessary to keep him alive if he passed through the portal. He would go from being the leader of the combined CasterLan forces to being an unidentifiable mass of gore inside an otherwise undamaged suit of space armor.

What he intended to do was fly to the rim of the portal, to where a small maintenance room was located inside one of the cylinders. He wouldn't be able to contribute anything else to this battle, but he would be there for the next one. His priority right now was somehow getting back down to the planet, finding Modred, and snapping his neck.

All he had to do was hope that no fighters decided to take target practice on a seemingly dead officer, and that he didn't accidently get hit by a vessel, fly into the portal, or wander wide of its rim. The situation he was in was even more dire than the stories he had learned about in the academy of great war heroes who had overcome insurmountable odds. He would become a legend when he returned to Edsall Dark. And because of that he grinned as he drifted closer to the portal, war and death still surrounding him.

83

"What are you doing?" Vere said, standing beside her father's body.

"Watching the battle," Modred answered, sounding neither dismayed nor encouraged by what was going on above the planet. If she didn't know better, she would have guessed him to have been made by the same specialists who built Pistol.

Vere took her father's hand in her own. It was cold and stiff, nothing like the hand that had tickled her belly or swept over her eyes when she was a child.

"What are you doing here?" Modred asked, not turning from the window. "Isn't there a bar somewhere where you should be getting drunk and fighting?"

She looked up from the gray form of her father's corpse. Modred still had his back to her, still had her father's sword by his side.

"I came back to try and prevent exactly what has happened."

Her stepbrother laughed. "Too little, too late, huh?"

Her jaw twitched and flexed. "What do you know about everything that's happened?"

Finally, Modred turned from the window and faced her. He was bigger than she remembered. Not nearly as muscular as Hector or Hotspur, but also no longer the lanky and awkward kid he had been when she last saw him. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was disheveled and long enough to cover his eyebrows.

He stared at her for a moment, then shrugged.

"What's it matter?" he said. "None of it makes a difference any more."

She was about to ask if her father had ordered the attack on the Ornewllian Compact in Vonnegan space when Modred said, "I poisoned him. Is that what you're wondering? It was me."

She returned her father's hand to his side. Without even realizing she had done so, both of her hands curled into fists.

"Why?"

Modred laughed. "He wouldn't die on his own. I had to speed up the process."

Her face was turning red. She could feel her heart thumping, begging for revenge.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

He laughed and pointed up at the sky. "Don't you see? It's too late. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Gritting her teeth, she asked why he had killed her father.

He cocked his head to one side as if confused by her question or unsure whether she was playing games with him by asking such stupid things.

"Why?" he said. "The oldest reason. The original reason. The reason every king has ever been killed over the last million years." His eyes got big as if she should know the answer, but when she didn't reply, he said, "To take his place, of course. To become king myself."

Anger made it difficult for her to breathe. "By having the entire kingdom destroyed? There won't be anything left to rule over."

He threw his hands in the air. When he did, the Meursault sword momentarily changed angles and she saw the blade before it once again vanished. A tiny trail of colored vapors appeared where the blade passed through the air, then quickly dissipated.

"Don't you think I know that? Like I said, it wasn't supposed to happen this way. Hotspur wasn't supposed to attack. The Crown wasn't supposed to be activated."

"And you really think the Vonnegan general would have just arrived, let you rule over the lands, and then gone peacefully away?"

"They said so. They said that's what would happen. They were going to claim the CasterLan Kingdom as part of the Vonnegan Empire. They were going to leave everything else alone and let me rule the planet." Then, looking up at the battle above Edsall Dark, he yelled, "But that idiot Hotspur had to go and ruin it!"

"Who told you that?" she asked, every muscle in her arms tense. "Who did you make a deal with?"

Modred wasn't listening, though. The answer was clear, anyway. Nobody would speak on Mowbray's behalf on such an important matter. It had to have been the Vonnegan ruler himself.

"The funny thing is, your father really did order the attack on those innocent aliens. I drugged him, of course. Gave him a dose of hallucinogens. There's no telling what he was actually talking about when I whispered about the Ornewllian Compact. He was so out of his mind by then that a bit of prompting was all it took to convince him it was absolutely necessary. That old fool was so drugged and delirious that he would have repeated anything I said."

"Is Lady Percy behind this too?"

Modred laughed. "My mother? You'll find this hard to believe, but she actually loved your father. I don't know why, but she did. If she knew what I'd been planning, she would have disowned me."

"That's nicer than I would have done." Her own hands were raw from where her fingernails dug into them. "Nicer than I'm going to do."

Modred rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Do you know what it's like coming here and seeing how everyone is treated?"

Vere didn't say anything. The roar of rushing blood in her head made it difficult to care about anything else he said. On another day, she would have said that everyone in her father's court, all of the people on Edsall Dark, and the rest of the CasterLan Kingdom were treated fairly and honestly. Now, though, all she could do was keep from screaming with rage.

His voice got louder: "You were lazy and entitled and yet you were always your father's favorite. Nothing I did mattered. Even when you ran away and became a thieving drunk, all he talked about was you. 'Oh, Vere' and 'I miss my daughter' and 'What did I do wrong?' and 'Do you think she'll come back?' and 'She's the only one I trust to rule after I'm gone.' He said those things about a piece of trash! A drunk! A thief! And the entire time, there I was, being a diligent son, studying, helping everywhere I could. Did it make any difference? Of course not!" Modred screamed, saliva spattering the window in front of him as he yelled.

"Modred, I—"

"So I adapted. If being here and being the exact opposite of you didn't work, I'd change my tactics. I contacted the Vonnegan high command and told them what I was planning. They promised they would send their fleet as a show of force, and to make sure everyone on Edsall Dark accepted me as their new leader. But they weren't going to do anything else. They swore."

"Modred, I—" she tried again.

"Now it's too late. None of it matters. Even if the Vonnegan fleet doesn't destroy us, there won't be anyone left for me to rule over."

"Modred?" Her voice was calm and even.

He blinked back into the present moment. "Yes! What do you want?"

She stared directly at him. "I'm going to enjoy killing you."

Leaving her father's body behind her, she stepped forward, withdrew her own Meursault blade, and charged.

Ready For a Fight, by Molly Evans, watercolor and ink
84

"What else do we do?" Baldwin asked.

Morgan leaned back against the chair she was sitting on in the control room. On the hologram displays in front of her, she was able to see a three dimensional depiction of the battle going on over the planet. Hotspur's ship was destroyed. Almost all of his other Solar Carriers were inoperable or were complete losses. The Crown was still firing, still obliterating a single Athens Destroyer each time it fired a shot, but there were too many, and still more appearing every minute.

No matter how much they had looked through the control room's various systems, there was nothing to shut off the portal, and nothing else besides the Crown, that could pose a serious threat to the Vonnegan fleet. Already, she saw displays that showed destroyers descending toward the spaceport, readying to unload battalions of Vonnegan troopers.

"I don't think there's anything else we can do," she admitted.

There was a small squadron of Llyushin fighters remaining above the spaceport, fending off incoming Vonnegan ships. However, they would be no match for the quantity of Vonnegan vessels everywhere, and so she didn't concern herself with watching how they were faring. Hector and Pistol were in the top levels of the capital building, but she didn't think there was a secondary control room or any means of deactivating the portal.

"This is it?" Fastolf said. "We're just going to quit?"

She turned and looked at him, then smiled. "You know," she said, "when you aren't stealing from me and you're not intoxicated, you're not too bad."

He blushed and smiled.

"Is anyone there?" a voice asked.

She looked at everyone in the room, knew it wasn't any of their voices, then faced the communications system.

"Hello?" the voice came again.

She realized it was coming through the speakers to her side.

"Hello?" she said. "Who's this?"

"This is Hotspur, leader of the combined CasterLan—"

"Hotspur is dead."

"I'm not dead," the voice came over the system, sounding distinctly annoyed. "Who is this?"

"Morgan."

"Morgan?"

"Yes."

There was silence for a moment, and she guessed Hotspur was trying to figure out why his former lieutenant was in the CamaLon control room when she had abandoned her post a week earlier and hadn't been seen since.

"Is anyone else there?" he asked. "I don't speak to traitors."

She thought to herself that if trying to prevent a war made her a traitor, she would gladly be known as the galaxy's greatest turncoat of all time. But the absurdity of a man saying such nonsense after watching his fleet be decimated only made her laugh with exasperation.

"Sure," she said. "You have your choice of a drunken thief or a physician's assistant."

Fastolf gave her a pained look but kept silent. Baldwin tried to offer an encouraging look but only seemed even more out of place than ever before. Traskk's tail slid back and forth across the ground after not being considered as an option.

"What?" Hotspur yelled. "What are you talking about? Put someone else on."

She knew from his voice—and from seeing him do it firsthand—that if he were in the room with them he would try to kill everyone he could get his hands on.

"Sorry, 'Spur, I'm all you've got," she said. "Where are you, anyway?"

"I'm in the command room of the Tevis-84 Portal."

Her gaze darted toward the displays in front of her. "Where?"

"I'm in the portal ring, inside cylinder 001. The Athens Destroyers are coming through the portal right next to me."

She wanted to ask how he had gotten there but it could wait. There were more important things to address.

Leaning close to the displays in front of her, she asked if there was a way to shut off the portal.

There was silence for a moment while Morgan and her cohorts waited.

When his voice came back over the speaker again, he sounded resigned: "I don't know. There might be, but I'd need someone who understands these things. I'm a general, not an engineer."

Morgan slumped back in her seat again. Nothing would stop the rest of the Vonnegan fleet from coming through the portal and destroying everyone she knew and everything she loved.

85

In the light of Edsall Dark's smaller sun, every part of the king's chambers was cast in a burnt red except where the setting sun shown against the king's gold linens and the tapestries arranged between each window. These were the few parts of the room that glowed orange as day gave way to night.

In front of a tapestry with the CasterLan family crest sewn into it, a streak of orange vapor cut through the air where Vere's blade came racing down at Modred. When he deflected it, instead of the clang of metal on metal that occurred with any other type of sword, a thundering boom sounded and sparks sprayed in every direction.

He took a step back so he was standing in front of the last remnants of sunlight, then swung back at her. The blade couldn't be seen, but the spot where it tore through the air left a trail of red vapor behind it. When he moved back another step, in front of the next tapestry, his next swing left an orange trail.

So light was Vere on her feet that she didn't even have to deflect his swing. Instead, Modred's Meursault sword slashed a line straight through the marble floor they were both standing on. He swung again. Again he missed. And this time his blade cut a line through the curved metal girders that gave the room its structure.

She stepped to the side, then swiped her hand at him. Although the blade could only be seen when she curved the sword to the side, a line of vapors showed where the Invisible Death had passed through the air. Modred brought his sword up just in time to deflect it.

A boom sounded. The room was showered with sparks of light that disappeared as quickly as they had formed.

"You're no one," Modred hissed. "You're a drunk. A thief."

"Does it bother you that a drunken thief is getting the upper hand on you so easily?" she said, smiling.

He bellowed a cry of indignation, then brought his sword down through the air. Again, it missed Vere and sliced through the marble by her feet. Immediately, he swung again, this time from side to side, missing her and cutting a stone pillar in half so that hundreds of pounds of rock fell between them.

She brought her arm back, then pitched it down by his ankles. As he brought his own sword down to protect his legs, she swung a second time, this time at his neck. He brought the king's Meursault blade up to his face just before he would have lost everything above his mouth.

Sparks covered them as the booms echoed in the cavernous room.

He backed away and she followed. He circled and she circled, trying to cut off any space for him to flee. Running out of ideas, he looked at the king's resting spot in the middle of the room and made a dash for it.

"What are you doing, Modred?" she asked with more impatience than anything else.

But then she saw what he had planned and she gasped. He couldn't win in a fair fight. Even if he wasn't the skinny kid she had once known, he was still outmatched. But even more than that, he was mad that he was being handled by someone he so thoroughly despised, someone he regarded as an inferior even though everyone else thought of her as the future of the kingdom. If he couldn't hurt her, he planned to hurt her father. He was already dead, of course. But she still couldn't stand the thought of Modred desecrating his corpse. Maybe he would cut the king clean in half. Maybe he would cut off Artan's head and toss it out the window, letting it fall hundreds of stories and splattering on the ground with so much momentum that no one would be able to identify the remains of their once beloved ruler.

Modred brought his sword back, then let it dash downward. Instead of defending herself, Vere darted forward and stuck her own blade out to deflect his blow. In front of the gold tapestries in the king's chamber, a trail of orange vapors appeared through the air where the invisible blades raced, booming with a shower of sparks that covered the king's pale skin.

As soon as Vere defended her father's body, Modred turned and began attacking her again. When she brought the sword up to defend herself, he changed course and swung for the dead king's legs. She leapt forward and managed to keep Modred's swing from cutting anything except the corner of the bed.

After moving to the side and protecting her father's corpse, Vere said, "You're a disgrace to everyone who's ever known you."

Everywhere they moved, the Meursault blades changed from invisible to visible to invisible once again. Everywhere Vere and Modred swung their weapons, trails of colored vapor lingered in the air, either red or orange depending on where they were in the room.

He was swinging wildly now. Once at her, then at her father. At her father, then at her. After saving her father's right arm from being cut off, she barely had time to bring her sword up to her side to keep her torso from being cut cleanly in half. Modred swung again, missed, and sliced through another pillar. More rock came tumbling down around them.

He swung at her. She defended. He swung at the king's body. She defended. Booms of thunder sounded every time their invisible blades collided.

"Fine," she said after a while, letting her sword drop to her side as she collected her breath. "He's already dead. Do whatever you want."

Modred was gasping for breath, trying to collect himself. At first, he thought she was trying to trick him into lowering his weapon. Then he saw her back away and his eyebrows raised.

"You have no pride about anything do you?" he mocked.

"Do it," she said. "You can't defeat me, so attack a dead man."

He grinned and moved toward the king's body.

"You don't think I will?"

But her only response was to move another step backward.

He stood at the king's side for a moment, wondering if he should actually go through with it. Then he shrugged and brought his hand up over his shoulder.

"Modred?"

He turned to look at Vere. She was twelve feet away and no longer a threat. Even so, she was gripping her Meursault blade as if she meant to use it.

Seeing recognition go across his face, she gave him a genuine smile. Then she brought her hand through the air from her right side to her left. A slash of vapor appeared on one side of another pillar, disappeared into it, then reappeared on the other side.

After a slight groan, the stone slid away and a third pillar came crashing down. Rocks fell all around her and she had to jump backward not to be crushed. With three of the four pillars in the room gone, the last stone column had no chance of supporting the entire ceiling.

There was a creak, a crack. Then, without further warning, the entire roof came crashing down into the room. Vere jumped back a second time, toward the doorway, to escape being crushed. Dust flew up everywhere, covering her face and also the Meursault so that its outline was finally visible.

Only when the dust cleared and the sound of rocks falling finally stopped did she step forward. Her father's bed and body were completely buried.

"Help," Modred said in a pained whisper. "Help me."

She circled the pile of rocks. Two feet away from the top of the king's bed, where Modred had been prepared to cut her dead father to pieces, she saw his hands trying without success to move the rocks off of him. She reached forward and removed a boulder, exposing his head. His face was covered in blood. His arms and legs and chest were buried under stone and most likely were crushed. He would soon be dead, no matter what she did. Probably, he wouldn't live more than another minute or two. She removed two more rocks.

"Modred?"

"Help, please."

"Modred?"

He blinked back into reality, seeing her standing over him.

"Yes?"

"Don't go too soon. I want you to know what happened in your final moments."

She brought her sword down and sliced through his neck and the surrounding rocks.

  1. 86

"Will it always be this easy?" Minot asked, looking out at the destruction displayed by the holographic models of the battlefield.

Against his prior judgment, he had ordered his Athens Destroyer to bypass the line of ships waiting to pass through the portal. They still watched the battle unfold through the use of holograms, however, because he had ordered his crew to immediately station the flagship behind the portal where the Crown couldn't get them.

Everywhere Minot and General Agravan looked, there were holographic depictions of destroyed Solar Carriers, some crumbling to pieces, some drifting in space without any ability to fire, move, or defend themselves.

A holographic representation of a Llyushin fighter raced past the side of an Athens Destroyer, followed by three Thunderbolts, which were firing dozens of laser blasts as they pursued it. A moment later, the Llyushin fighter erupted in blue flames and then exploded.

"No," Agravan said. "Not always this easy. But do not discount our losses. More of our ships have been destroyed than I would have preferred."

On the other side of the portal, even more Athens Destroyers waited to join the fight. Even though the Vonnegan fleet was going to win the battle and had suffered a fraction of the CasterLan losses, they could still look at any hologram of the battle and see an Athens Destroyer that was no longer functioning. Most of the damage had been done by the Crown. Although he would have it disabled soon enough, it wasn't as quick and easy as simply sending down a missile because the Crown was vaporizing everything within its target radius. That meant his ships had to circle wide of the planet and land where the Crown couldn't blast them away.

In response to seeing his fleet be destroyed one ship at a time, he had told his officers to move the majority of the destroyers directly behind the portal, where they would be protected.

Agravan didn't like the idea of hiding behind the portal—it went against all of his sensibilities as a leader—but if that was what it took to guarantee the future of the Vonnegan Empire, he would do it. Nothing was more important than Minot's safety. Mowbray wouldn't mind the losses that had been incurred to his fleet. After all, they had still been successful in taking over the CasterLan Kingdom and Mowbray had been the one who guaranteed the Crown wouldn't be activated; Agravan would have used a different tactical approach if it had been up to him. The only thing that could make this effort be considered a defeat in the eyes of Mowbray was if something happened to Minot.

"Have you given thought to which kingdom you might want to invade when you become ruler?" he asked the boy.

"Kingdom?" Minot said, his eyes full of innocence. "Why just one? I was thinking about all of them."

Agravan didn't bother with a reply other than to smile. He was too proud to do or say anything else.

  1. 87

"Any suggestions?" Morgan asked with a sigh.

If she had used that tone when she was serving as lieutenant aboard Hotspur's Solar Carrier, he would have crushed her windpipe in his massive gloved hand. But since she was sitting on a planet in the early stages of an invasion, the CasterLan fleet all but destroyed, and Hotspur was stuck in the maintenance room of the Tevis-84 portal, she could talk to him any way she wanted.

"Send a ship to come get me," Hotspur said. "I'll lead the ground resistance from the capital."

She looked at the hologram display. To her and the others in the room, it was horrifying. In front of their eyes, an entire kingdom was being destroyed. But to Hotspur, it was inconsequential, part of a play in which he was the lead actor. Behind her, Fastolf stood at attention and mimed orders, his impersonation of Hotspur, and for once she shared in his mocking tone.

She let her chin rest on her hands and shook her head. "There are almost no ships left. Even if we could spare one, it would get blasted out of the sky by the Vonnegan fleet before it was able to get to you and come back."

Hotspur's fist smashed a console in front of him. The feed of his holographic image shook and bounced before resettling. Standing alone in the small room right next to the portal, only feet away from the massive energy field that transported ships from one part of the galaxy to another, he looked for something else to take his frustration out on.

"I'm the leader of the combined CasterLan forces," he growled. "Without me, the army will fall to pieces."

"The army has already fallen to pieces," she said. "And, I might add, it did so while under your leadership. The battle is lost. Your fleet is destroyed."

She watched as Hotspur broke a chair in two pieces with a single punch.

"Then what do you propose?" he said.

As they talked, two more Athens Destroyers had come through the portal and another was making its way through. Many of the ones that were already above the planet were safely positioned behind the circular energy field until the Crown was disabled.

"The Crown is our only effective defense. The Vonnegan ships have to disperse if they want to survive. But there are still ships coming through the portal." She let this sink in before she added, "There is no way to shut down the portal, but we have to stop the rest of the Vonnegan fleet from coming through."

He was silent then, waiting for her to continue, until he realized she had said everything she intended to say. When he connected the dots of her implication, he leaned close to the monitor, his face enlarging on the display in front of her. "Morgan, I know we've had our differences, but—"

"Trust me, Hotspur, it's nothing personal. I would do the same thing if anyone else were in there. Even these guys." She motioned behind her to Baldwin, Fastolf, and Traskk. Realizing that meant little to Hotspur, she said, "I would do the same thing if the king himself were there. And I would expect the same if I were there. We need to do what's best for the kingdom."

"But I'm the leader of the CasterLan forces. Edsall Dark needs me to command the ground fighting."

"It doesn't," she said matter-of-factly. "It simply doesn't."

While she spoke, she entered a new target into the Crown's system. The five-headed cannon revolved slowly to move into position.

"Then I will die a hero," Hotspur said, composing himself, straightening his uniform as best as he could.

"You attacked an innocent ship—"

"I was following orders!"

She ignored this and continued "—in enemy territory. You had to know war would result."

"I was following my king's orders!"

"It was your duty to question them if they could result in war and suffering, not to blindly obey them. You're as much to blame for this war as the Vonnegan general. Your fleet is lost. Your king is dead. You won't be remembered as a war hero, Hotspur. You'll be remembered as a traitor to peace, a warmonger who craved battle and glory more than the lives of those you were sworn to defend."

Another Athens Destroyer had begun to come through the portal. When Hotspur started to repeat the only thing he could think to say to defend himself, that he was needed in order to lead the ground resistance, she let out a deep breath and punched the glowing red button in front of her.

A burst of laser fire shot out from the Crown. The beam was wider than the Llyushin fighters and Thunderbolts still flying through the battlefield. The ones that couldn't get out of its path were decimated and turned to scrap metal. The streak of energy passed by an Athens Destroyer that was making its way toward the planet. Then, as the next Destroyer was only a quarter of the way through the portal, the laser blast hit a group of the three hundred and sixty support structures that formed the frame of the portal. All of them exploded. With them gone, the ring's form was broken.

The monitor that had displayed Hotspur went blank. The ship that was passing through the portal was sliced in half. All life in both sections of the ship would be gone. But the half of the vessel that had made it through only existed for another second because the portal's energy field, no longer perfectly contained within the circle, erupted in every direction. The loose chain that had made up the portal was enveloped in white and blue explosions of energy and destroyed. Every nearby Vonnegan ship was engulfed in energy flares that either caused them to explode or else float uselessly in space. More than a hundred Vonnegan Thunderbolts were also caught in the explosion, as were all of the people—CasterLan and Vonnegan alike—who had been floating in space in their armor.

Where there had been an energy field that allowed vessels to jump from one point in the galaxy to another, there was now only empty black space. More importantly, the shield that dozens of Athens Destroyers had been using was gone. Morgan didn't pause to consider what the Crown had done. Instead, she began putting new orders into the targeting system and began firing upon every Athens Destroyer that had been hiding in a group behind the energy field. The ensign who had been in the same seat watched without saying a word.

The first ship she targeted was a Commander Class Athens Destroyer with nowhere to hide. It was already heavily damaged from the portal's explosion, but she was glad to finish it off. She sent a blast directly into the Destroyer's hull. Every part of the ship was turned to charred metal. Everyone aboard it was gone.

On one display in front of her, she saw an Athens Destroyer landing at the far edge of the Edsall Dark spaceport and a battalion of Vonnegan troopers begin disembarking, readying to invade the city. Baldwin and Fastolf stood behind her, ready to help if she needed it, but she was her own one-person command center.

"Attention, everyone," she said into the capital's public address system. "Vonnegan troops have made their way down to Sector 2 of the space docks. Any and all men and women capable of fighting are needed there."

Another Athens Destroyer was approaching the spaceport, but as it did, it got within the Crown's targeting radius. She aimed one of the five cannons at it, then watched as a beam of laser tore through the middle of the ship. The steel frame could no longer support the front half of the vessel. It broke in two, both pieces plummeting toward CamaLon's commercial sector.

Morgan made another announcement. "Any remaining ships capable of space combat, take off immediately. Ground support will be provided."

On the first display, she watched as a group of nearly one hundred CasterLan soldiers combined with twice as many civilians, all with blasters, to fight the group of Vonnegan troops trying to get off their ship.

On the next display, she watched as four Llyushin fighters and seven random vessels, took off from the space docks to face what remained of the battered Vonnegan fleet.

Only then did she allow herself to lean back in her chair, her head lolling backward with both fatigue and triumph.

Fastolf and Baldwin were still behind her, neither of them knowing what to say other than to tell her she did well. Traskk, she noticed, was gone. On one of the displays in front of her, she saw him, armed with nothing but his claws, fangs, and tail, as he darted past a crowd of CasterLan forces and tore into a group of ten Vonnegan troopers.

Content that she had done all she could do for the time being, she closed her eyes and allowed herself a moment of peace.

  1. 88

Minot's hand was clasped around General Agravan's ankle. It would continue to be locked there for ages.

Although both had been wearing space armor, neither Vonnegan would survive. In fact, Agravan was already dead. When the command deck of his Athens Destroyer had been torn apart and lost pressure, everyone aboard that portion of the ship had been sucked out into space. The general's space armor had a gash ripped into its side as he was pulled past a section of jagged steel on his way out of the ship. He had died within seconds of being exposed to space.

Minot, though, had survived longer.

Upon being sucked out into the cold vacuum of space, the future heir of the Vonnegan Empire had grabbed the first thing he could find. That happened to be Agravan's ankle.

In shock, he refused to let go, even as the two of them drifted further and further out into open space.

He had seen the majority of Solar Carriers turned to scrap. He had even seen a fair number of Athens Destroyers break into pieces or become engulfed in explosions. And yet the war had never seemed like a truly real thing to him. Since he was old enough to read he had been told he would one day become the ruler of the Vonnegan Empire. He watched his father strategize ways to expand that empire. He learned from Agravan how to one day conduct his own conquests of other kingdoms. Through it all, he had never thought, even for a single moment, that the wars and battles and invasions were anything more than a complex game. If he had, he would have realized he was one of the pieces being moved into place. A very important piece, yes, but a piece all the same.

As the oxygen in his space armor began to run out, the terrified boy, still clutching his mentor's leg as they wandered away from Edsall Dark and into the expanse of the galaxy, could only keep thinking one thing to himself over and over.

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

  1. 89

Vere looked at the rubble covering her father's remains. Her Meursault blade slipped from her fingers and clanged on the ground.

An incredible burst of light flared in the sky, so bright she expected to see a sun in the midst of a supernova. Someone had destroyed the portal. Edsall Dark was now cut off from the rest of the galaxy. There would be questions from the other kingdoms that would need to be answered. Each portal was in someone's territory, but it was against galactic law to do anything to any of them. Intentionally destroying a portal was unheard of. She would have a lot of explaining to do.

But at least the Vonnegan army couldn't send more ships to her father's planet—what had been her father's planet. And the ships that remained in the sky were being repelled by a combination of fighters and blasts from the Crown.

She looked back down at where her father's body had been. Even the bed was covered by rocks. It was almost as if he were already buried.

Galen's words came back to her. Your father's not dead, Vere. She closed her eyes.

In this very room, she had listened to her father talk about the qualities of a just ruler. She had looked out the windows as he talked about how being leader of the open and empty fields was just as important as being the leader of the busy commercial district.

As a little girl, she had played games of hide and seek with him. Although they had promised to never leave the king's chambers, he had always managed to find her and she had never been able to find him.

Galen's words echoed in her head again.

This time, her eyes burst open and she scanned the room. The middle of the room was covered in rubble. A few of the surrounding walls had also come down.

She rushed to the first place where the wall was damaged and ran her fingers over every crack and joint, then dashed over to the next and did the same. If anyone were in the room with her, she would have felt foolish doing this—letting hope outweigh the certainty of the body she had seen with her own eyes—but alone, she had no such qualms.

At the fourth section of stone wall, where a finely stitched tapestry had once been but which was now gone after the destruction, her fingers found a small notch in the stone. When she pressed a thumb against it, a click sounded, and the entire section of wall moved out a tiny fraction from the rest. With her weight behind her, she pushed it to the side.

A wave of odor rushed out of the secret room, making her gag. The tiny compartment was dark, and when she stepped forward just enough to lean inside, her foot bumped up against something. Nudging it, she felt how soft it was. That was when her heart skipped a beat and she fell to her knees.

Thousands of years earlier, Zeutan the Explorer had built the room on the chance that his half brother would attempt to have him killed. The only time her father had used it, she realized now, was during their games of hide and seek. Her father must have suspected his wife or her son of a similar intention and hidden there.

With one hand, she pushed the door open further so more light could get inside. With her other hand, she touched her father's face and let his head come to rest on her lap.

"Father," she said.

His skin was still warm, but he was as frail as the body double who had been poisoned by Modred. Somehow, he looked even skinnier and more sickly than the dead body that had taken his place in his bed.

"Oh, father," she whispered, crying.

Looking around the tiny compartment, she could only imagine how he had spent his final week. A great king, her father, had been hidden in a room so small he couldn't even lie down or extend his arms all the way. There was no food or water. What little had been in there had quickly been used. Looking in the emergency room, she saw tiny bugs' legs scattered all over the floor. There were no bugs, though, and she knew her father had resorted to eating whatever he could find.

He had waited there, hoping she would come back, hoping that someone would come and save him.

"I came back," she said. "I never should have left in the first place, but I finally came back."

Her father resembled a skeleton more than he did a king. His eyes and cheeks were sunken in. His hair, where there was still hair, thin and white.

"We won," she said, pointing up to the sky. "The Vonnegan fleet was defeated."

All she wanted was for him to open his eyes or squeeze her hand. She knew, though, that the time for miracles was over.

"I killed Modred," she said. "And we'll find anyone else who might have been responsible for this."

Squeezing his hand, she tried to imagine him being pleased with what she said. She had come back home and killed the man who had poisoned the king. She had been here as the Vonnegan fleet was defeated. And yet she suspected that if her father were alive these wouldn't be the first things he would want to hear about.

"I followed through on my word," she told him. "I gave my word and didn't back down. And I saw Galen again."

A tear trickled down her cheek until she wiped it away.

It would have been so much better to be able to tell him these things when he was alive, to let him know the type of person she was capable of being.

"Oh, father," she said again, wishing he had a way of knowing she was done running from her problems.

Looking up, she scanned the small room where he had decided to hide and wait for her. In the cramped quarters, without anything to keep him hydrated, he might have died even before the body double had succumbed to Modred's poison.

Your father's not dead, Vere.

Galen had sounded very certain.

A scene formed in her mind. Her father had remained in that room, unknown to anyone else, even after the body double had died. Day after day, Modred had been there, waiting to take over the kingdom, and day after day, Vere's father had waited in secret for his daughter to save him.

Your father's not dead, Vere.

He had been alive as recently as when she was in the cave with Galen. She believed this. Somehow, she knew it was true. Only a little bit later, though, he was dead, and she suspected he had held out every bit of willpower to remain alive just long enough to know she had come back. Upon hearing her enter the room and begin fighting Modred, Artan had been able to die in peace.

She tried to imagine him in that little room. No light. No toilet. No place to lay down.

Staring into the tiny space, a shiver passed through her. Then, as she looked at every part of the hiding spot, a pattern began to form. No, not a pattern. Words.

In one place they said, Vere, I never wanted to hurt you.

In another, it was written, I only thought that if Galen wasn't around, that you might want a life of diplomacy instead.

And in another, Please forgive me, Vere. I never meant to hurt you. It was a lapse I've regretted every day since then.

At another, In destinies sad or merry, true men can but try.

For almost every hour of every day he had needed to be perfectly quiet. But the few times Modred left the room or was asleep, her father had written messages to her.

Please, don't remember me that way, Vere. Remember the father who played games with you and laughed with you, not the one who said something he regrets. Not the one you might find in this room one day.

All around the secret compartment there were messages about how much he had loved her mother but had also been lonely after she died; messages about being proud of Vere no matter where she was or what she was doing; messages about knowing she was capable of great things.

She thought to say she would make him proud. She thought to tell him that everyone in the CasterLan Kingdom would remember him as a true king of the people. But when she looked down to speak, she said none of it, only smiled as another tear made its way down her cheek.

She sat there on the ground with him, his head in her lap, until she thought of what she really wanted to say.

When she was ready, she started, "These are all the things I've wanted to tell you the past six years," and she kept talking until after the last bit of the sun had gone down and all that was left were the outlines of mountains in the distance.

When she did finally leave the king's chambers, Hector was there waiting for her. Pistol was coming down the hallway as well.

"The Vonnegan army?" she said.

Hector came to her side and said, "There are a couple Athens Destroyers remaining and a few ground troops that escaped and are hiding in various parts of the city. We'll find them. Other than that, the battle is over."

Pistol walked in silence, neither needing nor wanting recognition.

"Lady Percy?" she asked.

Hector frowned. "We found her in her quarters. Dead by her own hand."

"It must have devastated her to realize what her son had done."

"All of this is so senseless," Hector said.

As they walked, she put one hand on the android's shoulder and the other on Hector's.

"We'll need to have a ceremony," she said.

"I can begin arrangements for a traditional king's funeral," Pistol said.

She shook her head. "Not just for the king. For everyone who died. The king is only one of many who are no longer with us. We won't forget a single one."

And then they got on the lift to return down to the main levels of the capital.

  1. 90

Inside the control room, Morgan continued to coordinate the ground battle to fight off the limited number of Vonnegan troopers who had been able to get off the Athens Destroyer. There were reports all over the city of Vonnegan troops running through the streets, taking prisoners where they could find them, and trying to bargain for their freedom.

"If there has ever been a reason to celebrate," Fastolf said, producing a flask from his pocket and offering it to Morgan.

Her first instinct was to ask him if he had learned anything from the past week, but then she thought better of it and took a sip before handing it back.

"To the future kingdom," she said.

A noise came from behind Fastolf—a Vonnegan trooper at the control room door, his blaster pointed at them.

She could have reached for her own blaster but she knew she would be dead by the time she grabbed and aimed it. The only thing in Fastolf's hands would get the trooper intoxicated rather than kill him.

The trooper's helmet swiveled slightly to calculate the threat levels of Fastolf and Morgan. Judging that Morgan was much more of a danger than a fat, unarmed man, he aimed the weapon at her.

Rather than ducking or pleading her case, she merely sat in her chair and stared at the blaster pointed at her. The trooper pulled the trigger. A laser blast went past her face, singeing her hair and burning her ear. Before he could adjust his aim, the trooper was on the ground, a hole in his back and smoke billowing out of his armor.

A blaster in his hand, Baldwin stepped through the doorway and looked at the man he had just killed.

Morgan ran a finger across her burnt ear, then said, "A little quicker next time, okay?"

"Next time?"

But she was already facing the consoles again, giving orders to the ground forces.

  1. 91

CamaLon's city center and the king's chambers loomed over the assembly. Even higher, outside the planet's atmosphere, there was only emptiness where the Tevis-84 portal had once been. It had been there for hundreds of years, and for everyone on Edsall Dark, it was shocking to look up at the sky and not see it there.

Generations of mothers and fathers of all species had taken their young out in the fields so they could see the night sky and tell their children stories of the portal and of the first time they remembered going through a field of energy and appearing in another solar system. Now it was gone.

During the assembly, however, no one paid attention to its absence. Instead, tens of thousands of people gathered on the same fields that Vere and the others had crossed on their way back to the capital. They were there to pay their respects to a fallen king, Artan the Good, and to all of the thousands of people who had died in battle to save the CasterLan Kingdom.

In accordance with Vere's directions, no one was given more acclaim than anyone else. For each person who had died, someone who had known them came to the podium and said a single sentence about them.

Hector's energy platform carried him across the stage, where he spoke of his nephew. He said that while there were victors in battle there were never victors in war. His nephew had been forced to understand that at much too young an age.

Baldwin took to the podium to speak on his brother's behalf, saying, "We disagreed on whether medicine or the military could do more good for the CasterLan Kingdom, but what's important is that we both did what we had to do to help the people we love."

When it came time for someone to say something about Hotspur, Morgan walked up to the podium. The crowd was restless at the thought of anyone daring to say something positive about Hotspur after what he had done. On Morgan's hip, as she walked to the podium, was the Meursault blade Vere's father had carried, the same one Modred had used against the king's daughter in battle. There was no one else, Vere had said, who was more deserving of it than Morgan.

Of Hotspur, Morgan said, "His entire career was dedicated to being considered a great general, but what exactly makes one great?" and then she left the stage without saying anything else. The crowd was left to think of their own answers and to decide for themselves how Hotspur should be remembered.

When it came time to say something about the king, Vere didn't speak about the ruler he had been, but merely said, "He was the greatest father I could have asked for."

If anyone in the audience didn't know who she was they would have had no idea she was speaking about a king at all.

Of Modred, one of his childhood teachers said he had possessed all the potential in the galaxy. Of Lady Percy, Vere said that she wished she had given the woman more of a chance to show what kind of person she really was.

The ceremony went on for an entire day and night. Through it all, Fastolf sat in the back of the crowd, sneaking sips from his flask. When it came time to say something about Occulus, he shouted that he wanted to speak and ran to the podium.

"He was the voice of reason," Fastolf said, "and a true friend."

Toward the end, A'la Dure's name was mentioned and Vere made her way back to the podium yet again. "She said more with two words than most people say their entire lives."

Fastolf, Morgan, Baldwin, and Traskk all greeted her with hugs when she was done, and together, along with Pistol, they made their way back to the Forest of Tears to give their friends the proper burials that Vere had promised them.

There were other things she would have to do as well. She would go see what was left of the Griffin Fire. She would have to find out about Mortimous and Galen and the Word. Most of all, she would have to discover for herself if all of the things Galen had said were true. After all, a knight had not only risen after being dead for a thousand years, he had picked his severed head off the ground and put it back atop his neck. Vere realized there really were things going on in the galaxy that she knew nothing about.

She would, though. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but one day, she would.

  1. 92

Far away, in a distant solar system, a man, tall and lean, stood at a window looking out at the evening sky. The horizon, where the sun was setting, looked like purple fruit drenched in blood. Further up, near the clouds, the sky resembled the color of the finest purple tapestries of the Vonnegan Empire. In front of the man stood the metal high-rises, stretching as far as the eye could see. Each building was designed in an architectural style that made it look like it was wearing armor, and each building reflected the evening sky in a way that made the entire planet look like a purple sphere.

A cloaked advisor entered the room without making a noise.

The man at the window, too statuesque and towering to be human, with skin the color of the buildings that were all around him, asked for the latest report.

"There were no survivors, My Lord."

"General Agravan's ship?"

"Destroyed, My Lord."

"Anything else?"

"They also destroyed the portal."

The man standing at the window pondered this for a moment, then said, "I want a new fleet constructed. Twice as large as the last. No, three times."

"Your Excellency, without the portal, it will take years for any ship to get there."

Mowbray Vonnegan, ruler of the Vonnegan Empire, turned and faced his advisor, bright purple eyes shining as if electric. He advanced on the small, trembling man who had not only just informed him of the loss of both his fleet and his only son, but had also had the nerve to question him. Then he smiled, revealing sharp white teeth, and said, "Then we had better get started building them tonight, hadn't we?"

The advisor, relieved, nodded and left.

Alone in his throne room, Mowbray said, "When I am through with them, they will wish they had let themselves be conquered the first time. The entire CasterLan Kingdom, every planet, every colony, every home, will have the Vonnegan War Hawk flying above it. This, I swear."

The adventure continues in Book 2 of the Space Lore trilogy...

The Excalibur

Six years ago, two fleets met in a battle that changed the course of the galaxy. In the time since, the CasterLan Kingdom and the Vonnegan Empire have been rebuilding their forces. The clock is ticking down to another inevitable confrontation.

In the face of insurmountable odds, Vere CasterLan's only hope lies in freeing a legendary weapon from the stone that encases it. It has been said that whoever can free the Excalibur will possess unimaginable power. The only problem, as certain death approaches, is that for thousands of years no one has been able to figure out how to release the Excalibur from the asteroid surrounding it.

In this second volume of the Space Lore trilogy, lives will be lost, kingdoms will be redrawn, and the galaxy will never be the same.

Purchase your copy today

Acknowledgments

As always, I am indebted to many people for their support: Jodie McFadden, for her constant encouragement and optimism; Matt Butterweck, for his eagle eye and his comments on the story; my parents and brother for their support; and everyone on GoodReads and in the BJJ and MMA communities who read my other novels and recommended them to their friends. That is the only way that books like mine have the chance to be successful, and I'm eternally grateful for their support.

I would also like to thank all of the artists who were willing to devote their time and creative energy to designing the characters and places described in this book. Ever since I first saw Ralph McQuarrie's sketches for the aliens and ships in the original Star Wars trilogy, I've wanted to create a world where artists could bring to life the concepts described throughout the adventure. Thank you to Tim, Zaina, Charlie, Edward, Molly, Leila, and Grosnez for doing just that.

Want to receive updates on my future books? Sign up for my newsletter at: http://chrisdietzel.com/mailing_list/
About the Author

Chris graduated from Western Maryland College (McDaniel College). He currently lives in Florida. His dream is to write the same kind of stories that have inspired him over the years.

His short stories have been published in Foliate Oak, Temenos, and Down in the Dirt. His others novels have become Amazon Science Fiction Best Sellers, been featured on the Authors on the Air radio network, and been required reading at the university level.
About the Artists

Tim Barton – Tim is a digital artist known for his stunning and colorful space artwork. He does his work in Adobe Photoshop and creates 3D scenes in Terragen. His full gallery of artwork can be viewed at http://www.cosmicspark.deviantart.com.

Molly Evans – Molly is majoring in art history and studio art at the University of Maryland. She specializes in painting and illustration. Her inspirations are the concepts of the female identity as well as the places she has traveled around the world. Her website is: http://mollyevansart.weebly.com/

Charlie and Edward Gallagher – Charlie graduated from the University of Richmond with a BA in Studio Art, with a concentration in painting. His brother, Edward, graduated from the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) with a BFA in Graphic Design. Edward's areas of interest are painting and illustration. His website is:  www.edwardcgallagher.com

Grosnez – Grosnez is a concept artist from France. He was a traditional painter before becoming a self-taught digital illustrator. His website is: https://www.artstation.com/artist/grosnez

Zaina.A – Zaina is a self-taught artist and illustrator who specializes in fantastic and magical characters. She was born on Mauritius Island and is fluent in five languages. Her website is: http://www.zaina.space

Leila ElManfaa – Leila is a self-taught artist specializing in melancholic and moody designs. She was inspired by the old masters, particularly Renaissance, Baroque, and pre-Raphaelites. Nearly all of her work ties somewhere into stories and fairytales that she has read. Her website is: https://bethaleil.deviantart.com.
