Authors: Zachary Jones

Refusing Excalibur (31 page)

BOOK: Refusing Excalibur

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Victor smirked. “No deal.”

“No deal?” Marsh appeared shocked, then he smiled again. “Ah, you want more, don’t you?” He chuckled. “Mercenaries. All right. If you don’t like my offer, then just name your price.”

“There's nothing you have that I want, Quintus,” Victor said.

“I am still a king,” Marsh said, managing to muster up an air of regal disapproval. “You will address me as such.”

“What you are is a tyrant,” Victor said. “And a murderer.”

“A murderer!” Marsh laughed. “I’ve killed a lot of people in my time, that’s true. But so have you.”

Victor shook his head. “It’s not the multitudes who have died under your rule I’m referring to.” He took a step forward, forcing Marsh to back up until his legs hit the couch behind him, and the ample royal bottom fell into the cushions. He pitched his voice low, so none of the others in the bunker would hear him. “Just one.”

“One? Did I kill someone important to you? I’m very sorry then. But this is a war,” Marsh said.

“This was before the current war. Years ago. You should remember. A diplomat from a world being besieged by the Lysandran Empire came to your court to beg for your help. You had him and everyone with him beheaded. Then you sent their heads back to their homeworld.”

A glint of recognition appeared in his eyes. “The Savannah diplomat? Who was he to you?”

“My brother,” Victor said. In one motion, he drew his variblade, formed it into a longsword, and struck off King Quintus Marsh’s head. He didn’t so much as flinch from the hot blood striking his face. He just watched the king’s head bounce off the royal belly and land at his feet, its face staring up at him in shock.

As the people screamed in the bunker, Victor opened a channel to the
Waynesburg
. “This is Blackhand. King Marsh is dead.”

“Roger that, Blackhand. I assume you have proof?” Harlan Quill said.

Victor reached down with both hands and picked up the severed head. “Yes, and witnesses as well.”

“Then you should show it to the Mohawkers before they kill us all,” Harlan said.

Chapter 16

The death of King Quintus Marsh caused a sudden and total collapse of resistance in the Mohawk system.

At the jump points, warships that had stubbornly defended the system jettisoned their weapons and powered down their drives. On the ground, around the royal palace of the recently deceased king, the army assembling to retake it surrendered to the Mustanger soldiers they so vastly outnumbered.

Within ten hours of the hollowed-out asteroid jumping in, the war between the Free World Alliance and the Kingdom of Mohawk was over. Not a bad day’s work, as far as Victor was concerned.

He stood on the palace’s highest balcony, wiping the king’s blood from his face as Alliance landing ships set down in the distance to deliver occupation troops into the capital city.

A clean victory. With hardly any civilian casualties or collateral damage to the planet’s infrastructure.

And yet Victor didn’t feel the catharsis he had thought he would by slaying his brother’s murderer. Just a slight satisfaction, the kind one gets from taking care of some small, noisome chore before they dealt with more important matters.

The man who had burned Savannah and left Victor a childless widower was still alive. But with the Mohawk War out of the way, it would only be a matter of time before the Alliance challenged, or was challenged by, the Lysandran Empire.

“Enjoying the view, I see,” Harlan Quill said as he walked up next to Victor.

“I suppose,” Victor said. He nodded toward the landing ships. “How does it feel to win your first war?”

Harlan nodded. “Good. It feels good. How about you? How does it feel to win a war?”

Victor shrugged. “I’ll let you know when your father transfers the money into my account.”

Harlan chuckled. “I would say that will be money well earned. You saved a lot of lives today.”

“Credit where it’s due, Harlan. You were the one who ran the operation,” Victor said.

“And you’re the one who planned it and then personally joined the ground team,” Harlan said. “That makes you a hero.”

Victor shook his head. “Heroes don’t kill people for money. I’m just an…unusually motivated mercenary.”

Harlan nodded. “So, do you plan on killing Magnus Lacano the same way you killed Quintus Marsh?”

“If I get the chance to,” Victor said. “Though a swift decapitation would be too good for him.”

“You know,” Harlan said, “we could capture him and put him on trial. Lay out his crimes for the galaxy to see. His punishment can serve as a warning for any other tyrant who thinks they can get away with killing an entire planet.”

Victor recalled the dead worlds the old man had showed him all those years ago and tried to hold back a sneer. “No offense, but, considering your world refused to help mine when it asked, I don’t really think you have the right to try him.”

Guilt showed on Harlan’s face. “I understand.” He leaned on the railing, mimicking Victor’s stance. “I was a lieutenant commander when your brother arrived on Mustang to petition the High Council for help.”

“Yeah, I know how that story ended,” Victor said.

Harlan turned to Victor. “I won’t say I pressured my father to help your world, because that would be a lie. I didn’t think it was our fight at the time. But seeing how that ended,…I want you to know that, while nothing will bring your world back, I vow I will never allow another world to share Savannah’s fate. Not if I have the power to stop it.”

Victor chuckled. Harlan sounded like the kind of person the old man was looking for. The kind of person Victor was not. “Well, if there were more people like you in the Alliance, Harlan, maybe there’s a chance of that happening.”

Harlan grinned. “I’m just a well-connected naval officer, Victor. It will take more than people like me to save the galaxy.”

“Well, if people like you can’t save the galaxy, then I guess we’re all fucked,” said Victor.

“No, not while there are people like you around,” said Harlan.

Victor leaned away from the railing and looked Harlan in the eye. “And what do you mean by
people like me
?”

“Heroes.”

***

“Are you a hero, Daddy?” asked Alex.

Victor looked around, seeing the vineyards of the Selan estate and the shore of Lake Valor. He saw no sign of Gina. Every other time he dreamed of his dead homeworld, she was there.

“Daddy!” Alex said, indignant at being ignored.

Victor looked down and stared at the boy, seeing the mix of his and Gina’s features on Alex’s face. Clutched in the boy’s arms was the last gift Victor would ever give his son, the articulated armored figure of the Guardian.

“Daddy?” Alex asked with an expectant look in his eye.

“I’m sorry. What?” Victor said.

The dead boy gave him an annoyed look and said, “Are you a hero, Daddy?”

Hero
. That was the word Harlan Quill had used to describe Victor. But heroes didn’t become hired killers just to pursue a quest for revenge. He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Alex.”

“Why not?” Alex asked.

Victor wasn’t sure how he could explain it to the ghost of a five-year-old. How could he? That a holographic old man had offered Victor the controls to a beautiful and powerful First Civilization warship? That he refused it because he wanted revenge more than anything else? His encounter with the old man seemed so distant that, if Victor didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it was another dream.

He sighed and knelt down to eye level with Alex. Even if it was just a dream, he may as well enjoy some quality time with his son. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to be a hero.”

Alex looked disappointed by Victor’s answer, but then Alex’s eyes brightened as something occurred to him. He held out his toy. “The Guardian can show you!”

Victor barely stifled a laugh. “Has he been telling you about being a hero?”

Alex shook his head. “He doesn’t tell me anything. He just does it.”

A movement caught Victor’s eye. The Guardian’s head turned, the slitted eye holes of its helmet looking right at Victor. The surprise vaulted him right from the dream.

He bolted upright, from Fara’s arms, waking her.

“Another one, huh?” Fara asked. She sat up with him, naked as he was.

Victor nodded. “Yeah.”

“Savannah,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded again. “Like always.”

Fara reached to the nightstand and picked up her tablet. “Well, no point in going back to sleep. Wake-up time is in half an hour.”

“Sorry,” Victor said.

She shook her head. “Don’t be. Bad dreams are hardly the worst trait I’ve had in a lover. Want to talk about it?”

Victor lay back down. Ever since she had first coaxed him into talking about his life back on Savannah, she always asked about his dreams. Well, he still had half an hour to kill. “It was my son this time.”

“Your son? That’s new. You usually dream of your wife,” Fara said.

“You sound disappointed. I would think you’d be relieved,” Victor said.

Fara shook her head. “She was the love of your life. I have nothing against you dreaming about her.” Fara lay down on his chest. “And I know you’ll never love me the same way you love her.”

Victor tried to sit up and say something, but she planted a delicate finger on his lips before he could.

“No, none of that. I’m not being dramatic. I’m simply stating a fact. And it doesn’t bother me at all. Loving a dead woman is also not the worst thing I’ve had in a boyfriend either.”

“You must have had some shitty boyfriends if that is true,” Victor said.

She smirked. “Oh, yeah.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them,” Victor said, though he didn’t really mean it.

She shook her head. “I think not. Now tell me about this dream you had about your son.”

He explained it to her.

“
Hrmm
. Sounds like you’ve been dwelling on what Harlan said.”

“About me being a hero?” Victor asked.

“Yes. It’s clearly bothering you,” Fara said.

Victor shook his head. “It shouldn’t. I know I’m not a hero.”

Fara climbed up his chest and kissed him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. On more than a few occasions your actions could be described as heroic.”

Victor chuckled. “Heroic actions in pursuit of a paycheck.”

“And big fat paychecks too.” Fara chuckled too. “I could retire twice over on the money I’ve earned working for you. Not that I plan on doing that anytime soon. I’m having too much fun.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Victor said.

“Well, I don’t think I could do much better than this,” Fara said.

“I don’t know. I’ve never known a better pilot than you,” Victor said. “You’re good enough to earn your own way almost anywhere.”

She shook her head. “I’m a criminal, remember? I sold military hardware to earn a quick buck and then fled when I was caught. I’m practically a traitor to my people. That kinda limits my opportunities outside of pirates and mercenaries of dubious honor.” She cupped the side of his face. “Falling in with you was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. And I don’t mean the fact that we fuck. That’s just a bonus.”

Victor smiled. “Well, I’m certainly glad to have you around.”

“You’d better be,” she said. The alarm beeped in the background. Fara smiled. “Time to get up.”

***

Victor had two reasons for taking a shuttle over to the
Gryphon
. First was to meet with High Councilor Quill, per his request. Second, and more important, to see how Gaz was recovering in the battleship’s vast med bay.

The progress reports Victor had received from the ship’s doctors had been remarkable. Apparently, among the slew of traits that had been engineered into Gaz, an accelerated healing ability had been one of them. Combined with the state-of-the-art medical gear on the
Gryphon
, Gaz’s progress was nothing short of miraculous. If the progress continued, Victor would have his friend back on duty within a couple months.

After docking, Victor traveled from the shuttle bay to Holace Quill’s office. Victor wasn’t surprised to see Captain Harlan Quill also there. The younger man rose from his seat to greet Victor.

“Good afternoon, Captain Blackhand,” Harlan said.

“Good afternoon to you too, Captain Quill,” Victor said. He shook Harlan’s hand. “I take it the high councilor has a job for the both of us?”

“You two get results when you work together,” Holace Quill said, smiling. However, the tension in the politician’s eyes told Victor something was up.

BOOK: Refusing Excalibur

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