Authors: Zachary Jones

Refusing Excalibur (53 page)

BOOK: Refusing Excalibur

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“It is if it makes sure a Lysandran emperor never threatens the Free Worlds again,” Quill said. “It is if it brings justice to the hundreds of millions of people they murdered when they destroyed Savannah.”

“I’d say the Lysandrans are pretty well declawed, High Councilor,” Victor said. “And your talk of justice reeks of hypocrisy.” He pointed at each Alliance representative in turn. “Each and every one of your worlds refused Savannah’s request for help during their war with Lysander. Mohawk even went so far as to execute their diplomats and send their heads back home as a way of saying no.” Victor was glad the warsuit concealed his face, keeping his expression invisible to the Free Worlders. “High Councilor, what you and your allies are trying to do, what I’ll stop you all from doing, has nothing to do with justice or defense or any other platitudes you can voice. It’s about revenge…and fear.”

“I’d say we have a right to be afraid, and the thousands of people who died defending the Free Worlds from Lysandran aggression deserve to be avenged,” Holace Quill said.

“Does that include your son?” Victor asked.

The high councilor took a step back, then his brows narrowed. “How do you know that?”

“It’s no secret,” Victor said. “And, as you will find out, few things escape my notice. Like the fact you already knew the Lysandrans were coming. Uther Solari told you. And yet you sent your son to scout for them, just to make sure he would get the credit for finding them.”

“Who are you?” Holace Quill whispered. “How can you possibly know that?”

“Easy enough to figure out,” Victor said. “I know Uther Solari tipped you off as part of his plan to overthrow the Lacano dynasty. I also know that, by all measures, your son, Harlan Quill, was a good man. The fact he died—simply because you wanted to give him the chance at more glory—was a tragedy.”

“Yes, it was,” Quill said.

“And how do you think committing an atrocity will make up for that?” Victor asked.

“There's more to it than that!” Quill said.

“No, there isn’t,” Victor said. “You wish to destroy a world to avenge the death of your son, just like Magnus Lacano destroyed Savannah to avenge the death of his sons. Tell me, High Councilor, what would Harlan think if he were here today to see his father become just like the man Harlan died fighting against?”

Holace Quill shook his head. “I am nothing like Magnus Lacano!”

“Look at yourself, High Councilor.” Victor addressed the gathered Alliance representatives. “Look at all yourselves! What good is it to defeat the Lysandrans if you become just like them? Well?”

Chancellor Forsythe of Tabor stepped forward. He was the only other Alliance head of state present. “Maybe we were…hasty in our course of action. High Councilor Quill, I think perhaps it is time for Tabor’s ships to return home.”

Quill rounded on Forsythe. “Return home? We have Lysander in sight, and you want to leave?”

“I think the Alliance has more than appropriately demonstrated its superiority over the Lysandran Empire,” Forsythe said, then he looked up at Victor. “And I see no reason to incur the wrath of a First Civilization warrior.”

“Yes,…yes, I agree,” said a representative from the Free World of Vespa. “I think it best for our forces to retire to home space.”

Like watching a tide wane, the resolve drained from the room. Representatives from each member of the Free Worlds’ Alliance joined with Forsythe, saying their ships should return home, except for Holace Quill.

“You’re all weak!” Holace Quill said. “Mustang will finish this alone if we must.”

“Sir!” a Mustanger admiral said. “Our ships alone would be evenly matched against the Lysandran Home Fleet.” He gave a nervous glance toward Victor. “And if we have to fight him too…”

Quill sneered at the officer. “Admiral…”

“It’s over, High Councilor,” Victor said. “You have this one last chance. Turn your fleet around. Let your people go home to celebrate their victory. Let yourself grieve for your son.”

Holace Quill snarled at Victor. “And what would you know of loss, Guardian?”

“More than you would understand,” Victor said, speaking with complete honesty for the first time since he had entered the room. “I woke up in a galaxy where everything I loved, everything I knew, was gone. And there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“So why are you here?” Quill asked.

“I know I can’t bring back”—he almost said
Savannah
—“the Union, the First Civilization as you people call it, but I can at least try to keep things from getting any worse than they already are.”

“Aren’t you a bit late for that?” Quill asked.

“Very,” Victor said. “But that’s no excuse not to try.”

Quill stared daggers at Victor. “Admiral.”

“Yes, High Councilor?”

Quill sighed, his resolve melting away. “Order our ships to cease advancing on Lysander. As soon as the
Gryphon
’s drives are repaired, I want the fleet to set course for the jump point. We’re going home.”

“Yes, sir,” the admiral said.

Quill pointed at Victor. “And, as for you, get the hell off my ship!”

Chapter 33

She waited at the airlock while the Guardian’s shuttle docked in the hangar next to the
Daisy Mae
. As soon as the doors parted, Lysandra ran forward and wrapped her arms around his armor torso and squeezed.

Despite all the layers of ancient and advanced armor, the surprise in his body language was clear as day. “Princess?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said. The Guardian’s armor poked her in places, but she didn’t care. She was far too grateful to the man who, despite having every reason to hate her world, had saved it.

The Guardian gently pushed her away. “There’s no need to thank me, Princess.”

“You are so unbelievably wrong on that,” Lysandra said. “If there’s anything you want of me, anything at all, ask.”

“Are you sure of that, Princess?” the Guardian asked. “Because you may not like what I ask of you.”

Lysandra lifted her chin. “I’m as sure as I’ve ever been in my life.”

The Guardian nodded. “If you insist, Princess. Old man!”

The wrinkled avatar of the old man appeared next to her. “Guardian, ‘Emperor’ Uther Solari is contacting you. Apparently he wishes to express his gratitude at your assistance.”

“You know I’m aware of that,” the Guardian said.

“I am. So why haven’t you answered?” the old man asked.

“I assume you monitored Solari’s communications with High Councilor Quill?” Victor asked.

A gray eyebrow arched. “Yes, my deep scouts have recorded the exchanges between them. Why?”

“Deep scouts?” Lysandra asked.

“Highly advanced and very stealth probes of First Civilization vintage,” said the Guardian. “The old man has thousands of them monitoring the galaxy. Now, old man, you wouldn’t happen to have a copy of those exchanges, would you?”

“I do,” the old man said.

“Then broadcast that data to every receiver in the Lysander system,” the Guardian said.

Lysandra stepped back in shock. “You’re exposing him? Why?”

“To get him out of the way,” the Guardian said.

“Out of the way of what?” asked Lysandra.

The Guardian looked down at her, her face reflected in the lenses of his eye slits. “Your coronation,
Empress
.”

***

The traitorous pretender, Uther Solari, didn’t survive a day after the Guardian broadcast proof of his treason to everyone on Lysander.

Abandoned by the officers he had placed in control of the Home Fleet and planetary garrison, he died at the hands of his own bodyguards.

As soon as his death was confirmed, Lysandra boarded one of the
Excalibur
’s stealth shuttles with the Guardian and flew to the planet’s surface.

They weren’t detected until the shuttle landed on the front lawn of the Imperial palace.

Palace guards swarmed around the black wedge-shaped craft, their weapons readied.

Lysandra wasn’t sure what to expect when she walked down the boarding ramp with the Guardian striding to her right. Lena, who insisted she would come along, clutched Lysandra’s hand.

One of the guards, a first lieutenant, lowered his rifle, his eyes wide. “Princess Lysandra?”

She nodded. “Yes, it’s me.”

He nodded to the Guardian. “What is that?”

She gestured to the armored figure. “This is the Guardian, the last soldier of the First Civilization and the savior of Lysander.”

The lieutenant nodded slowly, not sure what to make of it all. “W-We will have to verify your identity, Princess.”

Lysandra nodded. “Of course.”

The officer ordered one of his men to fetch a medical scanner.

Lena leaned into Lysandra’s left ear and whispered, “So they won’t shoot us?”

“No, at least not when they know I am who I claim I am,” Lysandra said.

“Okay,” Lena said, the tremble in her voice betraying her nervousness.

Lysandra was nervous too. Unlike the Guardian, she and Lena weren’t wearing suits of First Civilization armor.

Finally an Imperial guard/medic arrived with a scanner. Running the scanner over her hand, he studied its display and said, “It’s her.”

She wasn’t sure how, but every guard in the courtyard seemed to hear that statement. Almost all at once, they knelt.

***

“Well, that was a lovely coronation,” the old man said. The
Excalibur
loitered high above Lysander in a synchronous orbit above the Imperial capital of New Pergamum.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Victor said as he gazed through the
Excalibur
’s sensors at the world he had saved. Lysander was a beautiful world, he had to admit to himself, especially at night as the lights of its cities illuminated the planet’s land masses.

“I’m still more than a little surprised you wanted the daughter of the man who destroyed your world to take the throne,” the old man said. “Solari probably would have worked with you.”

“I wouldn’t work with him. He supported Magnus’ decision to burn Savannah,” Victor said. “And, besides, I think having Lysandra Lacano on the throne will be better for the Lysandran Empire.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” the old man said. “Still, acting in the interest of the Lysandran Empire is more than what I expected of you.”

“I have no love for the empire,” Victor said. “But a stable empire with a grateful monarch on the throne will be an asset in the long run.”

“And what is the long run for you?” the old man asked.

“Fixing our broken galaxy, just as you wanted,” Victor said.

The old man smiled and nodded. “In that case, what’s the first step?”

“The first step? Taking the
Excalibur
back to the Stone for repairs,” Victor said. “And after that? I thought I’d see about fostering a lasting peace between the Free Worlds and the Lysandran Empire.”

“A sound plan, I think,” the old man said. He turned and stared at the galaxy map display on the bridge and let out a long sigh.

Victor tilted his head. “What is that about?”

“Oh, nothing,” the old man said. “I’m just enjoying a feeling I haven’t had in a while.”

“Feelings? You have those?” Victor asked.

“Oh, yes,” the old man said.

“So what’s this feeling you’re having now?” Victor asked.

The old man turned to face Victor, his eyes glistening.

“Hope.”

BOOK: Refusing Excalibur

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