Read Refusing Excalibur Online
Authors: Zachary Jones
Refusing Excalibur (9 page)
The old man sighed. “Follow me back to the map room, and I’ll show you it’s not spinning well at all.” He turned to leave.
Victor followed, stealing a final glance at the
Excalibur
, before following the old man through the door, but he stopped just short of the map. “So what are you going to show me?”
Excalibur
, before following the old man through the door, but he stopped just short of the map. “So what are you going to show me?”
“Look up and watch.”
When Victor focused on the map, dozens of yellow icons appeared. “What are those?”
“Murdered worlds.”
Victor’s eyes went wide. There must have been a few hundred icons, all across the galaxy. And it was very up-to-date. A yellow icon hovered over Savannah's location. “I don’t believe it.”
“Belief is irrelevant. This is happening, and it must be stopped.”
The map winked out, replaced by a detailed projection of a burned-out planet with a huge crater in its face. Ejecta had formed a crude ring around the world. “Tarlam, destroyed by an asteroid drop,” the old man explained.
The map changed to another world, this one unscarred but with biohazard icons over it. “Tolstoy, virus bombs.”
Two planets appeared next, both covered in countless craters. “Florus and Faunus, interplanetary nuclear bombardment. They killed each other.”
The final world was covered in a shroud of smoke and dust that completely covered the surface. “Savannah, orbital bombardment.”
Victor looked away. “That’s enough.”
The lighting changed as the galaxy map returned. The old man looked sad. “Do you understand?”
Victor stared at the map and all the icons covering it. He nodded. “Worlds are being destroyed.” He looked to the old man. “How long has this been going on?”
“Practically from the moment the gates to Sol collapsed. Worlds get into a war, and often end up fighting for so long and so savagely that destroying their enemy seems like the only solution. That’s what happened to your world, I suspect.”
“Actually,” Victor said, “I think my world was destroyed for more personal reasons. The Lysandran emperor wanted revenge for the deaths of his sons.”
“Yes, well, do you think his subordinates would’ve followed the order to destroy your world if they didn’t also believe Savannah deserved to be destroyed?”
Victor grunted. “I figure they followed his orders because he was their emperor. The Lysandrans exist only to serve the Lacano family.”
“You think so?” asked the old man. “It’s been my observation that even emperors don’t rule without at least the passive support of their subjects.”
“Propaganda, terror, and brainwashing help with that,” Victor said. “However you want to cut it, only one man is responsible for the destruction of my world. Magnus Lacano.”
“Perhaps,” the old man said. “But I’m not interested in assigning guilt. What I want is to stop the bloodshed.”
Victor glared at the old man. “And how do you expect to do that without holding those responsible who would do such things?”
“The problem isn’t evil men ordering the destruction of worlds, not on the large scale. It’s disunity.”
“Disunity? You mean, you think all this is a result of the fall of the First Civilization?” asked Victor.
“Yes. During the time of the First Civilization, not a single world was destroyed. Quite the opposite really. They made worlds. Since its fall, worlds have been dying, and the destruction is accelerating. If not stopped, then I fear there won’t be any habitable worlds left, and any chance of rebuilding the First Civilization dies.
Victor shook his head. “This is unbelievable! You want me to rebuild the First Civilization? Me? With one ship?”
“With time, and my guidance, yes.”
Victor glanced at the collection of red stars on the far side of the galaxy. “What is all that red supposed to mean?”
The old man’s face hardened. “That is a problem for later.”
“One that I’ll have to deal with eventually, I’m sure. If I agree to help. Which I haven’t,” Victor said.
The old man arched an eyebrow. “I assumed that would be a given. I am offering you the chance to prevent other worlds from sharing the fate of Savannah.”
Victor scowled at him. “Savannah was the only world I cared about. Why should I save worlds that did nothing to help mine?”
“It’s not their f—”
“My own brother traveled from world to world, begging for help. All of them refused. He didn’t stop trying to find help until King Quintus Marsh of Mohawk, the last world petitioned for help, cut off my brother’s head and sent it home in a box.”
The old man almost looked shocked. “I didn’t know.”
Victor grunted. “You’re not as omniscient as you like to present yourself, are you?”
The old man shook his head. “I never claimed to be omniscient.”
Victor looked at the galaxy map. “If you want to stop more worlds from dying”—he glanced toward the old man—“then why haven’t you taken the
Excalibur
out yourself?”
Excalibur
out yourself?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated? You seem awfully keen on having someone else do your dirty work,” Victor said.
The old man shook his head. “I couldn’t use
Excalibur
even if I wanted to. She needs the right person. I’m hoping that is you.”
Excalibur
even if I wanted to. She needs the right person. I’m hoping that is you.”
“And what makes you think I’m that person? I can’t see how being a survivor of a destroyed world is a requirement for command,” Victor said.
“It’s not. But I cannot let just anyone command that ship. She’s the only one of her kind left. I can only let someone take her who has the greatest possible chance of success. You’re a born warrior, who has been fighting on starships for over a decade. You also know what it’s like to lose a world. Those, among many other variables, point to you being the right person to command the
Excalibur
.”
Excalibur
.”
Victor’s gaze shifted as he remembered something. “So that’s what you meant when you called me an ace.”
“Yes. Like that particular card, you have properties that suggest a relatively high probability of success.”
Victor gave the old man an incredulous look. “You make it sound like fate has chosen me.”
“It’s not fate. It’s math.”
“Math, right,” Victor said.
The old man shrugged. “Are you willing to help me?”
“Only on one condition,” Victor said.
“I didn’t realize we were negotiating.”
“Well, I am. I’ll help you with this impossible task if you let me use the
Excalibur
to seek out and kill Magnus Lacano,” Victor said.
Excalibur
to seek out and kill Magnus Lacano,” Victor said.
The old man scowled at Victor. “You would use the
Excalibur
for revenge against the Lysandrans?”
Excalibur
for revenge against the Lysandrans?”
“Not the Lysandrans, just him,” Victor said.
“And how would you go about it?”
“Flying to planet Lysander and nuking the Imperial palace from orbit comes to mind,” Victor said.
The old man shook his head. “The
Excalibur
is not invulnerable. Even if she penetrated the empire’s defenses, she wouldn’t make it out. You’d be wasting a priceless starship on pointless revenge.”
Excalibur
is not invulnerable. Even if she penetrated the empire’s defenses, she wouldn’t make it out. You’d be wasting a priceless starship on pointless revenge.”
“It’s all I have left!” Victor sneered at the old man, waving his arm at the map. “You want me to save the galaxy? You let me kill Magus Lacano!”
The old man’s frown deepened, and his brows furrowed. “No.”
Victor scowled at the old man. “Then you can find someone else. I’m not interested.”
The old man was quiet for several long seconds, his eyes shifting as if he were thinking or calculating. “I was mistaken. You’re far too broken to be of use, it seems.” The old man waved his hand.
Victor opened his mouth to respond, but his voice failed. Then darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, and he blacked out.
Chapter 5
For the second time in a row, Victor woke up not knowing where he was. He found himself lying facedown in a soft substrate that smelled of grass. Pushing himself to his knees in a jerking motion, he realized that the substrate was, in fact, grass.
“What the—?” Victor looked around. Above him, the stars shone bright and clear. He was on a planet and a habitable one too. Cool and clean air filled his lungs with every breath, and reminded him far too much of the night breeze coming off Lake Valor.
He shoved aside the memories of his lost home with ruthless strength. He didn’t need those now.
Instead he focused on the obvious questions. Where was he and how did he get here?
It occurred to him to check his clothing. It was hard to tell colors in the dim light, but Victor wore a shirt, pants, and a sturdy jacket. Searching through the jacket’s pockets, he found a currency card. The counter on the front showed fifty thousand universal credits.
Victor grunted and put away the card. At least he wouldn’t starve, assuming he could find his way to civilization.
He looked around. Turned out that wouldn’t be all that hard. In the distance, gleaming towers reached to the sky. Their triangular architecture was unfamiliar to Victor, but their presence showed he had not been dropped off in the middle of the boonies but on a city’s outskirts. A big one, by the looks of it.
He walked toward the towers, soon finding a road. The occasional ground vehicle passed by him as he moved toward the city lights. For a moment, he considered hitchhiking, but the cool air was pleasant, and he needed time to think.
He had been dropped off in an upscale suburb. Mansions lined either side of the road, with well-kept grounds and architecture keen on showing off the wealth of their owners.
Victor was not standing on a poor world.
Eventually he came upon an Autotaxi sign written in universal language across the top. Victor sighed in relief. He was on a world that spoke the same language he did. That would make things simpler.
After studying the terminal for a minute, he inserted his card into the reader and hit the button to summon a taxi. Five credits disappeared from the card, and, a few minutes later, a tiny one-person autotaxi pulled up.
The door opened, and Victor climbed inside.
“Destination?” asked the autocab.
Victor jumped back in his seat. The autocabs on Savannah didn’t talk. “Uh? Downtown?”
“Acknowledged. Destination, downtown Marksburg.” The autocab took off, following the road toward the towers.
Victor didn’t recognize the city’s name. “Autocab?”
“Yes, valued customer?”
“What planet is this?” Victor asked.
“This is the planet Mustang, valued customer.”
That name he did know. Mustang was the wealthiest of the Free Worlds, thanks to its star being located in a junction of several important trade routes.
He recalled the planet’s government was officially a republic, but in name only. It had long since transformed into an oligarchy. Almost all the Free Worlds were ruled by a privileged few, if they weren't ruled by a single autocrat.
Still Mustang was reputed to be one of the more pleasant of the Free Worlds; its rulers focused more on making money than terrorizing their citizens.
They were also mortal enemies with another heavyweight of the Free Worlds, the planet Mohawk and its self-proclaimed king. The enmity between the worlds was simple to understand. Where Mustang was a center for merchants, Mohawk was a home to pirates and slavers.
As the autotaxi made its way to the city, Victor leaned forward in his seat to consider his options.
The money on his card was enough that he could probably buy a ticket on a charter vessel to Lysander. But then what? Storm the Imperial palace on his own? Victor wouldn’t be surprised if his face was saved in the memory banks of every Lysandran security system. He’d be detected the moment he set foot on Lysandran soil. Assuming he even got that far.
He could just give up; a little under fifty thousand credits was enough to start a new life. But he didn’t want a new life, he wanted his old one. He would have to settle for revenge.
Victor rubbed his chin, feeling a solid layer of stubble growing over it. Mustang was more than just a trade center; mercenaries looking for work gathered here. Victor's father had considered hiring some, if the Mustangers would've let him.
As a former starship captain with a decade of combat experience, Victor figured he likely had the skills a mercenary outfit would find valuable.
Becoming a mercenary could gain Victor a crew of his own, specifically chosen for killing the Lysandran emperor. That process would take time, but it was a start. Better than just giving up at least.
The only question was, where to find the point of entry into mercenary trade? “Autocab, change of destination. Take me to the nearest spaceport.”
“That will incur a five-credit extra charge, valued customer,” the autocab said, a terminal beside Victor lighting up for him to insert his card.
“Do it.”
“Affirmative. New destination, Marksburg Spaceport.” The autocab took a ramp, and soon Victor saw the spaceport looming before him.
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