Chapter 15 - Part I

(Aleron)

#

The young man seated behind his photon console looked back at me over his right shoulder.

“Contact confirmed, Sire.”

My gaze was enraptured by the visuals displayed on multiple holovid screens floating at the head of the circular Tactical Operation room, each one offering a window into the massacre of machines taking place at the hands of the white winged angel.

The carnage was happening within the upper level of the Old Docks in an area a half kilometer away from the Harbor Tunnel.

A further kilometer away, our ship the Albion floated near the Harbor Tunnel’s ceiling. The vessel was commissioned for construction with my share of the family fortune, and custom built by the Sandoval ship-builders. At a hundred and twenty-two meters long, she was classified as an armed private yacht, though in truth she was a multipurpose starship. I had other plans for her, but for now, she served as Section Zero’s mobile base of operations.

One of the Albion’s key features was the Tactical Operations room situated not far from the cocoon shaped bridge. The circular Tactical room had five operations stations, essentially floating photon consoles operated by seated Section Zero specialists. Galahad manned one, while the other four were operated by a female techs in white uniforms. Although holovid bubbles could be projected anywhere in the room, and holovid screens on any part of the curved wall, the screens now occupied the ‘forward’ quarter of the Tactical room’s interior wall.

Seated on my throne-like chair that rested atop a raised dais in the center of the room, I regarded the moving images before me.

Is it her? I wondered. Yes, it has to be her.

Elbows atop the armrests and my chin propped on my laced fingers, I glanced down to my eleven clock at the young man seated behind his photon console, and cleared my throat quickly.

“Sir Galahad, how many drones remaining?”

“Less than half, Sire. At this rate, we’ll lose the remainder within another minute.”

On one holovid window, the battle played out in replay and at a much slower rate, allowing us to see movements the naked eye would fail to capture. An angel with four wings sliced apart drones as it leapt past them, cutting them with a short spear that resembled two broadswords attached end-to-end by their pommels. The image was remarkably clear despite the speed with which the winged angel moved.

I was momentarily distracted by the sound of high-heeled boots stepping up to my chair, and glanced to my right to see Guinevere standing beside the chair, her arms folded below her sumptuous bosom. Dressed in a black, seamless bodysuit that exposed a generous amount of cleavage, she reminded of a comic book villainess, for indeed her origins were less than honorable. However, the flowing white coat she wore over the bodysuit, bearing the crimson Pendragon coat-of-arms, lent an air of nobility to her overall appearance.

It also identified her as a knight of Section Zero.

The girl I took in off the streets all those years ago is now a fine young woman.

I nodded inwardly, repressing my pride in her.

Next, to see her married into a prominent family worthy of her talents.

Guinevere cleared her throat softly. “I’m rather glad we bought those outdated, derelict drones at below bargain price from the Enforcer Division.”

I nodded gently in agreement. “Our budget for the year would have taken a serious hit from this operation alone.”

“However,” she continued softly, “it was worth the expense…of drawing her out….”

I heard the muted crack of tendons as she clenched her hands into fists.

“She killed one of us,” Guinevere whispered, “so it’s fitting she dies by our hands.”

I shook my head sharply. “No, we need her alive. I don’t particularly mind in what state. Even if it’s just her head and torso, but nonetheless, I need her alive.”

To the left of my throne chair stood a young man attired in the white uniform of Section Zero. Like Guinevere, he too wore a flowing white coat with the Pendragon coat-of-arms emblazoned on it. Arms folded across his chest, his preternaturally wide field-of-vision allowed him to monitor multiple screens at once without having to shift his keen eyes.

He broke his silence with softly spoken words. “Why did she stay here in the Old Docks? If I was her, I would have fled into the habitats, or left Pharos altogether. Dianna may have been a junior member of Section Zero, but she was Public Security nonetheless. Why kill her and yet wait for us to come looking for her?”

Guinevere took a half step forward. “I agree. Despite the extent of security monitoring the habitats, our Lorelai are at war with Crescent’s Lorelai, meaning that we can’t trust our surveillance systems since we don’t know what’s real and what’s not real.”

I pressed my lips together into a thin line.

Guinevere spoke the truth. The war between Lorelai had left our eyes and ears within Pharos doubting everything they saw and heard. Truth became illusion. Illusion became truth. Separating fact from fiction, the unreal from the real, was a massive undertaking that consumed the efforts of entire divisions.

That was the Lorelai’s greatest threat to our peace and security – its ability to rewrite information stored in electronic or photronic mediums. Though there was progress toward developing systems resistant to a Lorelai’s influence, their use was not widespread, and barely beyond the prototype stage. As such, it was possible for Crimson Crescent’s cells to operate within the habitats of Pharos without the need to slink about under the cover of artificial night.

I cleared my throat discreetly. “It’s because she was expecting us to come.”

Guinevere sounded incredulous. “Why in the High Heavens do that?”

I sighed under my breath. “Because she’s not very smart. She’s undoubtedly hiding something or someone, and expected to intercept us well away from whatever or whomever she’s protecting.” I paused before adding, “Sir Galahad, instruct the second wave of drones to widen their search area. Focus on the middle level of the Old Docks.”

At his station, Galahad nodded. “Aye, sire.”

“And us?” Guinevere asked.

I looked up and saw her regarding me through narrowed eyes. “You and Sir Gawain will take to the lower level. I’ll assign to you a drone detachment to serve as your scouts.”

She threw a glance at the young man standing to the left of my throne chair. “Very well.”

Galahad spoke up. “Sir, she’s cutting down the last of our drones. The Enforcer Drones have withdrawn from the area.”

I snorted softly. “Why am I not surprised….”

With the last of our drones destroyed, the holovid windows before us went dark.

However, Gawain suddenly stepped forward and pointed at one of the screens. “Galahad—play back the visual that was on holoscreen six. Yes—that one. Play back the last seven seconds before the picture crashed.”

I glanced at him, then focused my attention on the recorded visual playing on the screen.

Something caught my attention on the edge of the screen. It was something in the distance, hiding poorly behind a support column, clad in a white Skin-Regalia, with short wings extending from the core floating at its back.

I stiffened reflexively as I recognized what it was.

Guinevere started to ask, “What are you looking at—?”

“A Siren,” Gawain answered in a low voice, “in Fragment form. Not fully unlocked.”

As expected of Sir Gawain, his eyesight was as sharp as ever. Then again, as a Familiar, he was undoubtedly watching all the screens at once in an Overclocked state.

However, Guinevere looked startled. “What? Where?”

Under Galahad’s deft manipulation, the holovid window centered and zoomed in upon the Siren. I watched the Siren retreat from the column, turn, and then flee by leaping deeper into the Old Docks.

A sudden gasp escaped Guinevere’s lips, and it took me a moment to understand why.

Silver hair trailed behind the Siren.

Distinctive silver hair.

Guinevere whispered, “It can’t be her…can it?”

My heart beat loudly as I stood up slowly from my throne chair. “No…that girl is a confirmed Pureblood.”

“Then this is—?”

“Someone else. Definitely someone else,” I replied, stating the obvious because the situation demanded it. “Guinevere, Gawain. Go. Capture her. That is an order. All other concerns are secondary.”

In the corner of my eye, I saw Gawain turned slightly toward me. “What about the Seraphim?”

“Trust in Lancelot,” I stated firmly. “He’s the only one here that can face that monster.” I pointed at the holovid screen displaying a frozen image of the fleeing Siren. “The two of you bring that woman back alive and in one piece.”

Gawain saluted with a fist to his chest. “As you wish, Sire.”

Guinevere saluted too, but it was distracted and half-hearted. “As you wish….”

However, she turned smoothly on her booted heels and walked to the doors at the ‘back’ of the room, departing Tactical Operations within moments.

With mixed feelings, I swiveled my throne chair around in order to watch her leave.

Gawain held back, and regarded me through lidded eyes. “Something on your mind, Sire?”

“Keep an eye on her, Gawain. Dianna was her junior. As such, I fear Guinevere will do something…rash.”

Favoring me with a calm nod, he said, “I’ll watch over her, Sire.” Then he walked to the doors and exited the room shortly thereafter.

Taking a deep and troubled breath, I swiveled my chair to face the front of the Tactical room, and watched as a new set of holovid screens came to life.

The second wave of drones was now entering the middle level of the Old Docks.

However, a small detachment our drones approached the upper level where the one sided slaughter had taken place.

Standing on tapered, pointy feet in the middle of the mechanical carnage was a young woman with long dark hair, dressed in a revealing Skin-Regalia, and bestowed with four angel-like wings extending from a Vector Core that resembled the body of a dove.

She made no effort to disguise her face, which I found rather beautiful, but devoid of warmth or kind feelings.

This was definitely a pretty lass you didn't want to bring home to meet your parents.

I sat back in my throne chair and regarded the cold eyes that stared at the drones keeping their distance.

In ten years, she had hardly aged and still resembled a teenage girl. Some of Public Security’s researchers suspected her body was influenced by the Celestial Class Seraphim armor. In other words, it was as though Seraphim had slowed down time for her. No one would suspect she was a woman past her mid-twenties, though some would sense the heart of ice beating in her chest.

After all these years away from Pharos, the Kin Slayer had finally returned, and rather than hide she had chosen to reveal herself.

Tell me, Gehanna. Why did you come back? Why after all these years did you return to Pharos?

I laced my fingers, and planted my elbows on the armrests of my throne chair.

“Galahad, tell Lancelot not to underestimate her.”

“Aye, Sire.”

“And tell him…not to disappoint me like his predecessor did.”

I met the glare of her cold dark eyes in the holovid window, and solemnly vowed she would not escape us a second time.

#

(Merkala)

#

The smugglers had fled while I cut down the drones.

Their vehicles and small craft employed a thermoptic camouflage system to hide behind as they raced away, heading deeper into the Old Docks.

Driving through here was one thing.

Flying a small craft was another.

I had to admire the pilot’s skill at handling a ship within the confines of the Old Docks.

With the last drone now a smoking wreck lying on the ground, I turned toward the Harbor Tunnel.

*Sofia? Maestro?

There was no response, and when I checked the Fragment-Link, I realized it was severed.

Maestro had cut me off.

This point on, I was on my own.

In the distance, the solitary figure of a man dressed in white and dark archaic armor from a land in humanity’s distance past, flew weightlessly toward me before descending to the rock floor. He came to a stop where his feet touched ground, some seventy meters away, a distance I could cross in a little over a second, but for a Familiar in an Overclocked state that was a considerable length of time.

Using Seraphim’s Awareness-field to enhance my vision, I studied his appearance.

He was a well-built young man to begin with, but the black and white Skin-Regalia enhanced his physical proportions, such that he stood some seven and a half feet tall. Six black Vector Wings floated behind him, and his right hand gripped an enormous longsword with ornate markings etched into the fuller. There was no doubt in my mind it was a two-handed weapon, but the immense strength of his Skin-Regalia allowed him to heft it easily with just one hand.

I flexed my grip on the sword-spear and then called out to him, my voice amplified by an effect-field manifested by Seraphim.

“I know that Artifact, but I don’t know you.” There was no response so I added, “Are you the new Meister of the Arturio Pendragon?”

He began walked toward me with measured steps, and a moment later his voice boomed out at me, but not in reply.

“Gehanna Valerian afil Lanfear. By order of Public Security Section Zero, you are under arrest for the murder of a Dianna Leanster afil Sora.”

The black Vector Wings floating behind him now fanned out, and two of them aimed their sharp tips at me.

Fearing the lethal hyperwave lightning would soon lance from their tips, I overclocked and summoned a dozen barrier-fields protectively before me.

A double flash of light, and the hyperwave lightning blew my barriers apart.

As thunder boomed through upper level of the Old Docks, I staggered back.

A heartbeat later, the young man launched himself at me with eye tricking speed, and I barely succeeded in raising my sword-spear in time to parry the swing of his immense longsword with its golden cross-guards.

With the weapon up close, I didn’t need to focus my Awareness-field on it to see it clearly.

“That’s Excalibur,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “That is the Arturio Pendragon!”

It wasn’t just the sword that I noticed.

For a moment, my attention was surprisingly drawn to his handsome, chiseled features, and my heart skipped not one but two beats.

What the Hell?

Distracted, I was knocked back several meters when he drew back the sword and struck at me with lightning speed.

I slid to a stop, cursed myself for losing focus, and raised my sword-spear in defense.

Twice more he charged at me, and twice more I was able to defend with a two-handed grip on my weapon.

The third time, I darted aside and put distance between us.

I can’t believe this. Why the Hell am I so distracted by him? Why is my heart beating like mad?

A chill settled around my lungs as something dawned on me.

Wait a minute! Could it be? Didn’t this happen the last time I faced this Artifact?

He raised his sword and aimed it’s sharp tip squarely at my heart. “Beauty such as yours is a poison to men.”

“Huh?” I blinked, caught off guard by his declaration, my overclocked state wavering.

Changing stance, he drew back his right leg, and swung the longsword over his right shoulder, a guard form I remembered as the Posta di Donna.

I swiftly lowered my sword-spear and aimed it diagonally to the ground, summoning a piercer-field around the blades, then wrapping them in layers of barrier-fields. In this stance, I was ready to execute a deflection, and hopefully a rapid counter.

Standing motionless, only my opponent’s lips moved, and my attention was irresistibly drawn to them. “You are a vixen that I, Lancelot, shall purge from this realm.”

What the Hell are you talking about?

Then I immediately wondered what it would be like to be kissed by his lips.

They look so full and soft—aggh! WHAT AM I THINKING?

Realizing I’d left myself open, my heart jumped and my innards clenched, fearing I’d be struck down in a heartbeat. But then I noticed his gaze was solidly planted on my cleavage, generously exposed by the rather embarrassing design of Seraphim’s Skin-Regalia, and pushed up by my arms as I held my defensive guard.

“You minx!” he grumbled loudly. “How dare you tempt with such angelic wares!”

“Geh!” Ticked off, I retorted sharply while breaking out into a hot blush. “How do you think I feel?”

“Are you not embarrassed?”

“Of course I’m embarrassed!” I yelled back. “So stop staring at my chest!”

Blushing furiously, I launched an impromptu attack, met his counter, and deflected it with surprising ease. The barrier-fields shattered around my sword-spear and his longsword, leaving only the piercer-field to clash with the field enveloping his weapon.

Locked rigid in battle for a second, I found myself uncomfortably close to him, my breasts pressed against one of his arms, his lips unbearably close to mine.

Our Awareness-fields warped and wavered as they grabbled with each other like two lovers in a mad tussle.

Unable to hold myself back any longer, my heart beating painfully fast and my body hot in all womanly places, I released one hand on the sword-spear’s grip, reached out and then grabbed the back of his head. Pulling his face toward mine, I kissed him with a passion that stemmed from hidden depths within my Seraphim.

But I wasn’t the only one who’d lost control.

With an arm around my lower back, he drew me tightly against his body, and I swooned in his manly presence, our tongues dueling madly.

No, no, no, no—Noooo!

With the last of my free will, I broke free of him, and he of me.

Leaping away from each other, we landed more than a dozen meters apart, both of us breathing heavily but not from physical exertion.

Almost in concert, we wiped our lips with the back of a hand, and glared hotly at each other.

“You bastard,” I hissed at him.

“You bitch,” he spat at me.

Gathering air in our lungs, we yelled at each other.

“What the Hell have you done to me?”

#

(Aleron)

#

I closed my eyes as I palmed my face and cursed my misfortune.

Not again! This can’t be happening again!

The young women technicians at their stations were making confused chatter, their voices mere whispers, but I heard them clearly.

“…are they lovers…?”

“…but isn’t she with Crimson Crescent…?”

“…could it be an act…?”

However, Galahad made no effort to hide his confusion, and questioned me loudly. “Sire, what’s going on? Do they know each other? I mean, isn’t this a little strange? Didn’t Lancelot say he’d sworn off women for good after his last heartbreak?”

I could hear the sounds of their bickering like jealous lovers between the sharp zing-zing of their weapons clashing.

“Err, Sire…?”

Opening my eyes, and lowering my hand, I stared at the two combatants, fighting each other while possessed by the ghosts inhabiting their Artifacts.

“No, they don’t know each other,” I replied, feeling weary and weak.

“Then why are they—?”

“But their Artifacts do,” I added with a heavy sigh as I wilted in my throne chair.

The spectating drones captured the sights and sounds of the battle from various angles, and relayed it to the Albion’s Tactical Operations room where it was displayed on a dozen holovid windows accompanied by high fidelity audio.

“Foul vixen—shame on you for stealing my lips without permission!”

“Bastard—how dare you draw me tightly against your body!”

I palmed my forehead and eyes, unable to bear the sight I was witnessing.

This wasn’t turning out the way I’d hoped.

It was turning out the way I’d feared, and prayed against.

The zing of clashing effect-fields grew to a deafening crescendo, then abruptly crashed into silence, followed by the sounds of intense pashing.

Galahad hesitantly reported, “Ah…Sire. They’re at it again….”

With eyes closed, I raised a hand and waved it heavily. “I know. I know. Don’t tell me. I can hear them quite well.”

The sounds of their heavy breathing came through clearly into the Tactical room, and I winced inwardly as I listened to an uncharacteristic Lancelot speak out amorously.

“Damn you, wench. You’re as beautiful as ever.”

“Lying, cheating charlatan. Did you think I would fall for your sweet words yet again?”

More sounds of intense pashing, before they hastily separated, and then resumed fighting as vigorously as ever.

Shaking my head in mounting despair, I tapped an area of the command console built into my throne’s right armrest. “Captain, take the Albion closer to the docks, and arm her smart weapons. I fear we may have to intervene personally.”

“Very good, sir. The situation does appear to be falling out of hand.”

“Indeed, Captain. Indeed.”