Chapter 16 - Part II

(Aleron)

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I listened to my Lorelai Meister, Gabrielle, deliver her report, her voice emanating through the speakers of the Tactical Operations room. When she finished, I broached a question.

“What do you mean…gone?”

Her voice sounded sleepy, but then again, that’s just how she was. Perhaps it was more appropriate to refer to her as bored and disinterested in her manner of conversation. I hastened to state that didn’t imply she was derelict or remiss in her duties.

She simply sounded that way.

“There’s no sign of them,” she replied in a languid tone. “I’ve tapped into every security system in within and around the old docks. I’ve also scanned the surveillance data from the Harbor Tunnel security web, but I can’t find any sign of them.”

There was a long pause, and I chose not to interrupt as I knew there would be more coming.

Again, it was simply her way to interject frequent long intermissions in her verbal reports.

I believed that if she could, she would rather communicate directly into my mind.

Gabrielle had often mentioned she found talking an inefficient form of communication. However, when I pointed out that there was more to talking than met the ears, for example, listening between the lines and picking up the subtle variations in intonation and inflection that revealed conversations within conversations, Gabrielle would muse upon the matter silently for several days before eventually coming around full circle to her original point of view.

There was simply no getting through to her.

However, it was but an insignificant quibble, as she was the finest Lorelai Meister I had ever come across.

Gabrielle continued where she left off. “They either have a Stealthrun system that can hide them perfectly…or they never left the Old Docks.”

She paused, and I waited.

Eventually she added, “It’s like they just disappeared.”

I moistened my throat. “Can you tell where the smuggler craft came from?”

Her lazy reply came back a short while later. “No. It’s a custom model. I have a sixty percent match on a few designs on the market, but nothing closer.”

I slouched back in my throne-chair. “Keep searching. If you find anything pertinent to this matter let me know.”

A short pause this time, before she sighed heavily and said, “As you wish….”

Galahad turned slightly from his console and reported, “Gawain is stable and recovering. The Symbiote infusion did the trick. However, the specialists say he’ll be out of action for a few days—possibly a week.”

I sighed softly, and nodded weakly. “That’s good. That’s very good news.”

In the corner of my eyes, I saw one of the female specialists stiffen, then reach up and touch the visor she wore.

I tipped my head in her direction. “Something the matter, Lady Monique?”

“I’m not sure, Sire. I thought I saw something move in the lowest level of the Old Docks.”

“Saw something?”

“Yes, Sire. I’m viewing the sensor feed from the drones sweeping the lower level.” She craned her neck forward an inch or so, as though peering into the distance. “Something’s down there…I can feel it….”

Tapping my armrest’s left console, I brought up a collection of small holovid windows that displayed visual and audio data received from a number of drones scouting the low level of the Old Docks. However, I wasn’t able to see anything unusual. That said, I trusted Monique as her sensory perception was incredible sharp for an Aventis.

Tapping another are of the armrest console, I spoke to the Albion’s captain, and instructed him to take the ship down the middle of the Harbor Tunnel, and have it perform a flyby of the entrances to the Old Docks.

Within a minute, the ship had descended smoothly yet swiftly, and began to stroll slowly along the face of the Old Docks that looked out into the Harbor Tunnel.

Monique worked her photon console and brought up holovid bubble that floated in front of the other screens. It would seem she wanted to press the importance of her hunch.

“There,” she pointed, then used her console to quickly center on an area one drone was staring at intently.

I narrowed my eyes, focusing on where she indicated, but all I could see was dim darkness.

To my surprise, Galahad suddenly said, “It’s a ship.”

“What…?”

Galahad tapped his console, inputting commands, and I noticed a group of drones head toward that area of the Old Docks. As the drones flew closer to their destination, Galahad made an odd shape with his hands, as though trying to mime the ship’s shape.

“It’s a ship,” he repeated. “I’m certain of it. Not too large.”

Monique added, “Rather low slung, but somewhat long.”

“A smuggler,” Galahad tacked onto her observation. “Just what is it about smugglers today—”

I was about to agree with his sentiment when the holovids flashed pure white.

It took my mind a full second to comprehend what had happened.

In that second, Monique screamed and threw her visor away.

In the next second, the shockwave from the unexpected detonation reached the Albion. Had she been floating before the entrance to the lowest level cut into the rock wall of the Harbor Tunnel, the Albion would have endured the full brunt of the white hot wave of burning gases. However, she was floating a hundred meters higher, so the majority of the shockwave surged out into the Harbor Tunnel below the belly of the ship.

Despite this, her deflector-fields were shattered in a heartbeat, and the hastily generated second layer of shielding was barely able to keep the intense heat from burning the ship’s freshly painted skin.

Inside the Albion, inertial canceller fields kept the worst of the impact from splashing us to the four winds. The girls screamed as their bodies were kept harnessed to their seats by emergency effect-fields. In my throne-chair, I felt myself locked rigid within a cocoon of harness-fields, and found myself barely able to breathe. In such I state, I was aware of the ship tumbling away from the Old Docks, heading for a crash on the opposite side of the Harbor Tunnel, some two kilometers away.

Thankfully, after a few seconds the worst of the explosion had dissipated, and the Albion levelled out of its mad roll, quickly assuming a position near the opposite wall of the Harbor Tunnel.

I was proud to say that not once had the ship’s lighting crashed into emergency lights.

She’s tougher than I expected, I thought to myself.

Sweeping my gaze over the interior of the Tactical room, I saw the girls were recovering from the violent ride, but Monique was covering her eyes with her hands.

I tapped my right armrest console. “Medical to Tactical Operations. Hurry.”

Then I turned my attention to the multitude of holovid windows, almost all of them dark except for those showing an exterior visual through the ship’s camera eyes.

It appeared as though the Albion was floating in a greyish white cloud that billowed strongly all around her.

Galahad cursed softly. “They blew themselves up. Gods damn it, that’s just insane.”

“Easy there, Galahad,” I advised him. “Give me a Tactical report as soon as possible, if you please.”

“Aye, Sire.”

As Galahad, went about collating the data collected by the remaining sensors, the captain’s voice broke into the Tactical Room via the recessed speakers. “Sir, are you alright? The med team has been dispatched.”

“We are, Captain. However, Monique requires attention.” I paused before adding, “Please report on our status.”

“No major damage to the Albion, though we’ve lost most of her sensor suite. That detonation was rather clean, very little radiation, but it carried a very impressive electro-magnetic pulse along with it that overwhelmed her protection. External comms are down, including the Quantum-Link Array. We’re working on getting the auxiliary array up and running. We should be back on the air in a few seconds. Other than that, we’re in good shape, with no adverse effects to maneuvering and propulsion. Weapons are also available.”

“Restore communications as quickly as you can, Captain. And move us closer to the Old Docks. We need to see what condition it’s in—”

At that moment, the cloud surrounding the ship parted like a curtain being drawn aside, the pulverized rock blown away by a strong wind, and we caught our first look at the aftermath of the explosion.

The Old Docks were gone.

In its place was a great gaping hole in the side of the Harbor Tunnel, several kilometers wide, and just as deep into the asteroid that was Island One.

I stared at it in disbelief, all thought having fled my mind.

I simply couldn’t accept what I was seeing.

My mind a blank, it was only when loud sobbing filled the air that my thoughts came crashing back into the void of my consciousness.

The girl, Lady Miriam, sitting at her tactical station to the left of Galahad’s had palmed her face with her hands.

“…Lancelot…,” she sobbed behind her hands. “…Lancelot….”

What?

A moment later, Galahad cursed loudly, and jumped out of his seat. “I’m going out there!”

I had to praise him for his mental fortitude as I was still processing the realization that Lancelot had been standing within the Old Docks when the explosion took place.

I made no effort to stop Galahad, for I knew that with his Artifact he could fly to the ruins and search for Lancelot better than the Albion could in her present state. However, while she couldn’t search for him, she could dispatch her medical drones.

Before I could issue the order to deploy the med drones, two events took place.

The first was Galahad almost crashing headlong into the arriving medical team.

The second was the glimpse of movement within the dark interior of the cavern that was once the Old Docks.

Something was floating within the darkness.

Something white surrounded by black, sharply triangular wings.

Something recognizably human.

“Albion…this is Lancelot.”

I stood up slowly, and swallowed loudly. “Lancelot? Is that really you?”

“Aye, Sire. I apologize for my conduct, and will accept any reprimand or punishment you wish to meet out.”

Again, I swallowed loudly. “Ah…we can talk about that later.”

The sobbing girl was clutching her hands over her heart. “…Lancelot…you’re alive….”

“Indeed, Lady Miriam. I am alive and well. I apologize for worrying you.”

“…thank the gods…,” the girl whispered. “…thank the gods….”

At that moment, a chill ran down my spine as my mind accepted the unbelievable truth – robed in the Arturio’s Pendragon, Lancelot had survived the explosion that vaporized the Old Docks. In fact, he was unscathed and flying slowly toward us, pushed along by the maneuver-fields projected by his six Vector Wings.

I found it both incredible and frightening to witness the power of a Ruler Class Artifact such as the Arturio’s Pendragon.

Then my heart skipped a beat, and my chest grew cold, when I remembered there were now five Ruler Class Artifacts in Pharos.

I wasn’t giddy with excitement anymore.

I had been slammed down to the ground by the reality of the situation – by the power demonstrated by these godly, or ungodly, Artifacts.

It was said the Ruler Class were the only Artifacts capable of facing a Warlord on equal footing.

Until today – until this moment – I had doubted that assertion as sheer folly. A Warlord was infinitely superior to an Artifact, though in truth, a Warlord was simply another class of Artifact.

But the point was, a Warlord was in a league of its own.

To make the claim that a Ruler Class could stand toe-to-toe with a Warlord was pure fantasy.

Now I wasn’t so certain.

And that uncertainty threaten to unravel into a cavalcade of doubts.

I felt as though my world had been turned upside down, and it was time to re-evaluate what I knew about the Artifacts.

For now, I needed to obtain a full grasp on the current situation. That explosion and electro-magnetic pulse were sure to have done a number on the rest of Island One. Harsh questions were likely to be asked as to how this eventuality came about, and I needed answers ready and waiting.

Clearing my throat quickly, I addressed my knight floating out in the rubble. “Lancelot, I have a task for you.”

On the holovid screen, I watched Lancelot come to a halt half way to the ship. “Aye, Sire.”

I took a deep breath. “Lancelot, I need you to search the ruins….”