Noble Interception

I had seen the Noble Interception twice before.

The first time was at Prince Pendragon’s coming of age ceremony. The Noble Interception loomed on the horizon, her state of the art impulse drives hidden behind the mountains. The ship was slimmer back then. Captain Gawain had refused the recommendations of his engineers to add ten additional levels to the ship’s design, citing that she was, and I quote, “perfect as she is. Please tell these wrench monkeys to get the hell off my ship.”

The second time left an indelible memory in my mind.

Back at the Imperial Fleet Academy, we students were all given an opportunity to shadow a capital ship of our choice in our final year. I was still Prince Pendragon’s fiance back then. I asked him for a favor: to allow me to shadow the operations of the Noble Interception.

Knight Captain Gawain looked shocked the day I arrived to shadow his ship. In the many years he had spent teaching me how to read and, in my later years, teaching me everything he knew about naval affairs, I had never seen such terror in his eyes.

“No one told me you were coming,” he had said.

“Well, I’m here now.”

“I cannot recommend that you board this ship,” Gawain said. “No, rather, you must not board her. Not today.”

I, of course, didn’t listen to the old knight. I was then as I was now. Stubborn, uncompromising. I demanded to be allowed onboard and threatened to call Arthur should Gawain continue to refuse. The old knight relented, on one condition.

“You must watch on the upper decks,” he demanded. “The newer ones. There is a viewing gallery on the thirty fourth level. It will have to do.”

“The other students at the IFA are allowed onto the bridge of their chosen ships,” I protested, “to watch live communications, to see how things actually work in action. How am I supposed to gain any experience if you shield me from that, while claiming that it’s for my sake?”

“No. This is not for your sake, Lady Greymoor,” Gawain sighed. “It is for me.”

That day, the Noble Interception jumped to Octave Moravia, a world covered in flat plateaus on the cusp of revolt. Discontent with the imperium had brewed an uprising on the planet of Kapur. The rebellion there had spread to neighboring worlds and Gawain, among other knights, had been sent to quell the contagion.

I hadn’t been told that the negotiations with the citizenry had turned violent, that they had slaughtered delegates who brought with them peace proposals and civil improvements, that officials in Octave Moravia were planning to smuggle nuclear explosives bound for Caerleon itself. None of that would have justified what I saw, but it would have softened the blow for a young academy student, would have made it more… palatable perhaps.

Gawain must have known and did not want that for his best and brightest. Practice triumphed theory. He chose not to tell me. He knew I would understand that this was a lesson in its own way. I watched the capital city of the planet burn from the comfort of a space lounge. I watched Noble Interception’s plasma cannons set mesa after mesa ablaze with cindered souls.

He never taught me anything ever again. He had nothing left to teach. When I saw him next, all I saw in Knight Captain Gawain was a face of shame.

From the command console of Circe, I spotted in Gawain’s holographic face that same look of duty bound shame.

“This is Knight Captain Gawain, commander of the Noble Interception,” the old knight repeated.

“Noble Interception,” Ulysses folded his hands behind his back. “This is Circe. We hear you loud and clear. Welcome to beyond the Imperial Rim. You’re a long way from home, Knight Captain.”

“Duty calls,” Gawain’s gaze shifted in my direction. “You know why we’re here?”

“Naturally. Why is the imperium interested in discarded goods?”

“You will refer to Lady Greymoor by her title,” Gawain replied. “You will also release her with all haste. Our business is none of your own concern.”

“What if she doesn’t want to come with you?” Ulysses motioned to the planet behind him. “You just tried to toss her down there. She’d be free with us.”

The Pirate King was right. Even Gawain showing up was strange. Why did the imperium care whether I was captured by pirates or eaten by predators? Was there some leverage I held that I was unaware of? Or had Arthur simply changed his mind? Nonsense. To imagine Arthur changing his mind. Hah!

“What she wants is not up to her,” Gawain rebutted. “You have two choices. Surrender her or risk the lives of the rest of your fleet.”

Fuck. Off.

“Not up to me?” I interrupted and stepped forward. Ulysses shot me a scowl but I ignored him. “Did Arthur decide to grow some courage? Or is he more cowardly than ever? Did he decide a maximum security prison suits me best, or a public execution, maybe? What has him sending his great captain to the edges of the Imperium? Did you even ask him why he’s sent you here, or are you yet his eternal silent lapdog?”

Gawain remained silent.

“You think you can come all the way here and decide my life on a whim?” I continued. “What more do you intend to take from me?”

“That’s enough, Miss Greymoor,” Ulysses murmured. “A reminder that, once again, you’re aboard my ship.”

“Circe,” Gawain said. “You have ten minutes to comply, after which I will have no choice but to take proper action.”

The display snapped off. An uncomfortable silence dimmed the bridge. I could feel the wary gazes of the other officers aboard. They certainly weren’t ready to stick their necks out for me.

“Well, well,” Ulysses sighed. “Your life or the lives of my crew, Miss Greymoor?”

“You don’t have to make that choice,” I shrugged. “Do you have any escape pods, or better yet, a mobile fighter with a Lemmings-Hyder drive?”

“I do.” Ulysses nodded.

“Let me commandeer one. Gawain is after me. Just me. He’ll give chase. You’ll be allowed to pillage and burn the rest of this sector to your content.”

“Or we could just all run away and live happily ever after,” Ulysses mused.

“Do you think we Caerleons pull ship names out of a hat?” I rolled my eyes. “Why do you think it’s called Noble Interception, Pirate King? Gawain’s battle groups eat your kind for late supper.”

“My kind?”

“Fighting a Caerleon battle group is suicide. You’ll regret it.”

Ulysses shrugged. He sauntered past the command console and gazed out the window. An empty chair rested front and center of the bridge. The Pirate King sat upon it. He pressed his fingers to a terminal that rose from the arms. The lights of the bridge turned crimson. Alarms blared. A protective screen enclosed the windows and cast the room into darkness. On the command console, the dots representing the Sunless Fleet began to move.

“Your request for a mobile fighter is denied,” Ulysses replied. “Your input has been much appreciated, Miss Greymoor, but I know how to command my people. Emiko, return to your post and prep for combat. Take Miss Greymoor here with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Emiko saluted and rose from her station. She crossed over to me with brisk and efficient steps.

“Follow me,” she whispered.

I considered refusing, but the red lights, the concentration amongst the other officers, gave me pause. Military training, an innate respect for command hierarchies, kicked back in. There would be time for complaining later, if I survived.

“Let’s see where this takes me,” I murmured. “Lead the way.”

Emiko led me back to the elevator. Ulysses’s voice sounded over the ship intercom. “All hands to battle stations,” he announced. Circe’s engines rumbled to life. Gawain would make his move soon. Aboard the elevator, Emiko pressed the level at the base of the ship. Were we headed for another hangar bay? A cargo hold?

I took a closer look at the navigations officer. Emiko appeared my age, with hair washed with faded indigo, tucked beneath a beige beret. Her eyes looked vacant on purpose. Her uniform was Caerleon, as I had suspected. I recognized a number of impressive accolades stitched beneath her coat lapel. Holy shit. I spotted a Burberry Cross. A pistol was holstered at her belt. It would only take me half a second to unfasten it and draw it on her.

“Don’t think about it,” Emiko said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“There’s no need to play dumb. You’re not the only IFA graduate here.”

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped through an airlock. The hallways on this floor were wider than the other levels aboard Circe. That wasn’t all. The floor tiling, the design of the blast doors, the security cages that led to other rooms or corridors, the slim, angular design of the windows, even the colors of the walls, everything about this floor felt different from anything else aboard the Pirate King’s flagship.

“Was this floor added onto the ship recently?” I asked.

“Something like that,” Emiko responded.

A thick blast door awaited us at the end of the hall. A fingerprint scanner extended from the central lock. Emiko pressed her thumb against the scanner and the blast door clicked and began to unwind.

The layers of the door peeled back. I realized then that I hadn’t stepped onto a new level. The elevator had taken us aboard a whole new ship.