Art dropped his ship out of trans-space and smiled as the stars re-appeared on the viewscreen. With the ship rapidly slowing from near lightspeed to a more sedentary pace, the red tinge to them disappeared as the temporal distortion effects reduced.

“That’s better. Normal space is always nicer than the grey nothing we seem to spend too much time in these days. Eh Melrin?”

There was no reply, so Art flicked a fingernail at the robot that lurked on the control panel near his arm, eliciting a small ‘ting’ sound that rang through the cramped cabin of the cruiser. “Melrin… come on you cantankerous old sod, I’m talking to you.”

A muffled voice came from the bot. “I know you’re talking to me, and I’m ignoring you. I’m charging you moron, bog off and bother someone else.”

“There isn’t anyone else, as you well know, you grumpy old arachnid. Look, you can see Neptune’s rings. It won’t be long before we’re home.”

The metallic blob sprouted eight legs, and eight eyes swirled into life on the polished metal surface. Disconnecting from the ship’s power node the metallic spider scuttled over the controls to take a look at the viewscreen.

“Lovely. Very nice: very blue. When are we getting home?”

“You may be obscenely clever Mel, but you have no appreciation for beauty.”

“Beauty lies in mathematics and physics, not in colour and form.”

“I’ll tell Gwen you said that.”

“Oh yes, that’s right. Threaten me with the sarcastic and caustic tongue of your wife. She keeps calling me an ‘ant’. Blasted woman.”

“And she’ll be pleased to see you too, just don’t scuttle up to her and try and give her a hug like you did last time, she’s not quite got used to your new form yet.”

“It’s practical.”

“It’s a spider big enough to ride on, Melrin. It’s bound to freak a few people out.”

“Their problem: not mine.” The bot scuttled back to its docking port and withdrew its legs, refusing to engage in any further conversation.

Art sighed. It’d been some time since they’d last been home. The frontier wars always seemed to rumble on interminably. This time though they’d scored a major victory against the mixed forces of the Aengle and the frontier, for now at least, was stable. Leaving his commanders to mop up the after battle carnage, he’d grabbed his cruiser and headed home.

Thankfully travel in T-space was almost instantaneous, the drive folding space to allow travel between points. Melrin had once explained it to him in purely theoretical terms - causing a headache and several blank looks - but the best analogy he'd come across so far in his eventful life was from an old drunken physics professor in a bar, who had jokingly described his explanation as 'string' theory.

“Get a piece of string. Imagine travelling from one end to the other. That's conventional near-lightspeed travel. Now, pick up the string and scrunch it up in your hand. If you look at your string now it touches at various points, we can travel where it touches. Now imagine a massively long piece of string but you can control where it touches. Touch one end of your string / journey to the other and you cut out the loop of travel in between. Simple, give or take a little bit of physics.”

The old drunk had then chuckled and said, "Mind you, if your flight computer goes wrong, you could end up anywhere, or possibly everywhere. It’s best not to spread yourself too thinly.”

The 'everywhere' comment had always haunted him, and no matter how short the T-space journey, he always breathed a sigh of relief when the colour warped stars took over from the blank nothingness of folded space.

“Are we there yet?”

Art glared at Melrin. “No. Now either help or belt up. Honestly, it’s like travelling with a three year old.”

Melrin’s glowing eyes faded as he went back into sleep mode, the colour somehow conveying his grumpiness. Art placed his chin on his hands and watched as the rings of Neptune swept past.

Although the longest part of the journey took mere minutes, the greater part of the trip lay in travelling in and around the planetary systems. T-Space drive technology couldn't be used within range of interplanetary bodies. Soon he'd be home on Titan gazing out over the hydrocarbon lakes, and at the awesome sight of Saturn filling the horizon.

Out of habit he initiated the cloaking field and then tapped in the coordinates to set course for his citadel on Titan.

“We’re home.”

Eight legs sprouted from Melrin’s body, and he stretched his limbs in turn, looking at the computer read outs as he did so.

“Art, why are the castle protection fields up?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I wanted you awake, and also why I set the ship down outside the old town rather than approaching the castle space dock; something’s not quite right old man.”

“What’s not right is you calling me ‘old man’. I haven’t been a man for years.”

“Alright, alright, keep your legs on. It’s a term of endearment you miserable beggar. Honestly, you’re more grumpy now than you were when you had arthritis.”

“I have eight legs to get arthritis in now.”

“You’re a brain in an exoskeleton! How on earth can you get joint pain?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m not ruling out the possibility.”

“Bloody hell fire,” muttered Art. “Right, before we kick off an almighty argument here, would you mind dragging your arthritic and venerable self up to the castle, to see what’s going on please? I’m anxious to see my wife and get away from your petulant mumblings for a few hours.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” said Melrin as he headed away from the ship. “Don’t wait up…”

As the proximity alarms went off, Art slammed upright in his seat, cursed as his neck cricked, and then relaxed as Melrin muttered his way through the airlock into the cabin.

“You’ve been betrayed,” he said without preamble. “Maudread has taken control. Your wife is in the cells, the drone guards appear to be on full alert, and all the energy fields are up. We don’t have the power in this flying shed to blast through them, and even if you did you’d be endangering the innocents in the citadel.”

“Options?” said Art calmly, only his eyes betraying his anger.

“There’s one way in that Maudread wouldn’t know about. In fact, even you don’t know about it.”

“You have a secret way into my castle?”

“You asked me to design it.”

“Aye, and I asked you to make sure it couldn’t be entered by just anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone…”

“Well that’s true,” conceded Art. “Okay, so what’s this ‘other way in’?”

“You aren’t going to like it…”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Right, we’d better get kitted up, I think I need a little chat with Maudread.”

Art looked up at his castle perched high above the town on its artificial isthmus of metal and plasticrete. Located precariously above the hydrocarbon lakes of the Camelodenum crater on two tall towers of rock, and looming over the processing plants and township below, it was an imposing sight and far more stable than it appeared.

“The antigravity fields of the castle are operating as per normal, but the citadel’s defences have been activated. There is only one way in.” Melrin pointed with one leg at one of the stone pillars. On one side near the top is a hidden entrance. In this form I can easily access it, and it is possible that a man can squeeze through. First though, that man has to get there and the pillar is utterly unclimbable by anything human. Once there, there is a keypad. If the code is keyed in wrong, then anything within five metres is vaporised. Also, if we try and take in any energy weapons we’ll set off the alarms.”

“Nice and easy then,” muttered Art under his breath. “How the hell am I going to climb that in my envirosuit?”

“You’re not. You hold on to me and I climb.”

“I hope you move fast old man, that’s a long way up.”

“You’re about to find out…”

Melrin moved to the base of the rocky stack that formed one of the pillars on which the citadel appeared to sit and climbed a few feet up the sheer rock, pausing to allow Art to climb on to his metallic body, hanging on grimly by his arms as the arachnid form spidered swiftly up the rocky face.

A few minutes later, a quietly spoken “we’re there Art,” made the man open his eyes, and Melrin paused briefly to allow him to alight on a narrow shelf of rock directly under the saucer-like underside of the citadel.

Art sank to his haunches, looking pale. “That’s not something I want to do again.”

“You weren’t doing the carrying.” Melrin’s eyes glowed, blinked oddly and then dulled.

“Are you okay old man?”

“Losing power, too much energy expended. Quickly, the keypad. Sequence H3LL0.”

“Hello? Really?”

“How many would be burglars do you know who say hello before they try and break in?”

“True, good point.”

Art tapped in the code and a segment of rock dematerialised to show a passage behind. Melrin walked unsteadily in behind him and then tapped a switch with one extended leg. The walls of the passage illuminated and the field re-established itself. Melrin extended one leg and plugged into a power node.

“I’m sorry Art, you’re own your own for a little while, that climb took it out of me.”

“Okay old man. I understand.” He rested a hand on the metallic body of his friend as the eight legs retracted and the eyes dimmed. “Thanks Melrin, I’ll take it from here.”

There was a brief glow from one eye in response and then Art was alone. He looked around him assessing his situation. Melrin had discussed his little service entrance with Art as they climbed and he was aware that now he was inside the shielding he needed to arm himself before trying to save his wife without being discovered or alerting Maudread to his presence.

Making his way quietly to the end of the passage that led into the main citadel, he paused at the energy field masking the tunnel entrance and tapped a panel on the wall. The field polarised slightly allowing him to see into the hallway on the other side and he jumped back reflexively as the broad back of a guard was presented to him; the man obviously on guard. The curved metal helm with its radio antenna was looking away from him, a long dark coat hiding the remaining form of the citadel drone.

Making a snap decision, he flicked the field off, grabbed the collar of the coat and yanked as hard as he could, smashing the drone’s head off the passage wall behind him, his helmet falling with a clang to the floor. He slapped the panel to spark the field back into life, hiding the briefly exposed tunnel entrance, turning to drive his fist into the solar plexus of the guard as he reached for his radio. As the drone doubled over he punched hard at the temple of the falling figure who hit the ground out cold.

“Sorry old son, nothing personal.”

Minutes later, the camouflage field over the tunnel entrance dropped again, and Art stepped out into the corridor flexing his bruised hand. Looking back at the naked, bound and gagged drone, he tapped the panel and watched as the field re-established. The heavy garb of a citadel guard covered him from head to foot, the breathing mask and infrared lenses covering his features. He patted his hip where the reassuring weight of a handgun nestled; the old fashioned gunpowder propellant system the only thing that would work inside the stronghold’s suppression field. He strode through the halls, nodding at other guards and confidently making his way toward the cells, noting the presence of many more armed guards than normal for the interior of the citadel. At the door to the cells, he flashed his ident badge, muttered some vague excuse about having a message for the duty sergeant, and then moved on deeper into the inner halls.

The cells were in the centre of his castle. Secured within multiple layers of security and different systems, he knew he was taking a chance, but he also knew that he had to get to his wife before he did anything else.

Approaching the desk of the duty sergeant, he saluted smartly and then waited.

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Message Sarge.”

“Well, spit it out man.”

Art tapped his comm. mic. “Identify: Art. Lord of Citadel. Authorisation P3NDR4G0N. Disable drones in immediate area of cells.”

The drone’s eyes glowed briefly and then he slumped gently to the desk, a clatter from the doors nearby signifying that the main guards had also deactivated.

“You’re not the only one with secrets old man,” he muttered and grabbed the Sergeant’s cell keys.

Once he had located her cell, he opened the door and then reeled back as a chair smashed into his face, cracking the lens on one eye. Staggering backwards, he crashed off the wall and slumped to the floor shaking his head groggily. There was a screech of rage and triumph, and his wife appeared in the doorway holding one leg of the now destroyed seat.

She spat on him and lifted the chair leg to hit him again.

“Stop you bloody harridan! For pity’s sake woman, it’s me.”

“Art?”

“No, it’s the soup dragon. Who the hell else would it be?”

“You’re dressed as guard you stupid arse.”

“Oh yes. Look, can we stop the banter love; we’re in a bit of a predicament here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Aye. Good shot by the way.”

Gwen preened slightly and then helped Art to his feet.

He lifted his helmet, removed the mask and kissed her. “Right love, what the hell is going on?”

“Maudred arrived just after you left and, along with some of your so called Knights, took control of the guard. They overrode some of the drone protocols and managed to take control.”

“Did they do anything to you?”

“Aside from knock me out with gas, no.”

“Good. Fancy a little revenge my fair lady?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A few minutes later, Art and Gwen strode through the halls together, Art having replaced his damaged helm, Gwen sporting the regalia of the now inactive duty sergeant. As they approached the great hall, Art slowed and tapped his mic once again, sending out another override code that rendered the guards by the main hall entrance useless.

He pushed open the doors and they entered to find a host of slumped guards, and Maudred sat on a chair at the head of the great round dining table that formed the centrepiece of the citadel.

“Ah Art. I was wondering when you’d show up. It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Can it boy. You’re not impressing anyone with your faux geniality. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, at this very moment in time I’m escaping…”

As quick as a viper striking, Gwen’s hand flew to the gun at her hip, and the resulting bullet drilled a neat hole in Maudred’s grinning head, which smashed and disappeared as the hologram dissembled.

“Shit,” she swore and rushed to the window of the hall with Art as the Excalibur class fighter lifted past the windows, zipping away over the lakes of Titan.

Art moved to the table, sat heavily, then swore, lifting a note from the elegantly polished surface.

The Camlann system. We have Melrin…

Art tapped his helmet mic. “Identify: Art. Lord of Citadel. Authorisation P3NDR4G0N Reactivate drones and revert to Citadel defence pattern Beta.

As the drones that surrounded them lurched back to their feet and began moving to their defensive positions, Art removed his helm and looked at his wife as she sat down opposite, passing her the note. “Fancy a trip love?”

“You know I don’t like spiders.”

“Aye, but he’s not just a spider is he.”

“No, that’s true. You do know Maudread will try and kill you don’t you?”

“Aye, but that’s okay as I’ll be trying to kill him too, and I have more practice than he does. The Battle of Camlann awaits… we’ll get the bastard then.”

The End

~~~

A short story based on the two pictures on the right and the Arthurian legends, but with a slight SF twist.