Book 2 chapter 8 (7.5, but 8 for ease of numbering)

At the visual easing of Sir Ton’s temper, and the removal of his hand from the hilt of his weapon several Knights of Sir Bron’s eclectic group rushed forward, carrying collapsible chairs, and a foldaway table, a field officer’s equipment, except this particular set came from several incomplete sets. With a relaxed gesture, as if he were never worried Sir Bron gestured to the set, offering the seat. “May we confer, Commander Ton? Perchance together we might get to the bottom of things?” He sounded tired, aged and worn, but welcoming. “A good plan, Sir Bron, let us see what information we both have.” The two Knights sat, and looked upon a projected map of the Camelot, upon which Sir Bron placed several markers, and rectified the location of some walls manually, using some of the quirks of his older system. “Here is the lay of the land, so to say, now for this map we used the schematics as on file, but they seem to be rather wrong, some walls seem moved, and on three places my men have noted wrong identification marks for floors, or bulkheads.” On this Sir Ton frowned. ” Walls have moved, and floor levels are wrong, the ship is changed, but we used the schematics to guide the order of the road.” A pot of dark brew is set next to the map, and mugs filled, absent mindedly Sir Ton takes one and bring it to his mouth. “Helmet, We might be able to guide them here, we have triage set up, should they have encountered trouble.” The warning just in time, Sir Ton set the mug back down, and finally removed his battle helm.  “Much obliged, your suit allows you to send a pulse does it not?” Sir Bron smiled, and sipped the brew.”Not my suit, but we do have an active locator, and now the enemy is gone we wouldn’t be at risk when using it.” Sir Ton frowned, as he drank the hot drink, and collected his thoughts. “The active beacons are technically for training goals, but I like how you think. We might be able to bring them home.” He paused for another sip.” And the Knight Commander, as, even though I know where he is, I have no idea how to get there anymore, nor can I hail him presently.”

The words had flown from his mouth before he even had the sense to consider them, and now he had to let it play out. He hated himself for the carelessness that he had just displayed, in the back of his mind he could already hear himself apologizing to Mordred, exclaiming that he regretted speaking so openly, already he knew Mordred’s reply, “But my dear friend” He would say. “Don’t you know I value your frankness, certainly the timing could not have been worse, but let us be fair with one another, you were possibly still drugged from your surgery, by all means you should be reclining on the bridge and let the men work for you.” Actually now that he thought about it, that last bit seemed wrong yet somehow fitting for the situation.

“Perhaps the ship’s sudden manoeuvres caused some discomfort for the Knight Commander, indeed, perchance his helm is damaged?” Sir Bron offered, appearing utterly unimpressed to find out the actual Knight Commander was missing in action. “Still if he is within the five deck range we will find him, and if any part of his helm remains functional, he will find us. Unless he was outside when the ship fired her engines of course.” The very real option of his friends death being mentioned as a mere after thought rubbed Sir Ton in all the wrong ways, before he could respond however the electric torches went out entirely, causing the Camelot to be wreathed in deeper shadows, and effectively shutting Sir Ton up, as he instinctively grabbed his helm.

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