The journey back to The Sword of Damocles was brief, or so it seemed to Mordred, the corpse in his arms was light, he had said his goodbyes long ago, long before he had a chance to meet with her again. Long before he became a commander, even long before he ever became an officer. To see her again was wonderful, confusing, and somehow painful. To lose her again so shortly after had been a strange experience, it made him feel somewhat numb, like the whole thing had been just sort of dream, yet the fragile thing in his hands told him otherwise, forced him to acknowledge that up until recently his mother had been alive. and now in one week he had been reunited with both his parents, only to witness them both die. The irony of it all left a rotten taste in his mouth, the absurdity made him question his sanity. The airlock sealed behind his group as they boarded The Sword of Damocles, no more need for charades then. “Gwenn34, take Sir Ton back to the medical bay, use the most efficient clearance free route.” With a steady pace Sir Ton walked towards the nearest elevator, leaving Dame Krim to stare after him. “Sir,,might not be the right time but, how?” For a brief moment he considered how to answer her before Knight Commander Mordred breathed deeply, letting the moment slide away from him, the situation was simple a knight had witnessed the retrieval system moving another Knight on it’s own. So all he needed to do was answer truthfully. “I activated his suit’s retrieval functions earlier, and put the suit A.I. in control, so now she is taking him to receive medical care.” That should sate her curiosity somewhat. “Do all armours have that? Does mine have that? Does yours?” Or of course he could have remembered that Dame Krim was one of those inquisitive types who wished to know everything they could about anything there was. “No, not all armours have the retrieval system, and if I look at yours I think you may have broken it, as for my own, no this one does not have it, it is after all an outdated suit of plate, that has not seen proper maintenance in oh three or four centuries I guess, with what has been going on there is no telling how much or little time has passed between maintenance checks.” She took her time to consider those words, and he could see her mind running circles around itself, good that would buy some time, at least until he had a suitable casket for his mother.
Sir Tor smiled as he dragged the carpet with on it the strange unconscious woman behind him into yet another defunct hallway. Things were definitely looking up for him, not only had he found a decent carpet to drag her with, he even had managed to find one that did not clash with her current clothes, colour wise. Calmly he trotted along, the sparking wires overhead illuminating the hallway as he went, faintly he noticed the magnetic locks of his boots engaging, but thought little of it, today was going to be great!
Round another corner she led her group, and for a moment Dame Miriam Spriggot feared what she would find, or rather what she wouldn’t find. She stopped and turned her head, looking to her fellows. “Right if it isn’t around the corner, I’m going to off myself, who’s with me? ” Right after the words left her mouth she wished they hadn’t, and cursed herself for lacking the sense of humor that Sir Ingles had. The men however, started laughing.
And that was how they marched into the medical bay of The Camelot, laughing like lunatics as they half carried, half dragged each other and their fallen comrades, led by Dame Spriggot who was holding her pistol loosely by her side.
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, Sir Tiberos Harding counted the rivets in the ceiling, it was his only entertainment so far, unless he would wish to further disgrace himself, he had acted like a pig headed boor, who hadn’t known when to nod, or worse, he acted like a man who didn’t know who to obey, he had in a word been stupid. Sure he had given Sir Idver many a beating on the training grounds, and yes he had the most experience, but to cross the Tower? What had he been thinking? Actually he knew what he had thought, he had thought that there would be no repercussions, that he would be fine due to his seniority, he had forgotten his place and above all his rank. “Hyou look , Bored, is there a reason you look bored old bird?” The voice was metallic in nature, and filled with a sort of underlying menace he felt hard to place and describe. “WELL?” static filled the word as if to sand down the harsh sharp tone. “I look bored, because I am bored.” He didn’t look towards the voice, a deep rooted dread kept him from doing so. “Perhaps a game would help, alleviate your, boredom, a game between, old friends.” There was no question, though it felt like it was intended as one. “Of course you would have to look at me to play,,,” The sentence died off as if the speaker had meant to add more or was suddenly lost in thought. “I, can’t , I can’t look at you.” Harding felt sick to his stomach, his past had come to haunt him, maybe he was truly mad? “Why not?” The question was brief, curt, as if the spectre of his past knew the answer. “Because you aren’t there, not really, you’re dead, I saw you die.” There he said it, and now the moment would be dispelled, the voice would leave and he would wake up. And for a moment there was indeed silence. “LOOK, AT, ME!! YOU CUR!!” Static filled the voice like a audio transmitter pushed to it’s limits. Slowly Harding turned his head sweat starting to run along his neck as he did, before him stood Sir Balin, of the order of the dragon, his battle plate well maintained, his face mostly obscured, but his eyes, were those of a friend once lost, the sight itself nearly enough to break Sir Harding. “You,,,you live?” a near breathless whisper drawn from his suddenly dry throat, a million accusing thoughts jumbling through his mind, none making sense. “I visited you many times, now you will stop acting the fool, old hothead.” A sharp intake of breath caused the armour to rattle in a near purr. “And play checkers with me, as you explain yourself.” Only then did he notice the game his old dead friend was holding, as far as hallucinations went he did not mind this one. “Fine, let’s play then.”