Sons of Arcturus (Science Fiction Smackdown Round 3 Entry)

A story based on King Arthur.

Pictures chosen: #3 (Castlesque structures atop platform atop tall pillar over city)

                         #4 (Masked soldier with unfrightening antiquated revolver)

Battleship Camelot. Not a bad ship. Takes a shit-kicking here and there, but she hauls herself through it.

She don't belong to nobody. Behraan. The upstart rebellion, calling themselves some Unity or some shit like that. Them demons. None of them own us.

We own us.

I was walking down the halls of Camelot, on Deck Two. Right under the bridge. They always build these damn things like the last ten decks don't matter. Up on the first five decks, it would take an all-day beating to get in.

So I opened the door to the meeting room. It was darkly lit, like the rest of the ship. Hadn't seen an overhaul in five long years, not since Behraan started getting scared about demons showing up and closed their docks practically everywhere. So we kept the lights dim, because lights took power. We didn't have a lot of that.

We were all getting hungry.

In the room was a round, black glossy metal table. Around that table, my best boys.

Lance, my demolition man. I wanted something leveled, Lance got it done.

Gal, his oldest son. Never had a woman in his life but he had a lot of men--right between the eyes.

Bob, my recon boy. Not much good in a fight but if I got a flea on my back, he'll pick it off for me.

 Benny. My public relations. If I needed one more foot to kick in the door, he was it. If we had some problems with the foreign policy on various planets, he sorted it out with a plasmar repeater.

Gav. All-around guy. The puzzle piece. He flew the ships, he shot the guns, he got the girls. Son of a bitch thinks he's better than everyone else. I'd throw his ass out the nearest airlock, if he wasn't so useful when we didn't have the specialist for the job.

Then there's the old man. Merlin. Fucking know-it-all. Taught me more than a few tricks. This guy gets us the jobs. I don't even bother asking what his sources are, because he's bang-on every time. The target's always where he says it'll be, and we get paid. He don't even ask for that big a cut. Almost does it for free.

Course, Merlin just likes to lean back in the shadowy corners of the room. He don't talk unless he's got something to say. And when he talks, we all shut right up. But usually, he just looks around, listens, typical old man shit.

Then there's me. If there's a king in this banged up castle, it's me. Arcturus. I ain't so special but I keep this boat floating. I run her good. None of my boys know the first thing about running a ship. Except maybe Gav, but all he's ever good at is running ships with a crew of one.

I cracked my knuckles as the door closed behind me. I then looked from left to right, examining each and every face.

"This is it, boys," I said, "the heist of the century. Castle Morgana. On Planet Morgana."

"That's original," said Benny sarcastically, "what a retarded name."

"You look thirsty," I said to Benny, "go get yourself a can of shut the fuck up when I'm talking."

Benny sealed his lips.

Merlin just watched. He makes his judgments, real quiet like.

"Just so happens," I started up again, "we get two birds with one stone. We got ourselves a dead-or-alive bounty to pick up while we're there. But I'll get to him. Right now, we talk loot."