Spirit of Empire
Last of the Chosen
By
Lawrence P. White
www.spiritofempire.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Lawrence P. White
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, email Lawrence P. White at [email protected]
First Kindle eBook edition February 2011
Cover design by Duncan Long
ISBN-13: 978-1-4563-3768-1
ISBN-10: 1-4563-3768-8
Contents
Part One – Survival
Chapter One: Falling Stars
Chapter Two: Rider
Chapter Three: Witch Woman
Chapter Four: Heir to the Empire
Chapter Five: The Net
Chapter Six: Struthers
Chapter Seven: Training
Chapter Eight: Admiral Trexler
Chapter Nine: Horn of Plenty
Chapter Ten: Lost In Space
Chapter Eleven: Struthers
Chapter Twelve: Tracker
Chapter Thirteen: Free At Last
Chapter Fourteen: Seer
Chapter Fifteen: Tarn’s Vision
Chapter Sixteen: Defeat
Chapter Seventeen: Four Hundred Years
Chapter Eighteen: Feelings
Chapter Nineteen: Warriors Talk
Chapter Twenty: Ellie’s Black Hole
Chapter Twenty-one: The Man of Dirt
Chapter Twenty-two: The Empire Is Not Dead
Chapter Twenty-three: Chandrajuski’s Vision
Chapter Twenty-four: A New Mission
Chapter Twenty-five: A New Crew
Chapter Twenty-six: A Visit to Rrestriss
Chapter Twenty-seven: Escape From Rrestriss
Chapter Twenty-eight: Mind Weapon
Chapter Twenty-nine: Loving Life Again
Chapter Thirty: Still a Cub
Chapter Thirty-one: The Other Side
Chapter Thirty-two: Into the Belly of the Beast
Chapter Thirty-three: Reba’s Battle
Chapter Thirty-four: Struthers
Chapter Thirty-five: Mike’s Awakening
Part Two – Val’s Story
Chapter Thirty-six: Beggar
Chapter Thirty-seven: Death of a Great One
Chapter Thirty-eight: At All Cost
Chapter Thirty-nine: Just a Number
Chapter Forty: No Secrets
Chapter Forty-one: Something Special
Chapter Forty-two: Val Waves Goodbye
Chapter Forty-three: Deportment
Chapter Forty-four: Twins
Chapter Forty-five: The First Vision
Chapter Forty-six: We Are All Tools
Chapter Forty-seven: Walking the Ship
Chapter Forty-eight: A Beggar Again
Chapter Forty-nine: Lianli
Part Three – You are Called
Chapter Fifty: For You Are Called
Chapter Fifty-one: Orion III
Chapter Fifty-two: The Lost Squadron
Chapter Fifty-three: Parson’s World
Chapter Fifty-four: Intrigue
Chapter Fifty-five: Catch-22
Chapter Fifty-six: Aldebaran I
Chapter Fifty-seven: Gleasons
Chapter Fifty-eight: The Last of the Chosen
A Note From the Author
Knights of the Chosen
Chapter One
Part One – Survival
Chapter One: Falling Stars
A meteor streaked through the darkening Nevada sky from right to left, snatching Mike’s focus from the road. His mind, sluggishly holding to alertness by a thread, perked up at this unexpected delight. A heartbeat later, he was treated to a rare phenomenon, two more meteors streaking behind the first. Then his tired mind sharpened, his brow creasing in disbelief. He could have sworn the three streaks turned down and to the left just before winking out. But that was not possible. Meteors don’t turn, they simply melt into nothingness.
Mike focused again on his driving, but moments later a bright beam of light reached silently across the heavens to touch something high up in the sky. That something winked brighter than a star. The beam of light instantly changed to a green color and pulsed rapidly. The winking target lit the night, seemed to turn sharply, but could not shake off the pulsing green tether attached to itself.
Mike’s weariness vanished in a wash of excitement. He stood on the brakes, then had to concentrate on controlling a minor slide as his speed dropped off. By the time he could spare a glance, the target of those pulses was a roiling fireball falling from the sky. A clap, like distant thunder, rolled over the car as he slid to a stop in the middle of the road. A grin lit his face as he hopped out of the restored Mustang convertible for a better look. Somebody was playing with new weapons. Had he just seen a successful test?
Area 51, Dreamland, our top secret research and development facility for military aircraft and weapons, reputedly called the vast area of desert to the south its home. Were they testing some kind of new weapon tonight? Right here, out in the open where anyone could see? It didn’t make sense, but something had surely blown up. That something was still streaming flames and molten metal as it continued its long fall toward the ground.
Light reached across the sky again, much closer to the ground this time and much closer to Mike as well. Another star flared into existence but responded with a rapid series of pulsed green beams of its own. It abruptly angled away, breaking the tether of light attempting to hold it, and disappeared. More flashes soon lit the sky, alternating between the two craft and creating tiny halos around each. Mike frowned. This didn’t look like a test, it looked like a fight. The fighting, if that’s what it was, steadily moved closer to him as he stood beside his car.
One of the craft staggered. Mike sucked in a breath when it abruptly swooped toward the ground, flattening its fall at the last moment to hit the road a couple of miles away at high speed. The craft caromed off the pavement back into the air, struggling to stay aloft but failing. When it hit again, pavement peeled up like a ribbon, curling up and over the craft. It emerged from the debris, airborne once more but barely above the ground. There was no doubt in Mike’s mind that the craft was in trouble and had chosen the highway as its emergency landing site. When it hit the road again, the craft slid along the highway, shoveling its way through a hail of pavement, dirt, debris, and sparks. He was directly in its path.
He cursed and took a few running steps toward the desert, then turned back, his mind on the important blueprints in the car. He couldn’t leave them under any circumstances. He reached across to the passenger seat and hefted the strap of an old duffel bag to his shoulder. With another glance at the mountain of dirt coming his way, he ran for his life, awkwardly adjusting the bag until it thumped across his back. Dodging the worst of the scrub and cacti as best he could in the failing light, his only focus was to put distance between himself and the road. The ground was soft, the whole area the remains of an ancient dry lake bed, and the going was hard. He stumbled and fell, a cloud of dust engulfing him, but with a fearful look over his shoulder he was up in an instant, sprinting for all he was worth, the heavy bag now held to his chest. He ran up and over a low outcropping of rock, then found himself running on air, his arms and legs flailing for balance. He fell several feet and hit hard, the win
d knocked out of him.
Dirt, rocks, asphalt, and an incredible cacophony of sound hammered Mike as he lay stunned. He kept his head down and didn’t see the Mustang disappear, engulfed without pity by the monstrous craft as it slid to a stop.
The noise died away, replaced by an ominous stillness. Mike rose to his knees, coughing and spitting salty dirt from his mouth, the smell of the lake bed filling his nose and mouth. Then he froze. A muffled clank followed by a thunk sounded through the dust from the direction of the crash. Not the sound of a crashed plane settling into its final resting-place, this sound spoke of doors or hatches unsealing in a hurry. He scrabbled on hands and knees to the top of the rocks and peered over. A huge disc-shaped craft had come to rest at an angle, its front end buried in dirt. His eyes were immediately drawn to a rectangle of light showing dimly through the dust beneath the back end of the craft. Short, thin, man-like creatures with large, bald heads appeared in the light one by one, dropping to the ground with hand-held weapons before them and spreading out to disappear into the murk.
Mike slid back down the rocks to the ground, his eyes staring but not seeing. The image of bald heads with huge eyes imprinted itself in his brain forever. These creatures were not from Earth, nor was their ship. They resembled artist’s conceptions of the Roswell aliens, but these aliens were very, very alive, and they were armed. Was he their friend, or was he their enemy?
In his own mind, he was neither. He was just Mike Carver, architect and engineer. His eyes went to the duffel bag with the drawings, the final drawings that had been his whole world until just a few minutes ago. The rest of his design team was already in Reno assembling the model of the new high rise hotel and casino complex, a massive project that his small company had won in competition against much larger competitors. Tomorrow was contract signing day and the beginning of the second phase, the construction.
His gaze still on the bag, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. No, it wasn’t going to happen now, not tomorrow . . . but it was going to happen even if it meant he had to walk the rest of the way on foot. He just had to get away from here, then he’d figure out the rest.
An explosion ripped the night, a bright beam of light reaching up from the crashed ship to impact against another craft with a tremendous crack. Mike’s breathing stopped. Were his eyes fooling him or was that a UFO up there? The halo of light outlining the ship dissipated quickly, and the ship disappeared into the dark. A series of rapid pulses hurled up from the crashed ship toward the UFO and lit it again. It staggered, then returned fire with one powerful blast. The blast striking so close by literally stunned and blinded Mike. When his vision returned, flames belched from a gaping hole in the side of the crashed ship.
More figures jumped from the burning wreck and spread out into the desert, though not in Mike’s direction. Then, to his dismay, the UFO returned. The ground behind him, his intended escape route, lit up as the immense disc drifted silently overhead, coming to a stop when its forward edge neared the crashed ship. Thirty feet above his head, the burnished skin of the ship completely hid the stars. A ramp dropped to the ground some fifty meters away from him, light pouring from the opening to light up a large area beneath the ship. That area included Mike’s hiding place. He froze, knowing that any movement from him would draw unwanted attention. Several big cats leaped down the ramp and disappeared into the brush. He chanced movement and peeked around the rock to discover aliens from the crashed ship working their way toward the UFO.
He was right between both groups.
Energy bolts from hand-held weapons split the night in both directions. Mike hugged the ground with his eyes shut, willing himself to melt into the dirt, his mind furiously seeking and discarding ideas. He had to get away. He mentally chose a direction away from both ships and opened his eyes, his muscles tensed to spring, but instead he froze with a scream dying in his throat. Orange, feral eyes attached to a vicious snout filled his vision from inches away, a creature from hell. Mike sucked in a breath, then wished he hadn’t – the smell of the creature’s breath nearly caused him to gag. The eyes blinked. Vertical, diamond-shaped pupils disappeared, then reappeared, staring into his eyes. The eyes blinked once again, lips rose to display jagged fangs, then the creature reached forward with a paw, caressing Mike’s neck and head. He sensed incredible power within the beast as it pressed his head firmly into the dirt. Then the touch was gone. Mike looked up, but the creature had melted into the surroundings without a sound.
* * * * *
As if awaking from a dream, he rediscovered the night air bursting with weapons fire. He’d been touched by an alien. It had communicated a simple message that he clearly understood.
Hide!
He numbly surveyed his surroundings and rose to a crouch, then flung himself back to the ground as the rock beside him exploded in a blast from . . . somewhere. That woke him up. This was bad, real bad, and no one was going to get him out of this mess but himself.
He scrabbled through the dirt to the edge of the rocks for a quick survey. To his left lay the crashed ship, seemingly dead now. His car lay somewhere out there in the dark beneath the hulk. In front of him and to the right, light streamed from the ramp near the center of the UFO. The ship itself was immense, some two hundred meters in diameter. Its bulk hid the night sky above him, its nearest edge a good 50 meters away.
He had no idea what the fighting was about, nor could he say who the bad guys were, though, surprisingly, he knew they were not the cats. A strong sense of rightness had come from the cat. It had told him to hide, but he would have preferred being offered a weapon. Here he was, caught right in the middle with no means of protecting himself. Nor did he see a way to hide. He couldn’t dig a hole, yet simply waiting for someone, or something, to come up and point a gun at him would not do either.
Another blast exploded against the rocks above him, forcing a decision. Grabbing his bag of plans, Mike turned until the light from the hovering UFO was off his left shoulder. He scrabbled straight ahead on hands and knees, dragging the heavy bag by its belt. He had not forgotten what he’d learned during his stint in the Army. He didn’t stop, just kept going through the dark for twenty or thirty feet, froze to listen and look, then went another twenty feet.
A new sound filled the night between the blasts from weapons, a high keening like the sound of cicadas. The sound struck him as something not of the desert, at least not the desert he knew, but he had bigger problems to worry about. The shooting became sporadic, possibly an indication of the number of contestants remaining, and Mike wondered which side was winning.
He stayed low as he continued crawling, lifting his head just high enough to survey the scene from time to time. Twilight had ended, the moon had not yet risen, and the desert sky beyond the edge of the ship was full dark now. The only light came from the ship and the occasional blast of a weapon. The crashed ship seemed deserted, and he gave serious thought to turning back in its direction since that’s where everyone else wasn’t, but the thought of encountering one of those hideous creatures in the dark revolted him. He wanted away from here, away from them, and away from the light. He turned his head to the left, studying the UFO and wondering why it didn’t turn out the lights.
Just then a man staggered down the ramp, a brightly colored cape billowing out behind, with his hands clamped over his ears and his body twisting in agony. Moments later a woman staggered down the ramp after him firing a blaster wildly, appearing unable to take aim. Two large cats sprang after the woman, knocking her to the ground at the foot of the ramp, but the man stayed on his feet. Twenty feet from Mike, between himself and the light, one of the bald-headed creatures rose silently from the desert. It pointed a weapon toward the UFO and took careful aim at the man.
Not pausing to think, just knowing the man was defenseless, Mike rose to a crouch, then sprinted toward the creature, tackling it from behind. It felt light as a feather and fragile, squeaking as it went down beneath him, its weapon flying from its hand.
Holding on with a death grip as they hit, Mike felt bones give way within the creature’s chest, and he sensed life flow from its body.
No! Gasping with shame and revulsion, Mike jumped to his feet with both hands brushing at his clothes of their own accord, trying to rid himself of the feel of the creature lying at his feet.
Blast! The searing heat of a near miss brought him back to his senses. He dropped to the ground, his hands searching for the weapon dropped by the alien creature. Discarding dirt, rocks, and the sharp, bristly branches of plants in the dark, eventually his fingers brushed against something hard and unnatural. He hefted the weapon gingerly, searching in the light from the ship for a trigger.
The weapon was about two feet long and felt like a toy in his hands. There was no trigger, but he did find two buttons on the grip. He pushed one, then the other, but nothing happened. Frustrated, he depressed both buttons at the same time. The weapon exploded a charge straight up, hitting the ship above him and ricocheting off. He cringed, but only for a moment. Yes! He had a weapon; he was no longer defenseless.
Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One) Page 1