Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One)

by Lawrence P White

Jake translated silently to Mike as she spoke. Mike dropped his hand, dumfounded. Wooldroo? The witch wasn’t even talking to him? This was not working.

  >Tell her I am not Wooldroo,< Jake demanded of Mike.

  >No! You tell me how to say . . .<

  The moment Mike dropped his hand, the woman realized her error. Though she needed to talk with Wooldroo, she had to do so through him, and she had neglected his very presence. Her eyes widened as her hand went to her throat. She looked disconcerted, then looked like she didn’t like the feeling, that it might be a new experience for her. Uncertain, she held her ground as silence prevailed. Then, a decision reached, she focused her eyes on him, on Mike Carver. Her gaze traveled his lanky frame from top to bottom, taking in his straight, jet black hair, black eyes, and rugged face. Did she notice his hands, so large and hardened that only a blacksmith would be proud of them? Did she sense the mixed heritage of American Indian and Scottish immigrant of which he was so proud, or did she just perceive a gangly, brutish, ignorant Homo sapiens?

  Her tone changed, becoming gracious. “Please forgive me,” she commanded, not sounding apologetic in the slightest as Jake translated. “Welcome aboard my ship. We have much to discuss. I am sure Wooldroo has explained everything. Will you help us?”

  Mike and Jake held another silent argument. >Mike, tell her. . .<

  >No! Show me how to tell her my name is Mister Carver to her, she’s not welcome, and how can she ask for help when she hasn’t even thanked me yet? She shot me, the witch! I want an apology!<

  Mike and Jake quickly learned how difficult holding a conversation with anyone other than themselves could be. Mike had to do the talking but didn’t know the words. Jake could tell him what sounds to make, but for Mike to form the strange sounds in his throat was time consuming, and when Jake refused to help: stalemate. Mike’s body stood mute with not a muscle moving.

  The silence became unbearable. The woman stared at him, then crossed her arms and frowned in a demanding way. Mike expected her foot to start tapping the floor any moment.

  >Mike, listen!< Jake demanded. >Think about someone besides yourself for a moment. She’s under incredible stress right now, and she’s bound to make mistakes. I warned you about Wooldroo – she thinks I’m him. What a mess! Have pity on her! Have you no conscience?<

  >So you’re my conscience, too?<

  >No, I am not your conscience. But you’d better start looking at the big picture. This ship started its voyage with one hundred and eighty-four people aboard, all relatives, friends, or acquaintances of hers. There doesn’t appear to be many left.<

  Remembering the scorch marks in the corridor outside the suite, Jake’s comment hit home. Seeing her through Jake’s eyes, he sensed the deep sorrow behind her outward expression of confidence. She might be an alien, but this lady was hurting inside. She had shot him . . . well, according to Jake she had stunned him, but to her the reason had been sufficient. Knowing what had to come next, that she would suffer yet more grief, Mike stepped forward, took both of her hands in his own, and risked looking into her eyes. The cat growled low in its throat but took no overt action to separate them.

  Jake helped him through the tortuous pronunciation, keeping it short and to the point. “I am sorry for your losses as well. I must add to your misery. Wooldroo chose to remain with Jornell. I am his child, Jake.”

  Disbelief showed in her expression. She searched Mike’s eyes, then without warning her eyes suddenly swelled, just as they had during the fight beneath the ship, holding him prisoner while her mind delved into and through his inner being. Though slightly more prepared this time, he still had no control over her probing. The experience was, if possible, even more distasteful.

  The attack lasted only an instant. Like a finger touching a hot stove, she was gone, a sharp cry escaping her lips. She backed away from him, her eyes wide with shock, holding a hand out to keep him away and shaking her head as if to chase out demons. Mike turned and staggered away on wobbly knees, revolted by the attack and overwhelmed with anger. He had no clear idea what she’d chosen to learn about him, but he suspected there were no secrets withheld from her against her will. He leaned against a wall feeling ill. Jake knew enough to remain silent.

  Chapter Four: Heir to the Empire

  Mike felt a hand on his cheek. He opened his eyes to find the woman before him, her wise, young-old eyes filled with sadness.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly as Jake translated. “Please forgive me. You need not fear my Touch again. I didn’t know the affect my probe would have on you.” She turned and walked slowly back to her seat.

  They all took a time out. For the first time since the spaceship had come crashing to the ground in the desert outside Reno, Mike took the time to really think about things, fundamental things like living and dying, killing, aliens and ‘First Contact,’ his future, the future of these aliens who in spite of what had been done to him he wanted to like. Days had gone by. What about his parents? Would they believe him dead? What about the wreckage of the UFO? Rumor had it that the remains of the Roswell aliens were stored in the Air Force’s Area 51. Well, they definitely had something to study now, lots of dead bodies and a whole ship. And what about his project? His mind couldn’t help latching onto his dream, the new gleaming steel and glass skyscraper that would forever change the Reno, Nevada, skyline. Representing months of hard work, his final drawings were here, not in Reno where they were needed. The best part of the project, the construction itself, would be awarded to someone else now.

  His thoughts turned to the cat. He had never been a cat lover in the past, and the quick feeling of kinship he felt around the cat surprised him. The cat sat beside the woman with its tail curled about its feet, eyes on her but ears twitching every once in a while, alert to every nuance within the room. It was no longer armed, though on second thought, looking at its clawed fingers and jagged teeth, he realized this beast would never be unarmed. Then he remembered; it wasn’t a beast at all.

  He queried Jake silently. >Can I talk to the cat?<

  >Yes. He is a Great Cat and a Protector. You can speak with him as well as you can speak to anyone before learning the language. I’ll help.<

  Mike sat on the couch, as far from the chair the woman occupied as he could get. He and Jake formed the sounds necessary for communication and a dialogue ensued, a strange enough activity, but even more strange was to hear words coming from the mouth of a cat. Surprisingly, its voice was deep and clear with no hint of hissing. Mike’s automatic prejudice towards animals, treating them as less than equal, disappeared completely. This creature was every bit his equal and probably lots more.

  His name was Otis. That wasn’t his true name, but he convinced Mike that human vocal cords could not produce the sounds necessary to speak his language. Great Cats that traveled from their home world had two names: their true name, and their working name. Working names were always simple and short.

  His species was known for its highly skilled warriors, individuals of great cunning and superior reflexes known across the galaxy as Guardians. The most highly skilled of the Guardians were known as Protectors, an elite cadre of bodyguards sought by the most wealthy and the most powerful. Otis was a Protector, the only survivor of eight others who had begun the voyage aboard this ship.

  A story unfolded through Otis, a story humbling in scope and encompassing vast stellar empires, fleets of starships, treachery, deception, murder, and a struggle for survival, the outcome of which was yet in question. The skirmish Mike had taken part in represented just one act of a play, or perhaps the final line of a tragedy depending on what happened next.

  This ship, its name translated by Jake as Resolve, escorted by two heavy squadrons of the Imperial Fleet, had begun its voyage several months earlier. The fleet’s purpose had been to formulate a treaty with a race of beings called Chessori, the small, all-white, bald-headed creatures Mike had already met. The treaty process, familiar and common within Otis’ Empire, ordinarily le
d to a centuries-long period of assimilating the new entrants into the Empire should both so choose. However, the Chessori were not just another race to be assimilated. Their case presented new challenges because they represented another whole empire. How large the Chessori realm was, how it was governed, and what other races their empire represented remained unclear to the Empire. Strangely, control seemed to rest in the hands of the Chessori rather than a conglomeration of member races, an issue of great concern and speculation within the Empire. In any case, trade had been taking place on the peripheries of the two empires for years. The Chessori were well-liked, respected, and anxious for this meeting. Every necessary resource had been placed at the disposal of the fleet. Some one hundred experts, all top leaders in their fields of government, politics, military, science, and business had filled Resolve to overflowing.

  The meeting had begun poorly. After landing on the designated world, they were advised that living accommodations were insufficient for such a large group. They were to remain aboard their ships except during meetings. Though strange, one had to remain flexible when dealing with aliens. Discovering such idiosyncrasies was, in fact, one of the purposes of the treaty process.

  After several days of deliberation, Jornell, the Empire’s lead negotiator, decided to entertain the Chessori. All ships on the ground opened their doors, Chessori guests boarded, and shortly thereafter the killing began. What happened aboard other ships was not certain, but aboard Resolve, bodies of every species convulsed in hideous pain. Through sheer determination and willpower, Otis and his associates, all Protectors, drew on deep reserves and forced themselves to function in spite of the terrible mind weapon. Though operating well below their peak efficiency, they prevailed and saved the ship. Resolve was the only ship that made it off the planet.

  The Chessori were slow to respond, almost as if they were surprised that anyone could function at all against their mind weapon, and they were right with the exception of the Protectors. Resolve, trailed distantly by six Chessori military ships, raced for the protection of the escort squadron orbiting the planet, but the squadron failed to respond. Clearly, the Chessori mind weapon was of sufficient strength to effect ships in space as well as on the ground. Resolve continued outbound, and to their surprise the Chessori ships remained behind to deal with the escort squadron. One by one, those ships ceased to exist.

  As soon as the mind weapon was no longer felt aboard Resolve, the Great Cats turned command over to Jornell, and the ship continued outbound. It soon became apparent why the Chessori military ships remained behind. Within days, a Chessori trader materialized on the outskirts of the system, and a few hours later a second appeared, both dropping from hyperspace in the vicinity of Jornell’s intended jump point. He altered course and set up a new jump point, and the two Chessori traders altered course to intercept him long before he would reach that point. Resolve was on its own and would have to fight.

  The crew had been decimated during the ground fight. Only six Protectors and four passengers survived. The only one fully trained to fly the ship was Jornell, and he could not function against the mind weapon. Any fighting would have to be done by the Protectors, all capable of operating the ship, but only marginally.

  They had a little under two weeks before merging with the two Chessori traders. During that time, two more Chessori traders materialized on the outskirts of the system and headed their way. The Great Cats spent hours training on weapons, and many more hours disposing of dead bodies. Cleaning robots were put to work to scour the worst of the remains from corridors and quarters, but it was a bad time for all.

  The two Chessori approached overconfident, clearly relying on their mind weapon to incapacitate the crew of Resolve. Otis had his gunners withhold fire until the Chessori were well within firing range, and when they opened up, the Chessori lasted only a few seconds. They had, apparently, not even felt the need to activate their shields, and Resolve’s weapons broke through the thin-skinned ships easily.

  They reached their jump point a week later with two Chessori close behind. A series of jumps toward home was begun, but to their surprise, the two remaining Chessori followed them. It was, theoretically, impossible to track someone through hyperspace, and this was the first any of them had heard of the possibility. The Chessori kept their distance, just showing up about half an hour after each jump, too far away to fight but definitely following them until a better opportunity arose. And a better opportunity did arise. For some unknown reason, Resolve’s last jump took them to the periphery of Earth’s solar system, completely removed from the set of coordinates Jornell had entered into the navigation computer.

  Otis was not certain why Resolve took them to the wrong jump coordinates, nor was the ship’s Artificial Intelligence, but he suspected treachery from within the Empire itself since any tampering with the system could only have occurred prior to the ship’s departure from its home world. Equally apparent was the frightening realization that such treachery would have required coordination with the Chessori, for they were waiting with four traders when Resolve dropped from hyperspace. It must have been part of a back-up plan.

  An immediate jump was attempted, but every jump failed. Repairs were not possible before the battle was joined.

  Mike’s home world was classified as an emerging world, off limits to all, a niche occupied by young, sentient worlds not ready for admittance to the Empire. Yet, outnumbered and with malfunctioning navigation computers, where else could they go? The planet offered possible survival. If worse came to worse, they would ground the ship and merge the few remaining crew into the general population as best they could. What would happen after that was unknown.

  Otis’ men were effective. By the time Resolve reached Earth’s atmosphere, three Chessori had been taken out and another damaged badly enough that it left. Mike knew the rest. Resolve took out one more Chessori while transitioning the upper atmosphere and damaged the last a short time later. They could have destroyed it, but Jornell made a last minute decision to capture Chessori survivors for interrogation. He desperately wanted to find out what was going on, why the meeting had been such an utter failure, how the Chessori had tracked them to Earth, and who else was involved.

  “You mentioned that this ship was the prize. Why?” Mike asked with Jake’s help.

  The woman stood up from her chair, and Otis’ attention went to her. “I will answer that,” she said. Mike turned to find her staring at him, though he got the impression that she was looking at him as Mike Carver this time rather than Earthman or soldier or carrier of a parasite, or perhaps servant or slave.

  She stretched, taking her time, then took several steps. She paused, uncertain, started to say something, stopped and took a few more steps, then turned to face him, frustration and uncertainty evident in her every action. “Mr. Carver, please forgive me. I do not understand your reaction to my probe. I didn’t know . . . No. I do not apologize; I will explain later. Though I do not apologize, I’m sorry for what has happened to you, what I have done to you. I take full responsibility. You chose to help us. In doing so, more than you can possibly know has been spared, at least for a time.”

  Before he and Jake could formulate a reply, she continued, “On behalf of myself and my people,” she said softly as she looked him in the eye, ”thank you.” She started pacing again, then stopped before him. “Mr. Carver, I am called ‘Daughter.’ Pleased to meet you.” Responding to his surprised look, she said, “Yes, I have been listening. May I call you Mike?”

  He and Jake had a brief squabble; Mike lost. He nodded his head and stood up with his hand held out. She looked at it for a moment, then shook it briefly. “Pleased to meet you, too. Maybe,” he added with a troubled look.

  “Thank you!” she said brightly, choosing to ignore the sarcasm or, perhaps, not understanding it. Mike wasn’t sure if Jake was helping him produce the exact phraseology he intended. “Mike, you need not fear a repeat of my probe. You may eventually understand its purpose, but I wi
ll not force it upon you again, ever. You have earned that right.”

  He shuddered, and she waited patiently for Jake and him to coordinate a response. It took a while. Jake did not like his choice of words. “I’m supposed to take your words on blind faith?” he asked.

  She stepped back and shook her head as if she’d heard wrong. “I beg your pardon?”

  >I told you, Mike,< Jake grumbled. >It was a bad choice of words. I know you don’t understand, but she can’t lie to you, or to anyone else for that matter.<

  “What?” he said aloud to Jake.

  “You don’t believe me?” she asked, still confused, but growing angry.

  “No! No, I was talking to Jake,” he answered as quickly as Jake fed him the words. “He said you can’t tell a lie, or something to that effect.”

  >Jake, what the heck’s going on here?< he demanded silently.

  >She will not lie to you, ever,< Jake stated, then shut up.

  She sat down on the couch, her back ramrod straight, and faced him. “Mike, things are going on around you that you do not understand. We’re trying to explain. Will you listen, please? Decisions must be made, and soon.”

  He nodded and sat back down on the far end of the couch, sensing his lack of understanding and wishing he had more control.

  “Let me make this as simple as I can,” she stated, her hands in her lap again as if she was lecturing. “We need your help. No, let me put it more correctly – the Empire needs your help. This is not something we can coerce from you, it must be given freely.”

  “You need something built?” he asked surprised.

  “Built?”

  His reply took a while, and it came in pieces as Jake fed him a few words at a time. “I’m an architectural engineer. I build things, and I’m darn good at it. I’m known as one of those people who gets things done, but what could your empire possibly need me to build?”

  A smile touched the edges of her mouth, and her eyes sparkled for an instant, then she sobered. “I wish it was that simple, Mike.” She paused, troubled, and turned away. “I need you to think big on this, real big. Otis told you that what you have participated in so far is but a small piece of something much larger, that those of us on Resolve are the sole survivors of a group which began with several thousand. What he has not told you is that we have reason to believe the destruction of the treaty mission was cover for something much larger. Mike, there might be an attempt in progress to overthrow the legitimate government of the Empire.”