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

by Lawrence P White

  “Well met, Sir George,” she replied, tears glistening in her eyes as she reached out for his hand, helping him to his feet.

  “Well then, are you ready to continue?” he asked.

  “Lead on,” she commanded.

  George’s image began thinning, turning transparent, then disappearing altogether. But his presence did not waver. His spirit embraced them all as they felt themselves lifted. “Let’s fly!” he cried.

  To everyone’s great relief, Ellie was in and she never looked back. In fact, she was usually the first to join the net each day, spending even more time with George than did Mike and Jake. She flourished, her appetite returned, and she was a happier person in every way, both inside and outside the net. The black hole she protected was still there, and Mike didn’t know what she kept bridled up inside of it, but whatever it was, it did not appear to hinder her activities in any way. She, a person who had never been allowed to interface with machines, soaked up everything George sent her way. She was fully a part of the team that would take them from Earth.

  Chapter Six: Struthers

  “What do you mean, she escaped?” Struthers shouted. “Impossible! No one can function against the scree.”

  “I don’t know how she did it, Sire,” his Chief of Staff, Sorn Jirdn, answered, his eyes widening in surprise at the explosion coming from a man known for his iron control, a control always maintained even in the face of the worst disasters. “We believe she’s still on the emerging world. The Chessori have dispatched more ships.”

  “Well, send one of our squadrons to back them up. I can’t trust them with this. It’s too important.”

  “Very well, Sire.”

  Struthers sat back down behind his desk, fuming. How had she done it? It should have been no contest. The outcome of the meeting on Dorwall had been certain. The Chessori claimed no one was immune to the scree. Could they be wrong?

  His eyes narrowed as he considered. After a time, he picked up his communicator. “I need to see you,” he stated in no uncertain terms.

  Several minutes later the diminutive form of a Chessori entered without knocking, its all-white body completely naked, sexless, and hairless, its large elliptical black eyes utterly without expression. Struthers still couldn’t tell if it was Burjosk, and it very well might not be. They all looked the same to him. He started to ask but pushed the thought aside.

  “Your men failed,” he said.

  “I know. It will not happen again.”

  “What happened? You assured me that no one was immune to your scree. You must be wrong.”

  “No, I am not wrong. I do not know how they got away.”

  “Well, I think I know. Have you tested the scree against a Protector?”

  “I have not. They are not exactly willing to submit to a test. We have never encountered a species that is immune, and I see no reason to consider them an exception.”

  “I do. Someone managed to get that ship away from Dorwall. Find a Protector and test it.”

  “They have all left Triton, those that survived.”

  “I know that, but there are plenty of Guardians on other worlds. Find one and test it, then kill it. We can’t let it know about the scree.”

  “If the Guardian continues to function, and I admit that I, too, can find no other explanation, it will be dangerous for my men. These Guardians are lethal.”

  “So take precautions,” he said impatiently. “And get moving on this. I need answers.”

  “Very well.”

  The Chessori turned and left. Struthers frowned. He hated the creatures, but he needed them. The neutron bomb at the Palace had been easy. The act of taking out the leadership of the Empire had been child’s play even if events leading up to it had not. He had lived in mortal fear of a Testing for years as he put his plan together. A single Testing would have uncovered all his plans, but the Queen had become overconfident and too certain of her staff.

  Staff. He hated the word. His elevation to First Knight had been exhilarating at first, but he had soon grown bored of the position. He never let it show, his work never suffered, but he wanted more. The Chosen were so focused on people that they ignored some of the most elementary economic principles. It was trade that would carry the Empire forward, not the masses. Who cared about the masses? With the exception of the wealthy and powerful, people were just consumers of trade goods. So long as businesses prospered, so, too, would the Empire, and he could do something about that now that he was in charge.

  On the surface, that’s what drove him and his movement. Deep down, though, it was something else. It was the same thing that had driven him to seek the position of First Knight: a craving for ultimate control. As First Knight he had sensed fulfillment of that craving, but he had never achieved it. Now he had, and the feeling truly empowered him. There was nothing holding him back now. There was nothing he could not achieve, nothing the Empire could not achieve. The politicians, the wealthy, and the powerful would soon be in his pocket, and he would rule all of them.

  He had some cleaning up to do, but the plan was on track. Politics came first, and close on its heels came control of the military. New governors were moving out to the sectors, and he would eventually clean out those that did not comply with his demands. Those new governors, with his assistance when needed, would bring the military into the fold, then even the rich and powerful would have to lower a knee to him.

  The Imperial Senate was child’s play; they’d follow whomever wielded the biggest club, and that was him.

  He was still peeved about Veswicki, Governor of Triton. What bad luck that he had been away from the Palace when the bomb had gone off. The hunt was on for Veswicki, but for the moment he had slipped through their fingers, and he was a dangerous one.

  Few others had escaped. His men were mopping up those who had, and his plans for the fleet were actually ahead of schedule. Chessori observers had quietly been placed aboard a few ships of the fleet, and results were promising. In some Sectors, promotions had bought loyalty, plain and simple. With new captains handing out promotions down the line, crews tended to do just as they’d been trained to do: follow orders.

  The Empire was dead. His men were filling the vacuum, all according to plan. But Daughter’s existence continued to nag at his thoughts as he worked. Eventually, he put his personal pad aside and went to the liquor cabinet. It was early, but that was okay. He was the most powerful man in the galaxy, and he could do as he pleased.

  Yet thoughts of Daughter continued to plague him as he tried to relax.

  Chapter Seven: Training

  The days on Resolve were long, full, and not all fun and games as they struggled to function as a team. They encountered challenges that some mastered better than others. Mike frustrated everyone by insisting on learning the technology behind everything they experienced. He wanted particulars, he wanted designs and blueprints, he wanted to know the math and science behind processes, and he insisted on doing things over and over again until he felt he understood.

  Jake worked hard to move him past details. He encouraged Mike to focus, instead, on affects, and he constantly reminded him to “feel” the information presented by George, to guide George in defining what information was needed, then use George’s results. He didn’t need to understand processes. Full understanding could come later, probably much later, if Mike really wanted to pursue it. They didn’t have time now.

  Ellie was the first to sense the source of his difficulty. After dinner on her third day in the net, she led him to a couch in the lounge and took both of his hands in her own. After the wonderful hours within the net, Mike had thought he was no longer afraid of her, but he stiffened when she took his hands and was afraid to look into her eyes.

  “Relax, Mike. I won’t use my ‘eye thing’ on you,” she said. He looked at her, surprised. “Yes, I have not forgotten. I will never forget the feeling of horror you experienced.”

  “You knew?”

  “Yes. My Touch is sensitive to f
eelings. I have used the Touch many, many times, but I have never sensed anything like what you went through that day. While there is no known method for resisting my Touch, the horror you felt literally drove me away. I hope to never experience the feeling again, and I have promised to never subject you to it again without your consent. Someday I will explain my eye thing to you. For the Empire, it is a powerful gift, with damning consequences for some and wonderful resolution for others. The ability to use it has placed a yoke about my neck that I will never be free of.

  “But enough of that. I have a gift for you, though in truth it’s a gift for Otis and me, as well.”

  She reached into a pocket and withdrew several pieces of jewelry. She attached one to her ear, tossed another to Otis, then extended her hand to show him a small fan-shaped grill of thin golden mesh. Without asking, she reached up and clipped the charm to his left ear.

  “It’s a translator device,” she explained. “You can speak to us in your own language, and the devices that Otis and I wear will translate for us. The reverse also holds true for the one you wear. Jake will not have to spend all his time translating what we say. George has been working on these since you awoke and spoke your first words, and he has accumulated data from various broadcasts from your planet as well. He’ll continue working on upgrades, but he believes these are a good beginning.”

  Without hesitation she moved to the next issue on her list. Mike was still fiddling with the ear mesh as she spoke. “We must talk about Michael Carver,” she said.

  His fiddling came to an abrupt halt. This didn’t sound good. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

  “Mike Carver is slowing us down. As wonderful, as intoxicating as playing within the net is for us, we cannot forget our purpose. Do you recall that purpose?”

  “Sure, we protect the Heir at all costs, and we get you home to find out what’s happened to your Empire.”

  “Very good. Tell me, how is your understanding of the principles behind our drive system going to help us achieve that goal?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. You never know until you need to know, but I hate doing anything half way.”

  She raised her eyebrows to him with an expectant look on her face, but he just returned the look. “Okay, let me put this another way,” she said, starting over. “In what way will your understanding of the mathematical calculations needed for maintaining adequate hydration in the hydroponics system assist us in protecting the Heir.”

  “What if it breaks?”

  “Are you going to fix it?”

  “Maybe . . .”

  “Mike, George doesn’t even have to fix stuff. There are separate computers for everything in Resolve. George only monitors them and gives them a push now and then. Most of it is completely automatic. You know all this as well as I do.”

  “I know, but I’m an engineer. I can’t help it.”

  “We can’t stay here for twenty years while you learn all this stuff.”

  “I know we can’t.”

  “And I know you know. I sense your understanding through your feelings on the net, and it doesn’t require my special Talents, it only requires caring. Mike, I like the Mike Carver I’ve met on the net. You’re the right person for this job, and you’ve restored my hope in our eventual success. I’m glad I shot you.” She followed that statement with a big smile, hoping to take the sting out of her words.

  “What?” he bellowed, jumping to his feet.

  “Sit down, Mike,” she ordered, the smile gone.

  He sat without thinking, then wished he hadn’t. She could order people around better than anyone he’d ever met. You didn’t even know you’d complied with an order from her until it was too late.

  “Yes, I’m glad I shot you,” she continued. “You are the right person for us. You may not know it, but you’re adapting to George better than Jake is, and that’s saying something.”

  She folded her hands in her lap as she settled into her lecturing mode. “Let’s talk about being an engineer. You’ve been trained to convert ideas, raw materials, and technology into finished products, whatever they may be. Those skills, as wonderful as they are, aren’t needed here. Mike, the ship needs . . . no, I need Mike Carver to find a way to become an end user of the product other engineers have built. You don’t need to know how to build a spaceship in order to fly one, nor do you need to know how the power plant works in order to make the ship go fast or slow. You only need to command George. You do not need to know how George has been created or what makes him tick. You do need to know how to work with George, to use George’s knowledge and talents to their fullest, then to command him. That’s the only purpose of this training. And George wants to be commanded. He is acting as a teacher now, but he prefers to make suggestions and to be commanded.”

  “What do you mean ‘he prefers?’ He’s a machine.”

  Now it was her turn to be startled. “Do you hear yourself?” she asked. “Jake, hello, are you in there? Does he believe what he just said?”

  >Do you, Mike?< Jake asked.

  “Look, he was built,” Mike reminded them.

  “Then why did you give him a name?” Ellie asked softly.

  That gave him pause. “He’s a machine with a personality, and I like him. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s a machine. Are you saying he’s a real person? Are your computers so advanced that they’re alive?”

  Ellie looked troubled. “I don’t know. We have referred to those of George’s stature as being ‘nearly sentient’ artificial intelligences. We may be wrong.”

  She clasped her hands nervously in thought, then shrugged and turned back to him, her body language telling him she was making a demand of him this time, not a request. “Mike, please hear me. For me, for the Heir, for the Empire, please, please stop being an engineer. Let George and his network of computers do the hard stuff. You need to guide, that’s all.”

  “What if George breaks?”

  >George can’t break, Mike.<

  “Any of us can break,” Mike answered aloud to both of them. “I’ve spent my whole life either fixing things or trying to design them so they wouldn’t break.”

  “Thank you, Mike. You answered your own question,” Ellie responded.

  “What?”

  “You design things so they won’t break. How successful are you?”

  He squirmed. “Only moderately successful. Things wear out, you know.”

  “Not ships. And certainly not George. Is it fair to say that our engineers and scientists are more advanced than your own?”

  “Well . . . ”

  “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  He pursed his lips. “I find it hard to believe things don’t break.”

  “When it comes to our ships, they don’t,” Ellie said sternly. “Trust me on this.”

  He hung his head in defeat. Besides, even if something did break, who was he, Mike Carver, to fix it? And in his gut, he knew she was right. They didn’t have twenty years for him to get comfortable.

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “Time is of the essence, and I’m slowing us down. That’s not acceptable. This whole thing is probably a long shot anyway. I can make myself back off. It won’t be easy, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you, Mike. Jake and I will help.”

  “Jake is our captain. You and I are just along for the ride. I can work on those terms, though there’s definitely a place for us in this. You’ve got a pretty good handle on things yourself, you know.”

  She blushed at the praise but nodded her head. “I think I’m having fun for the first time in my life, and I like George. I wish this was all under different circumstances. I wish we had more time.”

  Mike didn’t change overnight, but he worked hard on it. George’s programming required that he answer questions when asked, but he and Mike had a private conversation about when he should and when he should not provide too much intimate detail. Following that conversation, George didn’t hesitate to remind Mike
when he thought it was time to move on to something else. Of course, Ellie and Jake did not hesitate in the slightest when they grew impatient. Mike made himself listen to them.

  Ellie surpassed her own expectations. They no longer feared for her, no longer pampered and protected her. Though individually none of them had the desired backgrounds needed of a ship’s captain, George had cunningly created a virtual enhanced team of Jake/Mike/Ellie that worked well. If they ran into serious problems on their trip, well . . . they would cope.

  It didn’t take long for the feelings they experienced with each other inside the net to carry over to their time outside the net. Feelings of distrust and isolation between Ellie and Mike, so pervasive at first, gradually faded away. Jake, an equal partner within the net, remained a member of their small group outside the net, as well.

  Mike focused hard on learning to speak Ellie’s language, Galactic High Standard, knowing it would improve his usefulness in the long run. Speaking inside the net was instantaneous and did not require translation, and the translating devices attached to their ears enabled functionality outside the net, but Mike wanted to do away with them. It made their lives a little harder, but he learned, and Ellie enjoyed lots of laughs at his expense.

  The pace was frantic and productive. They mastered the net and were proud of it. When George informed them it was time to move on, to put their training to work, Ellie called a time-out. They celebrated their graduation over lunch, and when Ellie showed up with a child in her arms, Mike and Jake finally got to meet the focus of their efforts.

  Alexis was seven months old. To Mike she looked like all babies, cuddly and helpless. He saw nothing at all special about this very special child. He resisted the urge to talk baby talk and to make a fool of himself by making weird faces at Alexis. Instead, he simply held his arms out. Ellie handed her over without hesitation, though Mildred, the nanny, was more reserved.

  Mike quickly understood why Mildred had not been used as a repository for Jake. She was intelligent, chatty, and comfortable within the group, but her life began and ended with Alexis. She was probably the perfect nanny and deeply loved the child, but she cared little for their progress on the net or even their immediate prospects for escape, except insofar as those prospects impacted Alexis.