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

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Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One) Page 10

by Lawrence P White


  He discovered one hundred thirty-seven unauthorized subroutines before dinner. During the next two weeks they fixed those problems and ran extensive tests looking for more. When they were done, Jake pronounced all computers on the ship to be as reliable as he could make them. To the best of his knowledge, they now had an operational ship and could go anywhere in the galaxy they chose to go.

  Where would they go? Ellie wanted to go home. Not because she was homesick, but because her overriding concern was the fate of the Empire. Her home planet, Triton, had to be warned. Otis was more concerned with protecting the Heir. He wanted to get help before heading for Triton. He was concerned about who or what would be waiting for them on arrival there. Nothing short of a full battle fleet would satisfy him if they were to go to Triton. Mike sided with Otis, and Jake sided with Mike. They didn’t even know if the monarchy existed anymore. Because of that, caution seemed to be the wisest choice.

  Mike even suggested they find a safe hiding place on Earth for Ellie and the Heir while he and Otis went for help. She and Otis both balked at this suggestion. Otis would not leave the Heir, period. They simply had to manage the risk another way, yet they couldn’t just fly somewhere and sneak in. Every ship carried an identification beacon. The beacon automatically transmitted the ship’s identification and, in their case, the fact that it was a royal yacht.

  “What happens if we turn off the beacon?” Mike asked. “Will they see us then?”

  “We can’t turn it off,” Otis replied. “I’m pretty sure we’d lose George in the process. Without a beacon, System Administration would probably not notice us, but I have never heard of a ship’s beacon failing without the entire ship being lost.”

  Ellie finally agreed to let them go for help before heading for Triton. They chose a world called Gamma VI, headquarters for a squadron of ships headed by a Commodore Beggin, uncle to Ellie. She was absolutely certain that he could be trusted and that he would help. After Gamma VI, they would be in a position to approach Triton in force.

  Chapter Eight: Admiral Trexler

  They didn’t waste any time. Mike and George prepared a flight plan and everyone settled into their accustomed duties. Mike briefly reflected on the thought that he would soon be going into space for the first time ever, but he forced the thought aside. He could not afford distractions at this point. Instead, he mentally prepared himself for another training session, pretending that Resolve was still a giant simulator.

  It was just as well. Things didn’t happen the way they’d hoped. The moment they broke the surface of the ocean, George’s sensors discovered a dozen Chessori ships loitering in the distance, several within a few miles. The Chessori reacted quickly, closing the distance fast. Otis was first to fire, but Ellie and Jake were not far behind him. Resolve was quickly surrounded.

  Mike made a snap decision. He could not risk the Heir. Twelve to one odds were not something they could handle. Resolve hit the water on the way down almost as fast as she had come out of it. They were safe once again from Chessori weapons, but they were trapped. They’d been airborne for less than one minute.

  Mike controlled his nervousness and checked for Chessori followers, but Resolve was alone underwater. They spent the next few hours moving Resolve, then tried again. Again, the Chessori were on them in an instant. Back in the water, move the ship, time for a conference.

  Ellie and Jake wanted to run for it, just leave Earth as fast as possible, fighting their way through the gauntlet. Otis and Mike were not willing to simply chance things to fate. They had to find a better way.

  Mike removed his helmet and sat back in his seat with his eyes closed, thinking hard. After a time he picked up his helmet and plugged back into George. He was the only one still in the net. They held a brief discussion, Mike issued orders to George, and he unplugged. The others waited impatiently for an explanation.

  Ellie was appalled when he told them his plan. “No, Mike! You can’t do it. Earth is protected. The local inhabitants are not to know of our presence here. Please do not do this.”

  “Will the Chessori harm my people?”

  “You told us they’ve probably known about you for a while, but they have kept their presence hidden from the general populace. Now, the stakes are higher. I don’t know.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Without permission from higher up, most military units stick with standard procedure. I could be wrong, and if I am the plan might not work. They really want Resolve, but I’m betting they won’t attack anyone here on Earth.

  “Princess, my job is to get you home safely. Unless you can give me a better suggestion, we’re going to do this. You chose me as captain of the ship. As owner you gave me a destination. It’s my job to get you there, and you can’t be second-guessing me every step of the way. We have to work together. You have to support me, be a part of the team.”

  Mike expected quick acquiescence, but it took her a while. The concept seemed utterly foreign to her. “Mike, I have never been in a position where my instructions were not followed. Instantly. Including captains of my ships. Are you telling me that I cannot instruct you?”

  “We’re not talking affairs of state here, Ellie. You’ve decided on a goal, that of reaching your uncle on Gamma VI. Your orders to me are to take you there. I’m going to make lots of decisions along the way. Help me, disagree with me, argue against my ideas, but once decisions are made, I need you to back me up. Without exception. We all have to be focused on the same goal. When it comes to saving Resolve, you are not Daughter, you’re part of my crew. Can you do that?”

  “How unique! I’ll try. In fact, I think I like your system of doing things. My advice to you is that you cannot involve the natives of this planet. It is against all our rules, rules which are there for good reason.”

  “Okay. Thanks for the advice. I will limit the natives’ involvement as much as possible, but Ellie, they’re going to help. I hope.”

  It took George two days to find what he was looking for and to get them there. Traveling submerged was not a fast process. Using George’s sensors, Mike examined the U.S. battle fleet spread across the ocean before them. The nearest ship was some ten miles away.

  In spite of the confidence he’d shown Ellie, doubt assailed his every thought. His plan wouldn’t work. Who was he, Mike Carver, to be deciding these things? He must be out of his mind, but two days of debate had not provided a better solution.

  He was much more nervous about approaching the fleet than about what had to happen once he reached it. He was certain the U.S. Navy would take a dim view of anything approaching one of its aircraft carriers unannounced, particularly something that was under the water and acting like an enemy submarine. The fleet might open fire as a matter of policy. Yet, if they surfaced outside the ring of protecting ships, the Chessori would nail them. He had to talk with the fleet by radio, and Resolve had to be on the surface to do that.

  He gambled on the fact that the Chessori would not show themselves to the fleet, or that if they did, they would not chance damaging any of the “natives” by firing on him in their midst. His plan called for waiting until nightfall, but when they heard the pinging on their hull and saw the fleet pick up speed, then several ships and helicopters head their way, he knew he had no choice. Hoping he wouldn’t run into a submarine, not even knowing if surface fleets traveled with submarines, he directed George to take them as deep as they could go, then move to a position directly under the carrier. Quickly, knowing that lots of very sharp sailors were at general quarters and preparing to drop everything they could on him, Mike rushed Resolve to the surface beside the sprinting carrier before it had a chance to attack. With just a nudge, he lifted up to flight deck level and flew formation beside the carrier right next to its bridge. Surely they wouldn’t try to shoot down a UFO, at least not without lots of thinking and arguing first.

  He could almost feel the pandemonium on the ships, especially on the aircraft carrier mere meters away. Resolve, about two football fields in diam
eter, had to look intensely menacing to the crew of the carrier. Many, many, many weapons were trained on him at this instant, with just as many itchy trigger fingers. He didn’t waste time. George had a frequency chosen on a directional transmitter and opened the line with just a tiny bit of power.

  “We are not a threat to you,” he intoned carefully over the radio. “I would like to speak with the admiral commanding your fleet.”

  Mike waited tensely for a reply. It didn’t take long. “This is Admiral Trexler. Go ahead.”

  “Admiral Trexler, this is all going to sound pretty strange. Please bear with me, sir . . .”

  Mike had to assume the Chessori heard everything he said over the radio. Consequently, he could not lay all his cards on the table. Admiral Trexler was not easily convinced, but an alien spaceship hovering beside the bridge of the carrier was a powerful persuader all by itself. The admiral agreed to a meeting.

  Half an hour later, Mike opened a hatch on the top of the ship and climbed out as a helicopter hovered overhead. A figure in a bulky suit was lowered on a line, steadied by Mike, and the line released. Mike turned to lead the way back inside the ship when a gloved hand grabbed his arm. Moments later another figure started down from the helicopter. Mike was furious. His orders had been specific: the admiral was to have come alone. The admiral grabbed both of Mike’s arms and yelled at him that it was only his aide, there was no threat to anyone aboard the UFO.

  Mike gave in only because he had no choice and helped the aide to release the winch line. The helicopter lifted and turned away. He led the two visitors through the hatch, then locked the outer door behind them. The silence was deafening.

  Both visitors wore bulky suits to protect themselves and the rest of the fleet from alien germs. Mike peered through the admiral’s helmet to discover a thin face with deep blue eyes glaring back at him. A neatly trimmed mustache showing a few gray hairs bristled beneath a long, sharp nose. This man was clearly an athlete, not one of those arm-chair officers.

  “Thanks for coming, Admiral. I know it’s not a small thing that I ask.”

  “You’re right, son. Whatever goes on this day, it’s probably the end of my career. There’s no ‘right’ way to deal with aliens, but don’t worry about that. I happen to think this is worth the price. Let’s get on with it. You said you needed help.”

  “Yes, sir, but first I have to make sure you’re not armed. How am I going to do that with these suits you’re wearing?”

  “You’re not, that’s how. If we’re to be allowed to return to our ship, we cannot bring back alien germs. Surely you understand that. Furthermore, if you want my help, you’ll trust me or do without. I give you my word that we are unarmed. The U.S. Navy does not practice piracy. We are not here to take your ship, Mr. Carver.”

  “Very well, Admiral. Let me warn you, though, that we are not unarmed. Follow me, please.”

  Mike led them through the ship to the lounge where Otis and Daughter waited. Both suited figures froze at the sight of Otis. This was truly an alien being before them, and it looked vicious. When Otis reached out a hand in greeting, both figures stepped back, staring at long-nailed fingers where a paw should be. Otis spoke a few words, then stepped back. Ellie stepped forward with outstretched hand, and the admiral came to his senses. Both he and the aide greeted her with handshakes through their gloved hands, then the admiral walked over to Otis and extended his hand. Otis offered his toothy grin as he shook the outstretched hand, and the bold step taken by the admiral lessened some of the tension in the room.

  “Did you bring the camera?” Mike asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Go ahead and use it. Take pictures of anything you want. I’ll even show you the control room later if you’d like. We’re not trying to hide anything. You might bring back something of value to salvage your career.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Carver,” Admiral Trexler stated wryly. The aide removed a small video camera from an external pocket and stepped back to the wall, panning the room.

  Otis went back to his gun turret – someone had to mind the ship. Mike got right to work. He recounted the battle in the desert outside Reno and what had transpired since, leaving out any mention of Jake and being vague about who Ellie and her daughter were. He implied that they were simply political figures desperately in need of the admiral’s help. The story had huge holes in it, and he could tell that the admiral sensed those holes.

  “Just what did you have in mind from me, Mr. Carver?” Admiral Trexler asked.

  “I’m not sure. What I don’t want is for you to start shooting at the Chessori, and not just because they might shoot back. I’m told you’d be wasting your time. Your weapons will not penetrate their shields and would not be considered a threat by them. Besides that,” he looked furtively toward Ellie, then raised his chin and continued, “I don’t want to put the U.S. Navy, or humanity for that matter, in a position of taking sides in something they don’t understand. You can’t know who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. Nor do I, though I have strong reasons for supporting those on this ship. These are good people here, and their cause is worthy of your support, but I have never actually talked with a Chessori. They might also be good people. For all these reasons, no matter what happens here, the U.S. Navy is not to shoot at anyone. Does that work for you?”

  “It works very well, and it may be the only way you’ll get my help,” Admiral Trexler responded grimly. “Within those parameters, what do you envision me doing for you?”

  “I need two things. More, if you have suggestions. First, I need a diversion. I need to draw off some of those Chessori so we can make a run for it. Do you have any ideas?”

  They discussed maneuvering capabilities, speeds, weapons, and a host of other details, including the fact that the Chessori were spread out in a wide ring around Resolve, apparently hesitant to approach the fleet and be seen.

  The admiral thought for a while. “If I can give you a head start on half the Chessori ships, will that be adequate?” he asked. “Can you take care of the other half?”

  Mike had hoped for more, but he was grateful for that much. “That depends on my second request, sir. You see, I need another person. What I really want is someone else to fly this ship, someone more qualified than myself, but for the moment that’s not possible. I’ll settle for someone who can man a gun, someone who learns fast.”

  “And that someone would remain with you, perhaps never to return to Earth?”

  “I hope not, sir. I plan to come back. If we live that long.”

  “I see. So you require a volunteer who is psychologically capable of living with aliens, who can meld with your small group here, who is a fast learner, and who can shoot well. That’s a tall order . . .”

  The admiral’s eyes grew large as Mike heard a commotion behind himself. When he turned around, the admiral’s aid was unsealing the helmet to his suit. Mike watched, startled, as the features of a woman, a truly beautiful woman, emerged. A firm chin, wide mouth, green eyes, and red hair tied tightly into a bun on the back of her head were revealed as the helmet came free. The woman continued to remove her protective suit, revealing a tall, trim body in a one-piece coverall with lieutenant’s bars on the shoulders, her green eyes locked on the Admiral’s all the while.

  Trexler rose, angrily gesturing to her to stop but knowing it was too late the moment she had loosened the first seal. He suddenly looked old. “Not you, Reba. There are others.”

  “There will be no others, sir, not if these will have me. I meet all their qualifications, and I want this. Every sailor in the fleet would want it, but I’m here. It’s done.”

  “But your father!”

  She turned to Mike, her eyes dancing with excitement, her whole being radiating barely contained energy. “My father is Senator Morrison, an old friend of Admiral Trexler’s. He won’t like it, but he’ll understand. My name is Rebecca Morrison. Will you have me?”

  “It’s a little late for asking, isn’t it?” Mi
ke responded. “I had expected a man . . .”

  “Don’t even think it, Mr. Carver. Yes, I’m a woman. I’m also the best person you could get for this job. You will not regret my choice.”

  “Maybe not, but you might,” Mike answered with a grim smile. “Welcome aboard.”

  She turned back to the admiral. “I resign my commission, of course.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” he nodded, deflated. “We can’t have U.S. Navy officers shooting at aliens, can we?” He looked her in the eyes long and hard, willing this not to have happened. “If I wasn’t responsible for the fleet, I’d be the one staying,” he finally admitted.

  Without ceremony, Ellie walked over to Reba, took both of her hands in her own, and looked into her eyes. Then Mike realized she was really looking into her eyes, giving Reba the same treatment she’d given him. Poor kid, he thought.

  It didn’t take long. The admiral probably saw nothing unusual before Ellie stepped back half a step, supporting Reba while she recovered, and said “Welcome,” in Galactic High Standard.

  Before Mike could translate, Reba responded, shaken but clearly not as paralyzed as Mike had been after Ellie had finished with him each time. “Nice to meet you, too!” Then she shook her head and looked around as if seeing everything for the first time. Her gaze halted for a moment on Otis, then she said simply, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  They moved to the bridge where Mike joined the net to let George test solutions, presenting strategies on the screens for the admiral’s benefit. There would be no firing of Navy weapons, but short of that anything was okay. They were operating under the assumption that the Chessori would not fire upon Navy personnel, an assumption they were somewhat comfortable with, but everyone knew that it might not hold. A plan was finally agreed upon, and Mike unplugged.

 

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