“And his hands and a rake, maybe his boots. You must have seen his hand if he accepted the pin. This is very important, Krys.” Tarn turned his head to look at Chandrajuski, then returned his focus to Krys.
“Was the pin open?”
She closed her eyes again. “No, but there is a dim flash of light just before the workman closes his hand around the pin.”
Tarn’s eyes closed. He rested a hand on Krys’ knee and hung his head.
Chandrajuski did not hang his head. His fists batted together, and his mouth opened wide to display his many, many sharp teeth. “She lives,” he breathed softly.
“I don’t understand, sir?” Krys asked.
Chandrajuski’s head lowered toward her. “A Knight’s Pin can only be activated by a Chosen. Once activated, it serves as an undeniable form of identification for the Knight. He only has to pass his hand over it to open it. No one but the Knight to whom it is awarded can open the Pin, ever, and if either the Chosen or her Knight are dead, the Pin will not open.”
Chandrajuski’s head moved even closer to her. “You saw a flash of light. I believe the pin tried to open during the exchange and the Knight quickly closed it again.”
Her mouth opened in awe. She looked at Tarn and their gazes locked. No words were needed.
Tarn stood up. “Since this is a vision of the future, the Chosen who activated the pin must be alive. It’s as revealing as if you’d seen her in person.”
“Daughter lives,” Chandrajuski breathed, “just as you told us she did, Krys. What about the rest of the vision?”
Tarn turned back to Krys. “You saw a rake and two legs. Was the Knight a human?”
“Yes. He had two legs, workman’s boots, and two hands. One hand held a rake, and the other reached for the pin and took it.”
“Took it how? Was it just a normal exchange, or was it hurried?”
She stared at him in amazement. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Ask just the right questions? The exchange was quick, almost furtive.”
“Then the meeting was probably clandestine. Could they have been hiding their actions from recorders?”
“I have no recorders in that part of my home,” Chandrajuski said.
“Maybe not right now, but things change. ’Easy to leave, hard to remain,’ Tarn repeated. “Might you be a prisoner in your own home, Admiral?”
Chandrajuski stared at him for a time, then his mouth opened to display his many, many sharp teeth again. His closed fists batted against each other. “This is my Sector.”
Krys stared at him, then rose. “Consider your own orders, sir, the orders you’ve asked me to pass along to others. They are to hold for as long as they can. If holding becomes untenable, they are to gather all their resources together and flee. Might you have failed to follow your own instructions?”
“Or maybe chosen to disregard them, sir,” Tarn completed the thought. ‘Easy to leave, hard to remain.’ Which will you choose?”
“Sir,” Krys said, “let me remind you that this is all in the future, and I don’t know how far in the future it is.”
“Still, this knowledge is . . . useful. Your vision is useful.”
“We’re not done yet, sir,” Tarn said, his eyes moving back and forth between the two. ‘She will fall to the unseen, but death is not forever.’ Those words trouble me greatly.”
“They trouble me as well. Who is ‘she?’” Chandrajuski said.
Tarn got up to pace, deep in thought. Krys lost her sense of triumph – she knew who ‘she’ was. She waited to see if Tarn would reach the same conclusion.
He took a slightly different tack. “Who is the man of dirt?” he mumbled. He turned to Krys. “Could it be Val? Could he be the man of dirt in your earliest vision of Daughter?”
“He came to her aid once before. Maybe he did again, but it doesn’t feel right, Tarn. I don’t think it’s Val.”
“We know that the man of dirt comes to Daughter’s aid, and now he comes to one in shadow. If he’s here, and if he was with Daughter earlier, then Daughter might be with him now. The word ‘she’ could refer to her.”
“I’m certain it does,” she answered softly. “She is a thread through several of these visions.”
Tarn turned to Chandrajuski. “I wonder if the easy way out might be better, sir.”
Chandrajuski backed away from him deep in thought. “What you say might be true, Ensign. If she comes here, it looks as if she might be killed by the unseen. Who are they?’”
“They, or it. The word carries both meanings.” Tarn shook his head. “I have no clue, sir. It could be someone in hiding, or even someone in plain view that she doesn’t consider a threat. Maybe a traitor.”
“Death is not forever,” Krys reminded them.
Chandrajuski batted his fists together in frustration. “Unacceptable. Forever can be a long time. We need her now, and we need her alive.”
“That’s the problem with these riddles, Admiral. They raise more questions than they resolve.” She stood up and faced Tarn. “Any more thoughts?”
He shook his head, his gaze moving back and forth between her and Chandrajuski. The mood in the room darkened.
Chandrajuski’s focus went internal for a time. When he spoke, it was softly. “The words ‘easy to leave, hard to remain,’ call to me. They’re telling me it is wrong to take the easy way out, yet it seems that if I stay, Daughter dies. We cannot allow that under any circumstances. There is no higher priority than keeping her alive.”
Tarn faced his commanding officer, standing rigidly tall. It was not his place to admonish admirals, but he could not leave with the words unsaid. “There’s another possibility, sir. What if she falls to the unseen because you take the easy way out, because you leave.”
Chandrajuski stared at him for a long time. “You present an unsolvable dilemma, Ensign.”
“I know. I’m sorry, sir.”
Chandrajuski turned to Krys. “Can you offer any further guidance?”
She considered. This truly was a dilemma. Her mind went back to the two years she had spent with Daughter. They had come to a world called Lianli. An unexpected meeting had taken place there, a meeting with herself, Val, Daughter, Otis, and the inhabitants of that world. She considered all that had happened there and suddenly felt at peace, as if her feelings were just right.
“Actually, I can, sir. These are not my words, and I cannot reveal their source, but I tell you that in all things you must listen to your heart.”
Chandrajuski backed away from her. “Those are the words of a woman, not a fighter.”
“Not true, sir. I am not the only one to foretell our present difficulties, I am just the only Seer that we know of.”
“You speak in more riddles.”
“Only because I must, sir. The words are a gift from someone wise beyond our comprehension, someone who knew what was coming, though they did not share specifics with us. We were called, Daughter and I, and I believe you have been called, as well. Daughter was there when these words were spoken, and I speak in her name when I tell you to trust in your heart. Listen to your heart, Admiral. What you find there will be true.”
“You speak in her name?” Chandrajuski asked in awe.
“In this, I do.”
Chapter Twenty-four: A New Mission
When they left Sector Headquarters, Tarn lifted his communicator to summon a flitter. Krys placed her hand on top of the communicator to stop him.
“Let’s walk,” she said.
He nodded, clearly unsettled with what he had just been through. It was not every day that an ensign offered counsel to a Sector Commander. He felt overwhelmed, even a little ill. The more he thought about it as they strolled toward the spaceport, the more ill he felt. A hand went to his stomach, and he winced.
She noticed. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not. Excuse me.” He ran to a row of nearby bushes and leaned over. The remnants of his lunch were soon
on the ground. Krys felt a strong urge to go to him, but she knew he’d rather have privacy so she turned away. When he returned, he was wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
“Sorry,” he said in embarrassment. “I hope I never have to go through that again.”
She took his arm and turned toward the spaceport again. “You were spectacular in there.”
“I’m just an ensign, Krys. It’s not my place to counsel admirals, and I don’t like it.”
“So now you know how I feel about being a Seer.”
“No, I don’t. You’re grand and calm and collected. You act as if talking with admirals is an everyday thing.”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Figure out my visions.”
“I just offered some suggestions, that’s all. And we didn’t figure out the whole vision.”
“Nor did we figure out the whole vision I had of you on the cruiser, but you’re getting better, just as I’m getting better. You got most of it.”
“I wish I knew what the ‘unseen’ referred to.”
“You will eventually.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t know if there will be an eventually. The mission to Dorwall is over, so I’m no longer your aide. I don’t know what my next assignment will be. How about you? What are your plans?”
“I’m going back out. Daughter lives, so the line of Chosen is not ended, but no one knows. Admiral Chandrajuski is preparing a list of sector commanders who need to know, and I’m the messenger.
“Uh . . . why are you telling me all this? Am I supposed to know?”
“You might as well know. You’re going with me.”
He stopped walking, almost as if he’d run into a wall. He turned and stared at her, too surprised to say anything.
She grinned and took his arm, prodding him toward the spaceport. “You’d better get used to speaking with admirals, and maybe governors and Imperial Senators. They’re all on the list. We’re getting a new ship, and he’s sending Protectors with us.”
He stopped again and turned to face her. “Tell me you’re serious.”
“I am serious, Tarn. It’s voluntary for the rest of our crew, but not for you.”
“I’ll gladly volunteer. You know that.”
She took his arm and headed toward the space port. “I do know, and thank you.
Chapter Twenty-five: A New Crew
Stven kept only Tarn and Petty Officer Nan Gortlan, his engineer, from his present crew.
“You have no restrictions on who you select,” Krys instructed him, “but don’t take too long. If you do, Admiral Chandrajuski will find them for us. It’s going to be a long voyage, and it will benefit all of us if our group is tight.”
“When do we get the details?” Stven asked.
“As soon as the admiral gives you his blessing. Not before. Sorry. Whoever you find, they must be absolutely trustworthy, and rank is not an issue.”
Stven’s shiny purple scales contrasted sharply with the dull brown coloring of the Schect he showed up with later that day. Unless you were another Schect, you would find little attractive in the physical appearance of this creature. His six-foot long body bore a strong resemblance to an overcooked sausage. At present, he stood partially erect on six lower hands while his upper hands preened; his remaining two hands were idle. Hard, serrated mandibles protruded from each side of his mouth, two long sensory antennae sprouted from the top of his head, large, multifaceted eyes that saw in all directions dominated his head, and a shriveled face covered with whiskers completed the package. He crossed the deck toward Krys with his uppermost hands rapidly preening his whiskers.
He stopped in front of her and the preening stopped. “Lieutenant M’Sada reporting, Ma’am.”
“Welcome aboard. What is your present job, Lieutenant?”
“Captain of a fighter, just like Lieutenant Stven,” the creature responded.
“And you would do what for me?”
“Lieutenant Stven has been persuasive. Whatever you need, Ma’am.”
“Lieutenant Stven is our captain. Wouldn’t working under him be a demotion?”
“He believes your mission to be of great import and possibly clandestine. Is he right?”
She looked at Stven in surprise. She had not said anything to him about the nature of their mission, but he was a Rress. His powers of reasoning would naturally be considerable.
“He is right on both counts.”
M’Sada lowered his upper hands until his head touched the deck. “I’m honored to be asked,” he replied. “Particularly in view of the current troubles, success is more important than title and rank.”
“You know each other?”
“Since the Academy, Ma’am. I graduated first in my class. Stven came in a close second.”
“But you can work for him?”
“I can work for him, and I can work with him. Someone has to be at the controls day and night, and these small ships are minimally staffed. It will be a demanding regimen for the two of us if we’re the pilots.”
“Do we need more pilots?” she asked Stven.
“We don’t have room for more pilots, Krys. Tarn is our third pilot. He’ll share equally with piloting when the guns are not needed.”
“Hmm. When the Rebels learn of our activities, they’ll seek us out. It may become quite dangerous,” she said to M’Sada.
“I do not seek danger, Ma’am, but if the needs of Empire require my services, I answer the call.”
“Have you been in battle?”
“I have, against smugglers. The consequences to them of capture are dire. They do not give up easily.”
“And what are your career goals?”
“Admiral,” he said without hesitation. “Until then, whatever Admiral Chandrajuski needs of me.”
Stven added, “You know the esteem in which we Rress are held as teachers, Krys. The Schect are regarded equally highly throughout the fleet as tacticians. A skipper is always happy to accept their services. M’Sada beat me handily in that area at the Academy, and I would value his assistance.”
“I’m after loyalty and discretion as much as skill,” she said.
“And I vouch for him on both. I would not have invited him otherwise.”
“You seek the rank of Admiral,” she said to M’Sada. “Are you prepared to give up your commission to join this venture?”
“Ma’am?”
“It’s a simple question, Lieutenant.”
“But not a simple request. If Admiral Chandrajuski makes the demand, it will be for good cause, and I will comply.”
“Very well. I hope it’s not required. If it is, I will do my best to have you reinstated when the troubles are over. Stven, please advise Admiral Chandrajuski of your choice.”
“At once, Ma’am.”
“Uh, before you do, are you both rated to fly other kinds of ships?”
Stven and M’Sada looked at each other in surprise. “We are,” Stven answered. “What other ship did you have in mind?”
“I’ll let you know later.”
Tarn, Stven, and M’Sada showed up together late that night with two gunners in tow. Both were Dramda, humanoid but with an extra set of arms and hands. Petty Officers Gordi’i and Kali’i were also man and wife. They had no higher aspirations than to be the best gunners they could, but at that they were, in M’Sada’s judgment, the best. They had worked under him on a previous assignment, they interviewed well, and their names were forwarded to Admiral Chandrajuski.
Chandrajuski interviewed each of the candidates personally. He then called all of them together for a meeting at a conference room on the civilian side of the spaceport. It would be his last official meeting with them, and they were required to show up in civilian attire.
“You have each agreed to join this special crew without knowing the mission before you,” he began. “I’ll leave it to Krys to give you specifics, but you need to understand that the mission could easily last several
years. It will be of immense import to restoring the throne. The Rebels will learn of your activities sooner or later, and when they do they will go after you. Yours is a dangerous, possibly very dangerous mission. If anyone wants to change their mind, now is the time.”
Stven spoke. “I’m not opting out, sir. I just have a question. You mentioned restoring the throne. I thought all the Chosen were dead.”
“Does anyone wish to opt out?” Chandrajuski asked, his wise old eyes staring hard into the eyes of each of them.
No one spoke. He batted his fists together and opened his mouth wide to display his many teeth. “I only wish I could go with you,” he said softly. “You are a small group, but your impact could be enormous. Know this: ending the line of Chosen is fundamental to the entire Rebel strategy. That line is not yet ended. One lives. Few know. You’re going to change that.” He looked around the table. ”Any more questions or comments? This is your last chance to decline.”
No one spoke.
“Very well. Your orders are to safeguard Krys as she spreads the word that we are working to restore the throne. Krys will explain in detail how this will be accomplished once you’re underway. A civilian ship is being modified for your use. Krys is the owner, and she has final say in where you go and what you do when you get there. Commander Stven is captain, and he has final say when underway. The rest of the chain of command is as follows: Lieutenant Commander M’Sada, Lieutenant Lukes, Senior Chief Gortlan, Senior Chief Gordi’i, and Senior Chief Kali’i. These are new, permanent ranks for all of you, something Sector Commanders occasionally get to award.”
“So we don’t have to resign our commissions?” M’Sada asked.
“No. But you will conduct yourselves as civilians unless circumstances require the uniform. These requirements are not unusual in clandestine operations. The record will show that you hold assignments elsewhere within my fleet.”
“Sir, are we spies?” Gordi’i asked.
“Definitely not. You at all times represent the legitimate military arm of the Empire. However, you might find it beneficial to keep a low profile. Do I make myself clear?”
Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One) Page 25