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

by Lawrence P White

  Getting in to see Admiral Korban was not an easy process. Krys did not want to resort to using the locket that identified her as a Friend, so Tarn presented the computer chip with the message from Chandrajuski, though he did not allow anyone to read it. They eventually reached Korban’s outer office where they were stopped by a commander. He agreed to deliver the chip to Korban, but he would not let them pass.

  Kross, the Great Cat, spoke. “Commander, we are here on Imperial business. I demand access to the admiral.”

  So respected were the Great Cats that they were shown into Korban’s office without delay.

  Korban rose from behind his desk, displeasure showing on his face. That displeasure increased when Kross closed the door, but when Krys held the locket out for his inspection, his features softened.

  “A Friend of the Royal Family,” he said, a hand rubbing his chin as he contemplated. “I’m not sure these things have meaning any more, but I will honor anyone who presents one. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m here to convince you that the meaning of the lockets is not changed,” Krys responded. She held out the chip from Chandrajuski. “A mutual friend asks that you read this.”

  Admiral Korban scanned the message, then sat down to read it carefully. When he was done, his gaze rose to meet hers. “You carry a message. What is the message?”

  “May I ask first, sir, if you’re aboard with Struthers? Does he count you as one of his own?”

  “Considering the contents of this message and its source, your question surprises me. I hope you know the answer.”

  “I must hear it from you,” Krys demanded.

  Korban’s lips thinned. “Very well. I have not joined with the new regime, nor will I. Chandrajuski may count me as an ally.”

  “And may the Empire?”

  “The Empire is dead, young lady.”

  “It is not, sir. That is the gist of my message.”

  “All the Chosen are dead.”

  “Not true, sir. One lives.”

  Korban’s gaze left hers and drifted, his thoughts deep. Krys waited patiently until she saw his eyes focus on her again.

  She knew the question he would ask. “It’s Daughter, sir.”

  “This is critical, young lady. The whole Empire believes that all the Chosen are dead, including me.”

  “Consider your source, Admiral,” Kross demanded from across the office. “None other than Struthers, I suspect. Have you ever known one of my species to speak wrongly of the Royal Family?”

  “You’d lie through your teeth if that’s what it took to protect them, but it would serve no purpose if they no longer existed. Where is she? The last I heard, she was away on a treaty mission to the Chessori.”

  “The mission was a failure, Admiral,” Krys stated. “I believe it was a trap set for her by Struthers, but she escaped, and she lives.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I cannot say.”

  He swept to his feet, leaning across his desk toward her, fire in his eyes. “Cannot, or will not?”

  “Cannot. I can tell you that she is not yet out of danger. She won’t be as long as Struthers is in control, but she lives. Through her, the Realm lives, as well.”

  “Give me proof.”

  “I cannot. Will not Admiral Chandrajuski’s letter suffice?”

  He stepped from behind the desk. “I’ll have to confirm its contents, but the presence of a Great Cat in combination with the letter compels me to act in accordance with his wishes. Quite frankly, if true, your message empowers me.”

  “Admiral Chandrajuski’s feelings, as well. He’s organizing something to help her restore the throne. Would you care to join his team?”

  “It’s not his team. It’s the Queen’s team.”

  “Queen! You mean Daughter’s team, sir.”

  “No. If she is, indeed, the last of the Chosen, she is Queen.”

  “Just like that? Doesn’t the Imperial Senate need to confirm her or something?”

  “It does not. The Queen is dead. The law requires a Queen. If Daughter is the last of the Chosen, she is Queen. Confirmation by the Imperial Senate is only a courtesy to them and a means for the Empire to engage in pomp and ceremony. It is not a requirement. Now, what is Chandrajuski organizing? What does he need of me?”

  “We left before a plan was finalized. I leave it to you to contact him. In the meantime, his message is that things may get very difficult in the coming months, particularly for you top commanders. He wants you to remain in command for as long as you possibly can to preserve assets the Queen will need. He counsels a holding action if necessary. Do you know what that means?”

  A hand rose back to his jaw as he considered. “I’m already doing that, but without a plan, holding actions usually fail. My own plan is weak. I hope his is stronger. He and I will exchange messages. Until then, I’ll keep my forces in readiness.”

  “If you reach the point where you can no longer hold, you are to retreat with as many assets as you can pull together.”

  “That makes sense. Is a meeting place arranged?”

  “You have a person, not a place. Admiral Buskin is in charge of whatever assets come his way.”

  “Buskin, eh? I know him, and I approve, but I have to know where he is.”

  “That’s the difficult part, sir,” Tarn said. “The more people who know, the more chance there is of word leaking to the Rebels. Chandrajuski does not even know where Buskin will be hiding out. Instead of you contacting him, he’ll contact you from time to time.”

  “It’s risky. What if I have to leave in a hurry?”

  “Then leave. We’ll give you a set of coordinates where, hopefully, a messenger will be waiting, provided Struthers has not discovered him. We are visiting others with this same message, and I’m certain you could name many on our list. As a last resort you can contact one of them and a way will ultimately be found to lead you to Buskin.”

  “The plan is full of holes, but that might actually be to our advantage for the time being.” He considered the three visitors, then said, “I appreciate the risks you take in delivering Chandrajuski’s message. I’ll confer with him as soon as I can. Until I learn otherwise, count me in. Is there anything else?”

  “There is,” Tarn said. “We come as civilians, but we’re a military crew on special assignment. We believe our ship is known to our enemies. We’d like to change our beacon if that’s possible. Admiral Chandrajuski hinted at certain things that might be in place for clandestine missions. Would the ability to change a ship’s beacon in space be one of them?”

  “That would be illegal.”

  “Yes, sir. But is there a means? The message we carry, as you agree, is critical.”

  Korban settled back into his chair. “You ask too much. Can you offer any more proof that you are who you say you are?”

  Krys spoke. “A Friend presented her credentials, Admiral. She travels in the presence of a Great Cat, and she carries a message of hope. We have a Queen, and I ask for your support in her name. Do you expect to get a better offer somewhere else?”

  Korban paled. “You speak in her name?”

  Krys stood her ground, knowing she had overstepped her authority, but knowing, too, that her actions were necessary.

  “In this, I speak in her name, sir.”

  “You lay your life on the line, young lady.”

  “Every day. So, too, does my crew. The beacon?”

  “A method exists, but the process is not easy, and it can only work with a military AI.”

  “We have a military AI.”

  Korban’s eyebrows lifted. “Chandrajuski doesn’t miss much, does he.”

  Tarn spoke up. “He didn’t give us the means to change our beacon, sir. I don’t think he expected us to have the problem, at least not this early in our mission.”

  “What problem?”

  “The Chessori. We believe they’re searching for us, possibly on behalf of the Rebels. They may be in league with each other.”<
br />
  Korban frowned. “They’re just traders.”

  “Not so, sir. I personally observed 15 Chessori ships destroy three Empire heavy squadrons without retaliation. Our guys never got a shot off.”

  “Not possible,” Korban snapped.

  “What do you really know about them, sir?”

  Korban considered. “Actually, very little. They seem timid. From all reports, they’re well-behaved.”

  “All a ruse, sir. For the first time in the history of Empire, we are up against a mind weapon, a mind weapon that disables anyone within its range. The crewmembers in those squadrons were as good as any, but against the mind weapon they were completely helpless.”

  Tarn leaned toward Korban, choosing his words with care. This message needed to be clearly understood. “Sir, the Chessori are as much your enemy as the Rebels. I beg you to heed this warning.”

  Korban stayed in Tarn’s face. “What is the range of this mind weapon? You’ve clearly seen it in action, yet you survived.”

  “It’s range is unknown. We observed its use from afar.”

  “How do we combat it?”

  “We have a plan, sir, but the plan is in its infancy, and I cannot divulge its nature. It will be revealed to you when we know more. Until then, I counsel in the strongest possible terms: avoid the Chessori, and under no circumstances engage them. The weapon is devastating in its effectiveness, and you are powerless against it. So are we. It’s why we need to change our beacon.”

  “Why don’t I assign you to a squadron?”

  Krys stepped to Tarn’s side. “Chandrajuski considered all this before we left Centauri III. Squadrons are just as powerless against the Chessori mind weapon as we are. It was his belief that one civilian ship might have more success.”

  “I’ll need to talk with him. I’m on board with you for the moment, but I’m still not fully convinced. If all is as you say, his plan is a good beginning. His plan for retreat is excellent.”

  “And for that reason, I might have a final message to deliver. But this message, once it’s out of the box, cannot be rescinded. May I have a few minutes to consider, Admiral?”

  “You may. Your message has given me hope, and that’s a precious gift.”

  Krys gave Tarn a hard look, then went to a couch and settled into her meditation position. Korban started to say something, but Tarn held up a hand for silence. He gave her a full ten minutes, an excruciatingly long period of time for Korban and himself. Korban clearly did not understand, and he grew more and more angry as the minutes passed. Finally, Tarn said softly, “Will you take her hand, sir?”

  Korban looked a question to him, but Tarn just stood his ground. Taking care not to disturb what was clearly a state of trance, Korban went to Krys and took her hand, placing it between both of his own.

  Her eyes flew open. It took her a moment to remember where she was, then a smile split her face from side to side, and tears welled in her eyes. She looked to Tarn, first in triumph, then in supreme happiness.

  “What did you see, Krys?”

  She replied to Korban instead. “You will receive a visitor sometime in the future. I cannot say when. He is a Knight of the Realm.”

  Korban stepped away from her in surprise. “Who, exactly, are you?”

  “I am the Queen’s Seer,” she replied.

  Korban’s lips thinned, confusion clear in his expression.

  Krys gave him time to consider, then said, “My existence is an Imperial Secret, Admiral. The list of those who know about me is very small. Do you understand?”

  He blinked, then blinked again. “No, I don’t understand at all. I’ve heard tales, but you’re telling me they’re true?”

  “I cannot speak for tales, but I am true. When you confer with Admiral Chandrajuski, will you give him a message from me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Please tell him that my vision was of a Knight of the Realm presenting his credentials to you. Tell him the Knight’s Pin was open.”

  A roar escaped from Kross, then silence filled the room as each considered her words. The Pins could only be opened by a true Knight, and for the Pin to open, the Chosen who had activated it had to be alive.

  Korban broke the silence. “Whose image . . . ?” he started to ask, then his communicator buzzed. He picked it up, listened, then said, “I’m okay. Everything’s fine in here. Just a little excitement from the kitty.” He placed the communicator down, his eyes on Krys.

  “The image was of Daughter,” she answered.

  “Then she must be alive. She really is Queen.”

  “I speak true, Admiral. Since this is a vision of the future, not only is she alive today, but she will be alive when this Knight arrives. And there’s more. Words came with the vision, as they sometimes do:

  To fight is to fail. Leadership prevails. Sixty-eight thirteen tests resolve. Give all that you are.

  Korban backed away, blinking. “What kind of words are those?”

  “The words of my visions always come in the form of a riddle, sir. It’s our job to decipher the riddle.”

  “Humph. My job is to fight when necessary. You’re telling me I’m going to fail?”

  “You’re also a leader, sir. It appears that your leadership might be more successful than your fighting. Considering that the Chessori are your enemy, it’s probably true.”

  “It is possible for the smarter commander to win even if he holds the weaker hand. What’s this 68-13?” He thought for a while, then said, “If I’m not to fight, I’ll have to acknowledge a weak hand and join up with Buskin.” He held out his hands in defeat. “So there goes Chandrajuski’s plan to hold. I’m disappointed. I do not want to give in to the Rebels.”

  She nodded her head. “I understand, sir, but wait. I don’t think we’re done yet.” She turned to Tarn.

  He was looking down at the floor, his brow furrowed. He lifted his gaze to her. “You said a number. It was sixty-eight thirteen. Do you mean six thousand eight hundred thirteen?”

  “Not exactly. They were two separate numbers. One number was 68, the other 13.”

  Tarn thought for a time, then went to the Admiral’s bookshelf. He pulled a thick tome from a shelf and plopped down on a chair with the manual on his lap. He paged through it, could not find what he wanted, and frowned in disgust. He hefted the book and returned it to its place.

  His eyes searched for another, but Admiral Korban interrupted. “I see where you’re going with this, Lieutenant. It’s in the Standing Operations Orders. I think you’re looking for Section 68, Paragraph 13. I’m familiar with it.”

  Tarn nodded and pulled out his personal pad, unfolded it, and started pushing keys. When he found what he was looking for, he paled. His gaze rose to meet Korban’s.

  “I see why it asks for all that you are, sir.”

  Korban nodded grimly and turned to Krys. “That particular order deals with the self destruction of a ship. Under certain conditions the captain of a small ship might choose to lose his ship before it is, for example, boarded by pirates, or perhaps on course to crash into a populated area.” Korban’s attitude of superiority evaporated. “I’ve never heard of it being done.”

  Tarn focused back on Krys. “Is there anything more you can tell me about what you saw?”

  “Just a Knight holding out a Pin to Admiral Korban.”

  “Can you tell me where they were?”

  She closed her eyes. “I believe they were right here in this office,” she said.

  Tarn turned away, thinking deeply. Krys saw his head nodding side to side, as if a puzzle was coming together in his mind.

  He nodded once more, then turned back to her and Korban, his manner confident. “Sir, if ever there was a call to hold, this is it.”

  Korban directed a piercing look toward him. “It’s clear that I’m not to fight, and I cannot hold forever. You should know that Orion Sector already has a new governor, one assigned by Struthers. The day will come when I either stand against him or ret
reat. If I don’t fight, what alternative do I have besides retreat if I’m to conserve resources for the Queen?”

  “I believe the first two phrases go together, sir. To fight is to fail. Leadership prevails. I believe the word fighting refers to weapons, sir. There are other ways to fight, and in your case I believe your fight will be a holding action. I believe your battle will be a battle of wits, not a battle of weapons.”

  “I’m not certain I agree.”

  “Then don’t agree, but keep in mind that whenever this Knight shows up, you are still in this very office. You will have held at least that long. Once the Knight arrives, he’ll have orders that are beyond reproach, whatever they are. Until then, your focus is to lead.”

  “And Section 68, Paragraph 13?”

  “You say its applicability is to small ships. I would raise the bar, sir.”

  “You mean it applies to large ships? I can foresee no conditions under which the rule would apply.”

  “Nor could the writers of the Operations Order, sir, but they were not in the midst of a coup. It might well apply under some conditions we cannot foresee. My guess is that you will know when the time comes. But sir, you might not have raised the bar high enough.”

  “What? You think it should apply to all of my ships?”

  Tarn spoke softly. “It might apply to your whole sector.”

  Korban aged before their very eyes. “I’m to make such a decision?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but it looks that way. In my opinion this is a call to hold, and I believe it foretells a terrible ordeal for you personally.”

  “If it comes true.”

  Tarn sat down and leaned toward Korban. “Sir, the Knight will verify everything. I’m certain. Until then, you will carry the seed of uncertainty, and that seed could grow into something more, something bad. I wish I could lighten the burden, but this vision, in my opinion, offers little in terms of a way out for you.”

  Korban leaned back, a grim set to his lips, but he remained silent for the moment, and Tarn continued.

  “It’s reasonable for you to question, sir. In fact, it’s your duty to question, and that includes what has gone on here today. It might help if I enlighten you further concerning the Queen’s Seer. I’ve been with her for a year now. She’s had a number of visions, and I am alive today because of one of them.”