Knights of the Chosen soe-2

by Lawrence P White

  “I think yours is much more interesting.”

  “My story is the Queen’s story. It will be told in private.”

  “Otis, if your crew was so small that she had to be in the net, I think you know what life is like aboard a small ship. There are no secrets between us. There can’t be.”

  Otis sat almost at attention as he considered. “You’re right, Krys. You know, of course, what happened to the treaty mission.”

  “We only saw the wreckage. Tarn, Stven, and I were there. We had hoped to rescue you, but I knew we were too late long before we arrived.”

  Otis nodded. “We escaped, but someone had altered the navigation program. We ended up far from where we intended. We fled to the nearest world, a world classified as an emerging world. The Chessori tracked us, and a running battle that had begun at the treaty site continued.”

  “Tracked!” Stven exclaimed. “I knew it.”

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “We’ve suspected it. And they have some way of calling ships through hyperspace.”

  “We believe they have an interstellar communicator. The Empire does not have the capability, and it places us at a tremendous disadvantage.”

  “So that’s how they keep finding us,” M’Sada said. “We hadn’t followed the line of logic all the way.”

  “No one else has, either, not with these Chessori. We’re learning as we go,” Otis replied. He looked at Krys. “Remember your first vision, all those years ago?”

  “I remember it well. I spent years trying to figure it out.”

  “It was fulfilled on the emerging world. I won’t mention the name of that world. You’ll have to be Tested before that happens.”

  “Tested!” Stven exclaimed again. A puff escaped from one nostril, despite the presence of a Knight of the Realm.

  Otis’ head swung slowly in his direction. “Your next stop will be the Queen. Surely you know that. Do you fear a Testing?”

  “No, Sire. I just… well, I never expected to meet a Knight of the Realm, let alone the Queen.” He looked to Krys for support.

  Otis turned back to Krys. “She needs you by her side as quickly as you can get there. She’s alone.”

  “Alone!”

  “In her mind, she’s alone. All her Knights are away on various tasks, and I don’t doubt that Chandrajuski is, as well. She needs a friend, Krys.”

  Another puff escaped, and M’Sada was forced to leave, his upper hands working overtime on his antennae as he raced for the exit. Otis looked at Stven with a peculiar look. “Isn’t that considered bad form among the Rress?”

  Stven’s head lowered on his long neck. “Sorry, Sire. There’s a reason I’m here instead of there, something about a weak diaphragm. I’m quite the reject.”

  “Then I wish there were more rejects. Stand tall, sailor.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Stven said, his neck lifting slightly, still mortified.

  “You said the vision was fulfilled,” Krys said. “Most of it I understand now, but who is the man of dirt?”

  “I can’t say without revealing more than I can before you’re Tested. Let me just say that you could not have been more precise in your original description of him. All your descriptions fit.”

  Krys’ eyes rose to the ceiling as she remembered the words of Daughter’s vision.

  “You will be so much more, and have so much less. They will best you, but a man of dirt will come to your aid.”

  Alone among all her visions, she had been uncertain of one word. The word dirt seemed to carry more than one meaning. The actual word that had come to her was earth, or Earth, but the sense of dirt came through strongly. Her eyes grew large as she considered Otis’ words, but she remained mute as he continued.

  “The only survivors of a ground battle on that emerging world were the Queen, her daughter, the nanny, a Rider whose host was dying, myself, and the ‘man of dirt,’ as you call him. Without his help, none of us would have survived. The Queen was forced to do a terrible thing. She stunned this man from an emerging world and permitted a newly fissioned Rider to enter his body.”

  Krys sucked in a breath.

  “Yes, somewhat akin to what happened to Val, isn’t it? But for the man of dirt who knew nothing of our ways, it was a difficult awakening. It took many months for him to accept the Rider. I might add that the Rider played a major part in another vision, Krys: your vision with Chandrajuski.”

  Krys remembered the words:

  “Easy to leave, hard to remain. The man of dirt comes to one in shadow. She will die, but death is not forever.”

  “She died at the hands of a gleason, but the man of dirt sent his Rider to her. It kept her alive and healed her. I believe she has since returned the Rider to him.”

  Stven worked hard to hold back a puff. M’Sada had just returned to the lounge. “Yes?” Otis asked Stven.

  Stven was afraid to breath, but M’Sada, too, was intrigued. He asked the question for Stven. “A gleason?”

  “You know of them?”

  “Only that they’re the stuff of nightmares.”

  “They are. One killed me that night, as well.” Krys turned startled eyes to him, and he grinned his feral grin. “Seems we had just enough Riders to go around.”

  He turned back to M’Sada. “Recruiting gleasons could not have been easy. It shows how hard the Rebels are searching for the Queen. Know this: she represents failure for them. If the Last of the Chosen survives, the Rebels will be unable to hold the coup together.”

  Otis turned glaring eyes to each of them. “Do each of you understand that?” Heads nodded, and he growled low in his throat.

  “It might explain why they’ve been looking so hard for us, and why they were so successful,” Stven said. “They probably hoped they could reach her through us. But, Sire, if the gleason killed you and the Queen, who killed it?”

  “The man of dirt.”

  “He kills gleasons? And Chessori? And he flew halfway across the galaxy manually? Who is he?”

  “He’s just a man, but he made the ultimate sacrifice for his Queen, twice. There’s a lot more to him, but his story is for another day. He is your First Knight, a title that has been earned many times over.”

  Krys’ eyes sparkled. “I once told Daughter that she would find her knight in shining armor. I didn’t understand how she would do it since she was soon to be part of an arranged marriage, but her husband is dead now. Has she found her knight in shining armor?”

  “You’ll have to ask her yourself, Krys.”

  She smiled. His words were answer enough, and she was happy for the person who had come closest to being the mother she never knew.

  Otis’ story was long, and parts were left out, but when he was done, a fire had been lit under the crew. What they’d gone through seemed paltry in comparison, but when Krys finished their story, Otis assured them it was not. “You’ve served your queen honorably and well,” he said.

  He pulled Krys aside. “Is there anything you have not told me?”

  “No, Sire. We have withheld nothing of which I am aware.”

  “You must go to the Queen, without delay.”

  “I will, Otis, but you should know this: I’m needed out here as much as I am there. In part, because I’m helping to spread the word to high ranking officers, but that’s not the main reason. Admiral Buskin has many more resources for reaching these officers, and he’s reached far more than I have. I need to be out here because my visions are helpful to the Queen. To have those visions, it seems I must be in contact with the person who is the focus of the vision, at least most of the time. Some of the people out here are going to play big parts in whatever is coming. If I can offer them guidance, it serves her.”

  “She needs guidance, as well, Krys.”

  “I don’t have to stay out here all the time.”

  “And she might be able to provide you with some tools to help you in your job. It will be up to her. She’s a very smart lady, don’t ever forget. She’s out of
her element some of the time, she’s learning how to be Queen just as we’re all learning the craft of state. She’s stumbling occasionally, but she has a plan, and you’re part of it. I’m glad we finally found you.”

  “And now I have to go.”

  “Yes, to her. I’m not going to tell you where she is, Krys. It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because you can’t tell what you don’t know.”

  “Stven and M’Sada will have to know.”

  “They’re Imperial Officers. They’ll handle the information appropriately.”

  “What, kill themselves if we’re captured?”

  “They’re fine officers, Krys. I would expect no less in these difficult times, and I’m certain they’ll deliver no less.” He opened his mouth in a leer, showing his vicious teeth. “It’s a good reason to win, to keep fighting under any circumstances, eh?”

  In the end, Stven and M’Sada did not learn the location of the Queen. Buskin did, and Rappor remained at her berth in his hangar bay.

  *****

  The voyage to Shipyard took ten weeks. During that time, Buskin continued working with his staff to develop fighting tactics. Serious fighting would take place eventually, and tactics for fighting squadron against squadron had never been considered during training at the Academy. Worse, it looked like fleets might end up fighting fleets, an extremely complex endeavor. He’d already spent considerable time working on the issue from his hiding place out among the stars, but there were a lot of unknowns, and he was not at all confident of success.

  Stven and M’Sada had both attended the Academy, but their training had focused on small unit operations. Chandrajuski had promoted them early, and the requisite advanced training schools had not been provided. Buskin invited them to join with his staff for a glimpse of the bigger picture.

  Buskin configured his Operations Center on the cruiser into its simulator mode, and his staff practiced war games. Stven caught on quickly and held his own with the more senior commanders under Buskin, and M’Sada took naturally to the task. He tended to act slower, with more deliberation, but his engagements were often more successful. Some of his suggestions found their way into what was becoming a primer for large battles.

  But fighting the Chessori would be up to the Great Cats. Buskin, from his earlier observations of the cats as they trained aboard Brigand, knew that although they were great fighters, they were not well-suited to commanding fleets. Their skills, honed during centuries of survival, focused on individual and small group tactics. Never had the Great Cats been asked to function as squadron or fleet commanders, and they were not good at it. The cats needed to be commanded, if only to be ordered to retreat when appropriate. They didn’t like retreating, and none of them liked calling for help. They wanted a target, and they wanted to stay on that target until it, or they, were destroyed. The trainers aboard Brigand had resorted to keeping an Empire admiral far removed from the battle in an effort to avoid the Chessori mind weapon, and it worked, but it was not nearly as efficient as Buskin wanted.

  Stven took to spending long hours with Borg, Kross, and Trist in front of screens, setting up problems and talking them through solutions. By starting with the most elementary tactics, then patiently moving on to more advanced problems, almost like using a textbook instead of the pressure of real time battles on the net, the Great Cats improved their grasp of the larger picture and made real headway.

  Buskin was pleased, and he decided to order similar training when he returned to his fleet. In hindsight, he’d been asking too much of the cats who had never had the benefit of Academy training. He would start over at the beginning, just like at the Academy, and advance only when the cats were ready.

  *****

  Krys was apprehensive at meeting the Queen. She hadn’t seen her for over twelve years now, and she’d been traipsing all over the Empire doing things in the Queen’s name, all without her permission. She felt small again, as if she was the 16 year old waif of a girl Daughter had pulled from an orphanage so long ago.

  Tarn sensed her discomfort, but he, too, was concerned about what would happen following their meeting with the Queen. That they would be Tested was not a concern. What would become of Krys’ crew was.

  “You know she won’t be upset with you. How could she?” he asked as they did their stretching exercises prior to meditation.

  “You don’t know her. I do, but I don’t know how she’s going to take this. Tarn, I’m a Seer, her Seer, but I’m not a politician or an admiral. What we’ve been doing is both of those. She might be offended.”

  “Because you brought her a thousand ships? I don’t think so.”

  “It’s only three hundred so far, and ships are not her only concern. The image the Empire carries of its Queen is important, and I’ve usurped some privileges in that area.”

  “You’ve only done what you felt was necessary.”

  “I have spoken for her, Tarn. Many times. I’ve called all these people to her side, and I’ve done so in her name. It’s always been in her name. My name means nothing.”

  He leaned forward, his head touching the deck between his spread legs. Two years ago he’d never have been able to stretch like that.

  “If you’ve spoken in her name, it was right. I’ve never sensed wrongness in anything we’ve done.” He looked up at her, his chin on the deck as he held the stretch, his eyes meeting hers as she leaned across one outstretched leg. “She’s going to keep you by her side. I’ll be reassigned to another crew somewhere.”

  Krys paused, then relaxed her stretch, her mouth settling into a thin line. “You won’t. You’re the Guide. I won’t let her.”

  Their eyes locked. She would defy the Queen? For him? Not a chance. “You won’t have any say in it,” he said, straightening up.

  She, too, straightened up, very focused. “I will have a say in it, Tarn. I’m not letting you get away that easily.”

  “Get away?”

  She blinked, then sighed. “How long have we been doing these exercises together?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “And in all that time, despite the fact that I’m wearing a skin-tight outfit that leaves little to the imagination, you’ve been a perfect gentleman. Why?”

  He squirmed, not wanting to answer. When he did, the answer was pathetic. “I’m an Imperial Officer and your aide, Krys. Chandrajuski ordered me to be a gentleman at all times.”

  “Pshaw. Are you human?”

  “Too human. It hasn’t been easy, but one thing has helped, a lot. You’re special, probably more special than you admit to yourself. I’m slightly in awe of you.” His eyes lowered. “Maybe more than slightly.”

  “You’re strong, Tarn, much stronger than me. I’ve been having trouble concentrating when we’re together.”

  He closed his eyes. “Me, too.”

  “Maybe you should stop being the perfect gentleman. I don’t think your orders were intended to keep two people in love apart.”

  His head jerked up, and he locked gazes with her. “You know?” he breathed.

  She leaned toward him and reached a hand out to caress his face. “Don’t you?”

  He closed his eyes, and a hand rose involuntarily to press her hand closer. “I do know, but in this I sense wrongness. You’re the Queen’s Seer, Krys. I’m just a lieutenant.”

  “You’re The Guide, Tarn, one of six people named by the Leaf People. I don’t think rank is the issue here. Look at me,” she demanded. She already had his undivided attention, she could almost feel waves of energy pouring from him, but she needed to look into his eyes. “I’m the Queen’s Seer, but I’m a person, too, and I have need of your love. I love you.”

  His eyes closed as he savored the words, words he had wanted to hear for a long, long time. He opened his eyes to meet hers. “I love you, Krys. I’m not sure that changes anything, but I love you.”

  Exercise forgotten, he took her hand and pulled her to himself. They lay on the deck, side by side, his hand caressing h
er face. He leaned down and kissed each of her eyes, saying, “I have so wanted to hold you like this. I love you, My Lady.”

  He kissed her lips, and the kiss was returned.

  M ike

  Chapter Eleven

  Training for the Delta Force volunteers headed for Brodor began as soon as they left Earth. Mike lectured on the political situation, the nature of the enemy, descriptions of various ships, weapons, and their capabilities, and he gave everyone an introduction to Jessie who, for most, was their first view of one of the Great Cats they would work beside. The roles these soldiers would play during the coming troubles was fully explained, including the fact that they, themselves, would have to work out methods for teaming up with the cats. He packed as much language training into each day as they could withstand, and with surprisingly good results. These men really were exceptional, and they refused to rely on the translation devices.

  Josh insisted that nothing of substance be withheld from his men. He also insisted that, in keeping with the traditions of special operations soldiers everywhere, even senior officers participated in the training, and that included Mike. Daily PT, hand-to-hand fighting, the use of knives and other killing tools, and team tactics were spread throughout the weeks enroute to Brodor. Though these men were intimately familiar with these tools of their trade, they constantly practiced and reviewed.

  When Mike wasn’t teaching, they taught him, and they just about killed him. Rank held no privileges with these men. They were all on a first name basis with their superiors, and all were senior enlisted men or officers anyway.

  In the beginning they genuinely embarrassed Mike whenever possible, a part of their life that he thought he would never get used to. He had experienced the same feelings during his training in the army, and he didn’t enjoy the harassment any more now than he had then, but he understood its purpose. They were testing his mettle, and he responded by pushing himself hard, harder than he had ever pushed himself in his life.