Voice of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book Three)

by Lawrence White

  “If you have to go, I’d like to stay in touch,” she said, her gaze straying to the side.

  His eyes seemed to sink back into his head as he stepped back from her. “I can’t make any promises. We’re in the middle of a war, and you know what we do. How can we possibly stay in touch? Besides, we can never be more than friends. We’re alien to each other.”

  Her mouth dropped and her eyes rose to the ceiling. She turned to him slowly, thoughtfully. “Is that what’s been holding you back?”

  He reached a hand out to caress her face. “I’ve enjoyed traveling with you, and I’m sorry it’s coming to an end.”

  She placed her hand over his, then to his amazement she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “So am I. I’ll do my best to keep tabs on you, and I’ll find you if we’re on the same planet. If you’re interested.” She took his hand and led him to the door. “Come back when it’s time for dinner. We need to talk about this alien business. It’s not exactly what you think it is.”

  His eyebrows rose in an unspoken question, and a knowing look came into her eyes. “Our species,” she said, waving a finger back and forth between the two of them, “just happens to be the most prevalent species in the Empire.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  She pushed him gently out of the room. “I have work to do. We’ll talk at dinner, and maybe afterwards. I’m just a mechanic, but I’m pretty good at mechanics.”

  Chapter 4

  Buskin’s vision of a thousand ships had come to pass, though it had really been closer to 2,000 Chessori ships. The battle for Earth was over, but it carried a high price: public knowledge that a galactic Empire existed. Governments, news media, religious organizations, and civilians across the globe clamored for explanations.

  The President called and was put through to Trexler’s conference room. The meeting with Krys and her crew had not yet adjourned, and everyone was still there. Six other world leaders surrounded the President when his image materialized in the center of the conference room.

  The President’s gaze went around the room, pausing when he reached Stven and M’Sada, but he gathered his wits about him and continued on. When he completed the circle and again faced Trexler, he said, “The secret is out. Too many have seen too much. We’ve considered all kinds of responses, Ray. None of them work very well. We have riots, and we have people jumping out of buildings. The best thing we can do is to come clean, tell the world what’s going on, and it can’t be an abstract message. They need something concrete to focus on, and we think it’s you. We want you to come in a spaceship, let them see the new reality. It’s going to be brutal no matter what we do, but if we can give the press some great pictures, we might be able to jump the focus from fear of aliens to something spectacular, something wonderful, something positive. You’ve done a great job out there, and it’s you they need to see.”

  “I’m no politician, Mr. President.”

  “I’m not asking you to be a politician. I want you to be what you are, our commander. We need you to pull us together, Ray. We need the world to focus on its enemy, not itself.”

  “I have a war to fight, Mr. President.”

  “You’ll have to let others do the fighting for a while. If you hope to continue what you’ve started here, you have to get the planet behind you. We want you to come in a spaceship, and you’ll have to visit as much of the planet as you can with that ship.”

  Trexler stayed silent. The President blinked a few times, then said, “No one ever said it would be easy, but it has to be done, Ray, and it has to be you.”

  Trexler considered. “If I do this, I will speak as a man of Earth, not an admiral in the United States Navy.”

  “Agreed. This has to be seen as a global thing. We’re thinking Geneva. It has a history of neutrality.”

  “You’re talking about the airport? They’ll have to close it.”

  “This is big, Ray. They’ve agreed to close it for whatever amount of time you need. Trucks are already rolling with grandstands, sound equipment, big screens, and all that stuff. We’ll back you all the way on this, but it has to be you.”

  Trexler took a deep breath and sighed. “Very well, Mr. President. I’ll need a few days. We still have a lot of enemy out here.”

  “I’ll give you three days, but that’s all. Just let us know what you need. You have a blank check, Admiral.”

  The connection was cut, and Trexler’s gaze moved around the people at the table. “I guess I have to organize a show. You don’t have to stay for this, but I’ll take all the help I can get.”

  He turned to Godfries and Buskin. “We need to get our fast squadrons back to Chandrajuski, all but one or two of them.”

  “And I’m going to pull our guys back from the Chessori, give them a chance to stand down,” Godfries said. “We’ll let the Chessori stay together, and we’ll keep an umbrella around them.”

  “Okay. I need a ship, probably a fighter. I’d rather have something a little bigger for effect, but frigates and cruisers are too big. I don’t want to scare people.”

  “They’re already scared, Ray. Trust me,” Godfries said. “I’ve been dealing with this issue for months while you’ve been out gallivanting around the galaxy. You’re thinking too small again. You need to show them who we really are, who they’re jumping on board with. This is the big opportunity I’ve been waiting for. It’s our chance, maybe our only chance, of focusing everyone on the war instead of on themselves. If you pull this off, national interests might finally take a back seat to survival.”

  “You’ve clearly given it more thought than I have. You do it.”

  “Not a chance. I’ll take up the baton later, but like it or not, you’re the chosen one. Suck it up and get the job done, sir.”

  “Showing up with a squadron will scare everyone off.”

  “So start with a fighter, but you need to give the people hope. A squadron, particularly one flown by our guys, will impress the heck out of them.”

  “Sir,” Washburn spoke up, “you can’t do this without protection. This is a perfect opportunity for terrorists, and whole governments are going to oppose you. In fact, they’re the ones that are going to require most of your attention. You’ll be visiting some real hot spots.”

  “Actually, it’s worse than that,” Trexler said thoughtfully. “Consider the Middle East. Oil is king there, and they’re going to see an end in sight for that oil. Empire technology is going to put them out of business eventually, and it’s going to put a lot of other big companies out of business, as well.”

  “No, it’s not,” Godfries stated. “I’ve had this conversation with a number of world leaders. They’re ready to convert to new things, but they need time. It’s your job to let them know it’s not going to be immediately and we’re not going to ditch them. Whatever new technologies arise, we’re going to spread them around to the rich and poor alike.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless they decide to opt out of supporting the war.”

  “That’s the plan?”

  “Nothing is set in stone. I have a lot of Great Cats here. We’ll get you whatever protection you need.”

  Washburn looked at Krys thoughtfully. “My Lady?”

  She turned her head toward him. “I know, Terry, but I have to get back to Tarn. My job is done here.”

  “Is it? Tarn won’t be leaving that hospital for quite a while. What happens here in the next few weeks is critical to my people, and it’s critical to the Queen’s war effort. Resolve has nearly a full complement of Protectors, and she’s a beautiful ship. She’ll make a great first impression.”

  Krys was clearly not happy with the suggestion. She turned toward Trexler. “What does the Queen need from me?”

  “Actually, I think that more than anything she needs you back by her side.”

  “Not without Tarn. He is an integral part of what I do. As soon as he is well enough to travel, we must be away. You can have Resolve for two months, no more.”

  * * *
* *

  Crowds lined the miles of fence surrounding the perimeter of the airport. Others jammed streets and roof tops. So many boats filled the lake that the famous fountain had to be turned off. Geneva, Switzerland was accustomed to hosting world class gatherings, but nothing like this had ever been contemplated.

  Runways were closed. A grandstand had been erected between the two main terminals on a taxiway. Fences had been relocated to allow the public onto portions of the airport itself, and portions of the terminal roof had been prepared for spectators. A severely restricted number of Swiss dignitaries had been organized as a welcoming committee, but no other world leaders attended. The only licensed participants were from the press, and with the exception of a very few, most of them were relegated to positions off to the side. Directly in front of the podium and lining most of the fence, guests positioned themselves on a first come, first served basis.

  This event was not intended for world leaders. They already knew about the Empire. Its purpose was to introduce the Empire to a frightened world.

  * * * * *

  Resolve appeared first as a tiny black dot high in the sky. Spectators peered through binoculars and with squinted eyes. Gasps sounded as the ship formed into a disc. The ship descended slowly, much more slowly than normal, allowing people and cameras to focus.

  O’Brien brought the ship in, his approach nearly vertical, letting the saucer shape of the ship slowly swell as it closed on the spectators. Battle scars had been removed from Resolve, and the burnished hull gleamed as it came to a stop perfectly positioned. The leading edge of the ship reached almost to the crowd, an immense throng waiting outside a roped-off area between the terminal building and the runway. The ramp lowered, perfectly positioned at the end of a long, red carpet.

  Trexler turned to Major Washburn. “I have to go first.”

  “Yes, sir, but only today. After today, your Protectors go first.”

  He nodded. “Wait here until I call for you. I don’t want to frighten everyone when you come out.”

  He had given careful consideration to his appearance and decided that a dress uniform was not appropriate. He was dressed in his every day khaki uniform and hat with the collar open. Four gold stars gleamed from each side of his collar. The only other decoration was the naval aviator wings of which he was so proud. His injured foot was not completely healed yet, but he had insisted that the doctor remove the cast from his foot no matter how much discomfort he had to endure. Earth’s commanding officer would not make his first appearance in a cast.

  As flag officer of a fleet, he had been trained to handle diplomatic events, but the roller coaster he was about to step into was beyond his worst imagining. He would be on every television in the world. His image would appear in Times Square and in other major cities of the world. Entire governments had convened for this event. He swallowed, then lifted his head and limped down the ramp. He stepped to the red carpet amidst a great, expectant silence and was met by a delegation headed by the President of the Swiss Confederation. He spoke to them briefly, shook a few hands, then invited them to follow him to a bank of microphones. They were not happy to be brushed off so quickly, but Trexler’s words today were not for them, they were for the people of the planet. He climbed the steps of a platform and limped up to the microphones, his eyes scanning the great crowd.

  Without preamble, he said, “I’m Admiral Raymond Trexler, commander of Earth’s space forces. It’s nice to be home.” A weak cheer sounded, indicating just how scared most of these people were.

  He leaned into the microphones. “I’m here to tell you that the rumors are correct. There’s been a great battle out in space. We won.”

  A few fists rose into the air, but the crowd remained mostly silent, apprehensive.

  “Today is not about that battle, and it’s not about me,” he said as his eyes wandered through the crowd. “It’s about you.” He focused on several sets of eyes and saw the questions in them. “It’s about your futures, and the future of Earth. I’ve seen the same news reports you have seen, and I know your questions.” He peered hard into the crowd. “I know your fears, as well.” He paused, then looked into the cameras. “You deserve answers, and I am here to give you those answers. You have my promise that I will speak true, that I will withhold no secrets that I can possibly avoid withholding.

  “You see before you an officer of the United States Navy. I ask you to see beyond the uniform, for I do not represent the interests of the United States, I represent the interests of our whole planet. I stand before you as Admiral Raymond Trexler, commanding officer of a multinational force of soldiers, sailors, and airmen who have joined with a great, star-faring Empire to save their civilization . . . and our own. Thousands of our men and women, secretly recruited from nations all over the Earth, are already out there among the stars. We are at war, and the stakes are the very highest.”

  He stared into the crowd, then looked directly into several of the many cameras among the news corps. “I wish I could set your fears to rest, but I cannot. I told you I would speak the truth. The truth is that many of my men have fallen in the past few months, and all life on our planet nearly ended a week ago.”

  The crowd went deathly silent as he stared into cameras. This was not what the world expected to hear, nor was it what they wanted to hear. Among the crowd, mothers clutched children to their breasts, and he saw husbands’ arms going around their wives.

  “Do I speak of our doom?” he asked them. “Are we hopelessly set upon by hideous creatures so vastly superior to ourselves that we have no hope of overcoming them?” He shook his head. “I do not. We are, in fact, winning this war.” He saw a few men stand taller, their eyes peering hard at him. “We will save our civilization, you and I, and I promise you we will succeed, but we are far from done.”

  He gave them time to think about hope. His purpose here today was not just for them to leave with hope, but with determination. “There is a vast galactic organization out there,” he said, raising his arm to the sky and looking up. “They call themselves the Empire, and this is one of their ships. The people of Empire consist of aliens of every description. Some look and are just like us, some are very different. I’ve had to put prejudice aside, just as each of you will, but I like them. I like them very much. I’m certain you will grow to like them in time. And I don’t want to paint a picture of a perfect society. They have their pirates and smugglers, they have disputes that sometimes erupt into fights, and their military forces stay busy. In a lot of ways, they’re just like us.”

  He leaned into the microphones. “They’re in trouble. They’ve been invaded by another empire, by beings called Chessori. The Chessori look a lot like pictures you might have seen of the Roswell aliens. The Chessori are not great in number, their bodies and their weapons are weak, but they don’t need large numbers or strong weapons. They project a weapon of the mind that incapacitates all known species within the Empire.” He leaned even closer to the cameras. “The Empire has virtually unlimited resources, but it can’t fight back against this mind weapon.”

  He looked from camera to camera, wondering how many of the viewers would make the connection. He gave them a few moments, but he couldn’t wait long. He had to foster hope. “To the Empire, Earth is just one more world, an unimportant world out near the edge of the galaxy. They’ve known about us for many years, but we’ve been classified as an emerging world, not yet ready for admission to the Empire. Emerging worlds are treated with great care by the Empire. The Empire has a complete hands-off policy toward emerging worlds so that we can develop in our own way, so that we can be who we choose to be, so that we can become who and what we choose to become.

  “You’re probably asking yourselves why Earth even matters to the Empire, or to the Chessori for that matter. I’ll tell you why: we are immune to this terrible mind weapon. To us, it is simply not there. Out of the whole galaxy, we are the only ones.”

  He stopped talking. Earth’s immunity to the scree was
the crux of everything that would follow. He didn’t doubt for a moment that connections were being made in minds all over the planet. So, too, would hope. His job now was to form a resolve.

  “Call it what you want . . . a miracle . . . fate . . . luck . . . but we are immune. No one else can fight the Chessori, but we can fight them. We have fought them, and we have won every single engagement. We have learned to use the weapons of Empire, we have learned to fly their ships, and we have learned how to navigate between the stars to stand against this terrible opponent.”

  He raised a hand. “Don’t get the wrong impression. It hasn’t been easy. We’ve lost a lot of very good men and women.”

  He paused, and his lips thinned. “At the moment, Empire ships and weapons are superior, but I am certain the Chessori are working on improvements to counter our superiority.”

  He stepped back and looked above the heads of the crowd for a minute, debating in his mind if he should tell them of the awfulness. He had prepared his presentation with care, but he still wasn’t certain if this would scare off his future recruits. Then, as it had during his preparation, truth won out. He had told them he would be as truthful as he could be, and he would.

  He focused back on the cameras. “Here’s the system we’ve worked out: we have a very limited number of crewmembers from Earth, and we don’t have a clue how the ships work. We can fly them anywhere we want to go in the galaxy, and we can fire the guns, but that’s about it. We don’t know how to fix them, we don’t know how the engines work, we don’t know how they get their air or food. In a ship that has 1,000 Empire crewmembers, there might be 15 of us from Earth. Our only purpose is to fly and shoot.

  “And it’s not a free ride for the Empire crews. The mind weapon of the Chessori, I’m told, is truly terrible for them. It’s like they’re being burned alive. Some of our battles have been short, but some of them have lasted days. During that time, the Empire crewmembers suffer horribly. Think about it,” he said softly. “They finish one battle and willingly go to the next, knowing what they are going to have to go through all over again. To make matters worse, they’re all experts at flying and fighting their ships, but they have to turn the ships over to us at the most critical time, trusting their lives to people from an emerging world.