He decided to put a little pressure on the Chessori. Discarding his plan to act as a civilian, he put on his best uniform. A crewman escorted him to a seat directly opposite the group of six Chessori. To his left sat a man and woman returning to Cordolla, the ship’s first stop, after a year-long vacation. They were wealthy farmers recently retired. To his right sat a self-important businessman and his wife heading to a meeting on Orion III.
In Val’s experience, every species had one or two strong suits, almost always something physical that set them apart from other species, something that had helped them climb the evolutionary ladder high enough to let intelligence do the rest. It might be strength or speed, claws, beaks, or hands, size, or any combination of such things, but it was usually obvious.
The Chessori had no visible strengths at all. Short of stature and hairless, their bodies were completely white. Slim, weak necks supported disproportionately large heads. To all outward appearances, they were frail. And they were frail. The Chessori that Mike had tackled beneath the ship on Earth had died beneath him, its bones crushed.
Their only remarkable feature, other than the complete lack of significant strengths, was their eyes. Dark and shaped like ellipses, the eyes of the Chessori dominated their features. And they never blinked, didn’t even have visible eye lids.
The six Chessori sitting opposite him looked like mannequins sitting eerily still, their eyes never blinking but seeing all. His skin crawled at the memory of the mind weapon hidden behind those eyes.
Clearly, the mind weapon had paved their way up the evolutionary ladder. Other than Mike and Reba, Val was not aware of any other creatures in the galaxy that were immune to the weapon.
He wanted to stare at them. Even more, he wanted to pull from them the means to inhibit this mind weapon of theirs, but he could not – yet. He wanted to keep a low profile. The very presence of a uniformed line officer aboard a cruise ship was unusual, and Val explained his presence at the first opportunity. Keeping one eye on the Chessori for reaction, he described how he had lost his job as a ship’s navigation officer after failing to comply with his captain’s demand that he swear loyalty to the Rebels. He made it clear to everyone at the table that he supported the old Empire and would not waver in that position.
Conversation about the coup and its effects on the Empire immediately erupted around the table. The Chessori watched stolidly, their huge eyes betraying no emotion, though he did see questioning looks pass between several as the discussion continued.
“How can there be an Empire when there’s no Queen?” asked the wife of the retired farmer beside him.
“What makes you think there’s no Queen?” Val replied simply.
“Well!” the woman snorted. “Everyone’s seen the pictures. Everyone knows what happened at the Palace.”
“How can you support anyone who would do such a thing?” Val inquired, spreading his hands wide and addressing everyone at the table.
Silence held for a few moments, then several replies came at the same time. The general consensus seemed to be that it was done and could not be undone. It was necessary to consider the future now.
“If the Rebel cause was just,” Val argued when the discussion seemed to be dying down, “I might agree. But to rebuild from a foundation of treachery, of wrongness, to reward the ones who caused it with loyalty and support, what does that say of our values? And what does it say of the eventual success of their venture?”
The table went silent. Val looked at each of them during the silence, then continued. “Would you build your home from defective materials? Would you begin a new business with a knowingly defective business plan? Would you teach your children that honor is dead, that it is proper to reward murder and treachery with loyalty?”
These were not new subjects to these people. He knew they had given careful thought to the ramifications of the coup, though perhaps not in the same terms he had. Probably most discussion centered on what was best for themselves or their own worlds, not what was best for the Empire at large.
“I can tell you,” he continued, keeping an eye on the Chessori for any reaction, “that all modeling I have seen regarding the future of the Empire shows it coming apart at the seams under Rebel leadership. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, but I promise you it will matter to your descendents. Their Empire will not be the pleasant place you have grown up within. I would be surprised to see cruise liners like this one plying the space lanes in two hundred years. It will be too dangerous.”
He turned to Captain Summers. “Have you encountered any pirates yet, sir?”
Summers smiled a tight smile. “No, and it’s your job to prevent that.”
“It was, and I hope it will be again when I find a new ship,” Val responded openly. “Which I hope to find on Orion III. But what if the very people you count on to keep you safe from pirates become pirates themselves? Have you thought of that? Have you thought about what the military could become without firm, centralized political control? And without the values these Rebels have so blatantly abrogated? To whom will the admirals and generals swear allegiance? Might they not become local strongmen, responsible only to themselves?”
Val looked around the table again, then let his gaze come to rest on the Chessori. “What do our Chessori friends think about all this?” he asked in a pleasant voice, inviting a response from them.
The Chessori directly opposite him spread his small hands wide. “To us, this is an internal issue. We take no sides. We are simple traders.”
“Traders?” Val asked in surprise. “Where’s your ship?”
“Ah . . .” the Chessori responded, his mouth turning into a thin, grim line, changing his stony façade instantly. “You ask just the right question, young sir.” He spread his hands to encompass his comrades. “Like you, we, too, are without a ship at the moment. We hope to remedy that on Orion III.”
“What happened to your ship?” Val asked innocently.
“A long story, sir, not appropriate for the table. Though I do not take sides in this internal dispute, I applaud your integrity. Are there others such as yourself?”
“Many. Most, I think. At present, some are adrift in their loyalties. That will change. They just need the right leader.”
“To whom will they swear loyalty? As stated earlier, your Queen is tragically dead.”
Val looked around the table before replying, seeing looks of agreement on most faces. He turned back to the Chessori who appeared to be spokesman for the group. “The Queen is, indeed, dead. The line of Chosen is not.”
There were gasps around the table, though no slightest change of expression appeared on the Chessori faces. Val turned to Captain Summers, discovering him returning Val’s look through narrowed, intent eyes. Val simply raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question as his gaze swept around the table. He turned his attention back to his food, taking a bite and chewing deliberately.
Everyone followed his example for a time, then the businessman on his right asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Is there a new Queen?”
Val deliberated for a time before responding. “At this moment, I cannot provide a satisfactory answer to that question. I can only tell you that my loyalty to the Empire and my oath has not, and will not, waver.”
“But all the Chosen were at the Palace,” one replied.
“According to whom?” Val responded without hesitation. “Struthers?” He paused to let that sink in, then added before returning to his meal, “His whole future rests on your perceptions, and his actions prove he is without honor. The line of Chosen is not ended. I know that for a fact.”
Later, as the table extended its regards to the departing captain and couples began heading off in various directions, Val cornered the Chessori and invited them to share refreshments with him. To his surprise, their spokesman accepted, leading the way to a lounge that was only sparsely occupied.
“Your hang-out?” Val asked as they pulled two tables together, then seated themse
lves.
“Yes,” the leader replied. “I am known as Forg.” He introduced the others and let Val introduce himself.
“I’m Lieutenant Val.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Forg replied as he extended his tiny hand.
Val took it and shook, instantly aware of the fragility of that hand and limiting his own pressure to what would otherwise be considered a weak handshake.
“Thank you,” Forg replied to Val’s thoughtfulness with a smile. “I can’t tell you how many times this hand has been abused. It is a custom we Chessori do not share with you.”
“Then I thank you for the honor extended to me.”
“Just a courtesy. We traders are accustomed to dealing with local customs.”
“Have you been a trader long?”
“All of my adult life, as have my friends here,” Forg said, indicating the other Chessori seated at the table. “We all come from the same family, a family that has been trading for generations.”
‘I know little of the Chessori,” Val answered honestly and intently. “May I ask a few questions?”
“You may. We do not often share in this manner, but the integrity you displayed during the meal deserves the honor of sharing. Such is held in high esteem among us.”
Val allowed a natural smile to light his face, hoping it would take the sting out of his next words. “Honor among traders?”
Forg bowed his head in response. “I sense the humor behind your words and share the joke. We Chessori traders love to bargain, though we do so under very definite rules of ethics. The outcome of any negotiation is to our advantage, or else we turn away. Our profit margins are reasonable, and when we make a deal we always abide by the terms. No exceptions. Those are our rules, and we are well known for them.”
Forg thought for a moment, then added, “Perhaps not so well known in your Empire, yet. We are relative newcomers here.”
Forg’s words took Val by surprise. Either this guy was a very good liar or Val was missing something. He chose his response carefully. “I wouldn’t say the same is true of us. I’m no expert, but I think our traders go for as much profit as they possibly can.”
“They do,” Forg agreed as he nodded his head. “Not difficult to counter if one knows his business well, and we know ours very well. We belong to a large network of traders and usually manage to find buyers before reaching agreement with the sellers. We rarely guess at profit margins.”
“How can you do that?” Val asked in surprise. “Aren’t most of your deliveries completed in other star systems?”
“Yes, of course, or my ship and crew would not be needed. We’re part of a very large . . . guild . . . you would call it, and we have our methods.”
Was Forg hinting at the Chessori interstellar communications capability? Val decided to tread in less dangerous waters until he got to know these Chessori better. He changed the subject. “You seemed interested in the discussion about our Queen. Do you have a similar government where you come from?”
“Definitely not,” Forg replied. “All male Chessori belong to guilds of various kinds. Some guilds have superior status compared to others, but commerce governs all. For example, if you need a new ship, you bargain with the shipbuilding guild. If you need a new home, you bargain with the homebuilding guild. If, instead, you desire a ship that is not new, you would bargain with a guild specializing in used ships. I know that in your empire it is possible to deal directly with a ship’s present owner, thereby bypassing the ship-selling guild, but that is not possible among the Chessori. I and my friends here,” he said, indicating the others seated at the table, “belong to a trader guild. We buy, transport, and sell. That is all.”
“Are there other trader guilds?” Val asked, interested in Forg’s description of his society.
“There are. Most tend to focus on one or two sectors within our empire, though some focus on special items as well.”
Val spent the next couple of days getting to know the Chessori. The process seemed remarkably easy, almost as if they were helping to speed things along. He wouldn’t say they became friends, nor could he ever trust any Chessori after the horrible agony they had inflicted on him, but they became comfortable with each other.
Following another dinner at the captain’s table, a dinner the captain had not attended for one reason or another, Val settled down with the Chessori for drinks in the lounge they had taken to frequenting.
“Do your trading activities compete successfully with the other races in your empire?” he asked. “I mean, maybe Chessori traders deal honestly, but surely not everyone else does.”
“You ask many pertinent questions,” Forg responded, looking at him thoughtfully. He glanced at his partners, though no words were exchanged between them.
When Forg turned his attention back to Val, he continued staring for a time before answering. “It is clear to us that you seek knowledge of the Chessori. In addition to that, you have given each of us the strong impression that you are more than you appear, and that you are a person of great integrity. Integrity is important to the Chessori. It is a fundamental tenet of our existence, as we have explained. Is it possible that you seek something from us, and that in exchange you might have something we want? Care to deal?”
Val’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What is it that you want?”
“A ship.”
“A ship!”
“A ship. Specifically, we would like our old ship returned to us.” Val stayed mute, caught completely by surprise. Forg added, “We are traders, but we cannot trade without a ship. “
“What happened to your ship?” Val asked guardedly.
“Have negotiations begun?” Forg asked, looking directly into Val’s eyes.
Val’s pulse quickened. “Maybe they have, and maybe they haven’t. We can call this off at any time if we don’t come to agreement, right?”
“Agreed.”
“So what happened to your ship?”
“Can you get it back for us if I tell you?”
“Probably not, but how can I tell unless I know the whole story?”
“You admit, then, that it is a possibility? Are you more than you appear to be, or are you a simple pilot looking for work?”
Val had a strong urge to rub the stubble on his chin, but he was not about to reveal his increasing tension to this Chessori.
“Forg,” he replied, “I’m a pilot, as I told you. I’m connected with others, with many others who might be able to help you, but you ask much.”
“Would one of them be this Queen you mentioned?” Forg asked quietly.
Without hesitation, Val responded, “I will not tell you who my associates are. We have to get to know one another much, much better before that discussion takes place.” Jeez, he thought to himself, this guy is sharp. He scares me. Where’s Reba when I need her?
“And we shall. Let me leave you with a further thought before we part this night. I am Chessori. As such, I am bound by the rules of my guild. All Chessori are bound by such rules. One particular guild, a very senior guild, has chosen to interpret one of our rules in such a way that I and my guild members consider incorrect. That interpretation has led to the annexation of my ship, and mine is not the only ship taken in this manner. I intend to right this wrong. I will have my ship back.”
“You speak of dishonor among your people.”
Forg nodded solemnly. “I do. I do not say these words lightly. What has happened to me and my crew is bad, very bad. It is against all Chessori custom.”
“I am not Chessori. Is this conversation appropriate?”
Forg leaned toward him. “Probably not, but all of us sense something special in you. We have given this careful consideration. There is much competition between certain of our guilds. Some competition strengthens, but this particular competition weakens.”
Forg rose from the table, his crew rising with him. “I seek that which is right for my people. We might well be strengthened if we do this right. We
will retire now. Do you wish to continue negotiations tomorrow?”
Val nodded. “Perhaps over breakfast?”
They exchanged details on where to meet, then Forg bowed and turned away.
Val stayed for a while, deep in thought. >Are we falling into a trap, Artmis?<
>Maybe. Are these Chessori who and what they appear to be, simple traders, or are they part of the same group pursuing Ellie? I don’t know.<
How in the world were they going to determine the truth, Val wondered? At the very least, the Chessori were not to be trusted. Yet, he might really be on to something here. He, Mike, and Chandrajuski had considered the possibility that not all Chessori were involved in the coup. Was Forg hinting at a split of some kind among his people? Was it possible this guild thing had anything to do with it? If so, how big a deal was it to the Chessori? Was he dealing with one shanghaied crew, or were there others, possibly many others, who felt the same way?
>Consider a larger scale, Val. Could the Chessori be in the midst of a civil war themselves?<
>That’s too big, Artmis, and the timing would be pretty coincidental, don’t you think? If I’m not reading Forg completely wrong, my guess is that this is more of an inter-guild thing, not an empire-busting thing. But we’ll keep your idea in mind, as well as the fact that we might be reading Forg wrong.<
Fundamentally, if what Forg said was true, the Chessori were traders, bargaining until an agreement was hammered out. If true, since the Chessori were assisting Struthers, it meant that Struthers had struck an agreement with them.
>Did he strike an agreement with all the Chessori, or was the deal with just some of them, maybe just one guild?< Artmis wondered. >How well does Struthers know the Chessori? Could he have struck a deal with just some of them, perhaps thinking those he dealt with represented all Chessori when, in fact, they didn’t, or did he strike the deal with certain knowledge that the Chessori leadership stood behind the agreement?<
So many questions and no good answers. Val had six Chessori to question and learn from, really just one if Forg was fully in charge. Surely Struthers had dealt with many others, was, in fact, dealing with many others at this very moment. The Chessori were spreading quickly through the Empire, and the ones he had encountered prior to Forg were definitely siding with the Rebels. But what if they represented just one guild? What if not all guilds supported the Rebels? Was Forg a good guy or a bad guy?
Knights of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book Two) Page 7