Knights of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book Two)

by Lawrence P White

  “Have you spoken with Admiral Jeffers about what’s going on here?”

  “I have not, Your Majesty. There hasn’t been a spare moment yet.”

  “Serge Parsons and his outlaws have developed some refinements for their ships. We’ve begun a program to refit my ships with these improved systems. When Chandrajuski drops from hyper, he’ll be here in a few hours.”

  Buskin stared at her, his mind calculating. There wasn’t much to calculate. “They can jump within a system?”

  “Almost into atmosphere, and they have beacons that can be modified at will, or simply turned off without all the difficulties Rappor had to go through. We’re surveying Rappor right now to see if we can give Krys the upgrades. Longer range and more powerful weapons are also part of the package.”

  “I’d better talk with him. I want them for my ships, as well.”

  “You’ll get them, but it’s going to be a while. Modifying the ships is a slow process, and the ships here will be the first to receive them.”

  “There are a lot of ships here. Must I wait?”

  “These ships have a special purpose. They will fight the Chessori.” His eyebrows rose. “Did you know your First Knight is from an emerging world?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Did you know that he’s immune to the scree?”

  “What’s the scree?”

  “The mind weapon of the Chessori. And he’s not the only one. We believe everyone from his world is immune. We’ve brought a number of warriors from his planet, and they’re learning to fly our ships as we speak.”

  Buskin leaned back in his chair, thinking deeply this time. When he looked up at her, she waited expectantly. “So that’s what’s going on. We noticed their strange behavior as we were inbound. Training, huh? Can they learn? It’s asking a lot from an emerging world.”

  “Your First Knight had about two months of training before bringing me some 800 light years without an AI. We took out a number of Chessori in the process. Not only can they learn, they learn quickly.”

  Buskin slapped a fist into an open hand. “They’re immune, they can fight, and they can fly. Can they lead?”

  “I didn’t name him First Knight for nothing, Admiral They came with no experience of space travel, but most of them were officers or senior enlisted in their military. They’re all leaders.”

  “Did he bring admirals?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because I’ve been training Great Cats to fly my ships. Until now, they’ve been the only ones who could function against the Chessori. They’re good, but they’re not leaders. I need leaders who won’t be disabled by the Chessori. I only need one or two if they’re good.”

  “All the more reason to speak with Chandrajuski. Would you like to meet the leader of these men from Earth?”

  “Earth?” he said, scratching his chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”

  “You haven’t. It’s the name they call their world. We only have a numerical designation for it. Why don’t we go find him.”

  His eyebrows dropped in a question. “Just call for him, Your Majesty.”

  “No. He’s extremely busy. We’ll go to him.”

  Just before boarding the shuttle, Ralph, her Protector, brought her a message. “Sir Mike and Otis have dropped from hyper, Your Majesty.”

  Surprise turned to excitement for Ellie, and a smile lit her face. “Thank you, Ralph. I’ll clear my schedule.”

  She and Buskin found Trexler aboard a cruiser orbiting Parsons’ World. He and two other admirals from Earth were in the midst of a simulated battle of fleet proportions and were not to be disturbed. Ellie could have insisted, but she did not. Training took first priority.

  Buskin looked thoughtful and turned to the ship’s captain. “I’d like to observe. Can I go in without disturbing them?”

  “Yes, sir. You can.” He turned to Ellie. “Your Majesty?” he asked her with a questioning look.

  “I have other plans. We’ll set something up for the day after tomorrow,” she said to Buskin.

  “Very well, Your Majesty.”

  She left, and Buskin went to the operations center, entering quietly. There he found a Schect and three men in strange uniforms, all of them lounging with helmets on, all within the net. He donned a helmet himself and went into the net, remaining in the background.

  He observed the three admirals in the midst of an engagement. They had eight squadrons of fast ships against twelve squadrons of Rebels. The Rebels didn’t have fast ships, of course. Four friendly squadrons were heavily engaged against one enemy squadron each. The remaining four friendly squadrons were doing their best to occupy the other eight Rebel squadrons, jumping in and out with hard punches to prevent their joining the main battle. It didn’t look like the battle had been going on for very long.

  M’Coda sensed Buskin’s presence and went to him. Both having worked for Chandrajuski, they knew each other fairly well. M’Coda greeted him warmly while keeping his attention on the battle. “I heard you were here,” he said. “How goes your mission?”

  “Well enough. I’d like to observe for a while if you don’t mind. What are the parameters they’re fighting under?”

  “The Rebel ships are being flown by Chessori. We’ve had to make some assumptions with their performance. Our ships are fast ships, and we have the new, improved shields and weapons, but we’re seriously understaffed. One gunner to each battery is all I’ve given them. It’s all we can muster at present.”

  “One gunner for each battery! I wouldn’t have guessed. They’re pretty effective.”

  “These guys fight hard, and their flying is improving daily.” As they watched, two enemy squadrons broke away and headed toward one of Trexler’s squadrons that was fully engaged. Trexler broke up two of his harrying squadrons, sending a frigate and six fighters from each to engage the two Chessori squadrons. Buskin sucked in his breath.

  “I know,” M’Coda said. “I hate it when he does this.”

  “I’ve been working on some tactics of my own,” Buskin said. “I think I’d have pulled the first squadron back.”

  “My feelings, exactly. We train to fight as full squadrons, and we always keep them intact.” He spoke to Trexler. “What are you doing, Ray?”

  “Let me try this. If I can hold these guys off for just a little while, we’ll improve the numbers.”

  “We’ve trained to fight as full squadrons.”

  “You have, but my guys are new to this and won’t care. Let’s see what happens.”

  The battle rapidly became more complicated. In the space of half an hour, Trexler was forced to divide his two remaining harrying squadrons, leaving eight half-squadrons to hold off eight full Chessori squadrons. His better weapons and shields made a difference, though, and within the next hour the Chessori lost four squadrons. It was now down to squadron against squadron. Trexler had lost six fighters but no capital ships, and it was just a matter of fighting it out now on an equal basis.

  M’Coda called a halt to the action. The purpose here today was not to learn to fight squadron against squadron – they already knew how to do that. Today’s purpose had been to focus on fleet tactics.

  M’Coda clicked his mandibles when everyone was out of the net, and he began a refreshing preening of his whiskers. “I call that a win, Ray, but I still don’t like it. I’d have sent your eight squadrons up against the twelve Chessori squadrons all at once.”

  “I know, but if these had been real ships, and if you surveyed my captains after the battle, I think you’d find they were better focused. Each squadron commander, or half-squadron, had a specific responsibility. They didn’t have to concern themselves with the rest of the battle, only their own assignments, and it let them focus on real tactics rather than just a free for all.”

  “Your harrying ships were badly outnumbered.”

  “They were already badly outnumbered, but they didn’t have to remain engaged. They hit hard, then danced away, r
epeatedly. It was only a risk until the first four squadrons were neutralized. Once they were, it was squadron against squadron.”

  “We’ll have to repeat this with real squadrons tied into the net. I’m not sure your squadron commanders would have made the necessary adjustments as well as the computer let them. The new program for tying real ships together should be ready soon.”

  Trexler nodded. “We can never forget that computers are doing the fighting in these simulators. We won’t really know what we’re up against until it’s the real thing.” He turned to the stranger and stuck his hand out. “I’m Ray Trexler.”

  “Oriska Buskin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “You’re the Admiral Buskin?”

  “I am, sir.”

  “Well, it’s a pleasure, indeed. I didn’t know you were in the area.”

  “Just a quick visit. I have a few ships hiding out elsewhere, and I need to get back to them. I’m waiting to see Chandrajuski.”

  “I’ll bet you are. How many ships?”

  “Three hundred at last count. I’ve been away for four months. I’m certain we’ve had additions.”

  Trexler’s eyebrows rose. “Three hundred! You’ve doubled the Queen’s resources.”

  “But they’re all outdated now. None of them is a fast ship.”

  Trexler smiled, and a glimmer lit his eyes. “I don’t doubt you’ll get your conversions, Admiral.”

  “Seems I’m last on the list, though.” He looked from Trexler to M’Coda, then back to Trexler. “That was some fancy fighting. Can we talk?”

  M’Coda led them to the squadron commander’s conference room. As soon as they were seated, Buskin dove in.

  “I just learned of your immunity to the scree. I’m in the process of recruiting Great Cats. Until now, they’ve been the only ones to successfully function under the scree. It’s tough on them, but they can do it until we get more of you from Earth to replace them, and it looks like that’s going to take a while.”

  Trexler nodded. “It will. We’re trying to keep this quiet on Earth. Things will get real bad there when knowledge of the Empire gets out. We have to be selective, and the numbers are going to be small for a while.”

  “Can you spare an admiral or two?”

  Trexler frowned. “Why?”

  “How well do you know the Great Cats?”

  “Not well.”

  “They’re incredible fighters, and there’s no one better at Protection, but they’ve never been asked to lead on this scale. Quite frankly, they’re not very good at it. They’re fighters, and they lead well in small skirmishes, but they do not lead major engagements well. In our training, my commanders have had to lead from afar in order to avoid the scree, and I’m sure you can see the limitations of that.”

  “I can.” Trexler’s eyes rose to the ceiling as he considered, then he looked sharply at Buskin. “How many?”

  “I really need one for each squadron, but I can get started with just a couple. I don’t have that many cats yet. Anything will be an improvement over my present situation.”

  “I can spare two, but that’s all. Chandrajuski is planning a major campaign soon. I don’t know if you’ll be part of it or not.”

  “I know for a fact that I’ll face a thousand Chessori ships sometime in the future. I can’t say when, but I think I’m alone with my own forces.”

  Trexler looked at him in confusion. “How can you possibly know that?”

  Buskin stared at him for a time, his thoughts considering implications. “Have you met Lady Krys?” he asked.

  “Lady Krys? No, sir. Who’s she?”

  Buskin’s lips pursed. “She just arrived a few days ago. You and I need to see the Queen, Admiral. I’m not at liberty to say more, but I’d appreciate it if you’ll call me Oriska.”

  Trexler’s eyes went to the emblems on Buskin’s shoulders. “You seriously outrank me, Admiral Buskin. I’m Ray, and we can see the Queen right now as far as I’m concerned.”

  Despite the gravity of his need, Buskin smiled. “Rank holds little value against these Chessori, Ray. I’m Oriska to you.” He turned to M’Coda. “You as well, my friend. I see that you, too, got a promotion out of all this.”

  “Among Chandrajuski’s followers, we’re not focused on rank, only results.”

  Buskin nodded his head. “You’re the best tactician in the fleet. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather see training these men from Earth.”

  M’Coda stopped his preening. “I’m not sure who’s training whom,” he said, clicking his mandibles. “These warriors from Earth might be new to space, but they’re creative.”

  Buskin shrugged. “We’ve never dealt with tactics on this scale. We’re writing a whole new book, and I’ll take any input I can get. I’ve been working with another of your people, a Lieutenant Commander M’Sada. He’s been quite helpful.”

  M’Coda’s upper hands moved to his antennae for a refreshing preening. “Commanders advising senior Admirals. What’s it come to?”

  Trexler stood. “To the Queen?” he asked.

  Buskin motioned him back to his seat. “She just received word that her First Knight is back. She’s clearing her schedule.”

  Trexler smiled. “That’s good news. Have you heard his story?”

  “Not first hand. Sir Otis gave Lady Krys some of the details. Quite remarkable.”

  “To say the least. So you’ve been to see Otis?”

  “He sent us here. Lady Krys has been searching for the Queen for two years. Parsons’ World is a well kept secret. Until the Queen is available, I’d like to discuss tactics with you if you have the time. The tactics we’ve been developing for the Great Cats are quite different than what you were using just now, and I’d appreciate any suggestions you might have to improving them.”

  He stared hard at Trexler. “Who knows, you might be commanding my men before too long, and it will be against ten times the number of ships you were just facing.”

  * * * * *

  Mike and Otis went all the way to Shipyard only to discover that Ellie had left. When they arrived on Parsons’ World and exited the freighter, she was about to throw her arms around him when she suddenly stopped and peered hard at him.

  “You’ve changed,” she said, taking a step back.

  “What did you expect?” he asked with a grin from ear to ear. “Between Josh’s physical training and Otis’ ideas on outdoor living, I’m tanned and in the best shape I’ve ever been in.”

  “Who’s Josh?” she asked.

  “You’ll meet him later. Come here,” he said, holding out his arms.

  She smothered him in kisses before taking his arm in her own and leading them to her apartment, classes, admirals, and wars forgotten for one day.

  There was considerable confusion as her Protectors and their Terran counterparts settled into their new quarters, and she found herself practically stumbling over bodies of one sort or another. She called Otis, Mike, and Josh into a meeting. Ralph, never far from her side, was there, as well.

  “This isn’t working,” she stated, brooking no argument. “I have three cats with me at all times plus, now, three of Josh’s men. We’re falling all over ourselves. Otis, something needs to give.”

  Otis sat with his tail about his feet, a position Mike had learned was his ‘listening to Ellie’ pose, sort of at attention but sort of insolent as well, something every cat he had ever known excelled at. Otis had never brooked argument from Ellie when it came to her safety, nor would he now even if he wasn’t her personal Protector.

  “What do you suggest, Your Majesty?”

  “One Terran only,” she demanded. “Everyone else can follow or precede at a distance.”

  Otis was stunned, maybe the most surprised Mike had ever seen him. “You would be without a Protector, Your Majesty? The Chosen have had Protectors at their sides for two thousand years. I must insist on at least one of my men.”

  Ellie let a glint slip into her eyes, then a triumph
ant smile lit her face. “Thank you, Otis. I accept. I knew you’d double whatever I demanded, so one of each it is. It’s what I had in mind all along.”

  Otis let his steady gaze rest on her for a time. Nothing was said, but waves of meaning passed between the two of them. Cats do that so well, Mike thought, chuckling to himself.

  Otis eventually nodded his head. “It shall be so unless we suspect trouble, then Ralph has free reign. He will not be overruled in this,” he added with narrowed eyes.

  Though technically not part of her assigned protection team, Josh, Mike, Jessie, and Otis were often in Ellie’s presence, adding to her protection. Nor did she resist. She had always needed people around her and welcomed their presence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ellie’s forces were growing, and as they did the number of key leaders was increasing. She wanted all of them to meet together, but she decided that Mike needed to meet Krys first. The whole idea of visions bothered him, and she suspected that, deep inside, he feared her Seer.

  She called Krys to her quarters. She arrived wearing her standard ship attire, nothing fancy for what to her was a visit to the one she called mother. Ellie met her at the door and invited her in.

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, dear.”

  She swept her arm toward Mike, and Krys let out a gasp. Her hand went to her mouth, so in shock that she couldn’t speak.

  He held his place, afraid to approach this dark haired, fragile-looking young woman. Her very existence spoke of the ancient shamans of his ancestors. Ellie had warned him, but in his mind he had still expected an old crone wearing a cape and a witch’s hat, bent over from age and arthritis. Instead, before him stood a young woman whose strong resemblance to Val, her twin brother, was undeniable.

  Ellie stood back herself, uncertain of the outcome of this meeting and sensing waves of emotion within the room.

  Mike was first to speak. “Lady Krys.”

  “The man of dirt,” she breathed. “At last.” She stared into his eyes. She had waited long to meet this man, and suddenly, here he was.