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

by Lawrence P White

  “We do have to take on the Chessori, Serge, and only my people can do it. Uh . . . there’s one more thing on my list.”

  Serge leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his drink, thinking about all that Mike had said. “First Knight, it’s been a struggle to convince my people to support the Queen, and most still oppose the whole idea. You’ve just given me the tools to convince them. Parsons’ World and Shipyard are many things, but first and foremost, we value our freedom. We won’t be anyone’s slaves. You’ll have your fast ships, your manufacturing facilities, and your tiny little gunships. Whatever it takes, we will support you. But how are you going to do it?”

  “What do you think all these people we’ve brought here are for?”

  “A thousand? What good is a thousand?”

  “It’s a start, Serge. The source of these warriors is not unlimited. Don’t forget, it’s an emerging world, and it has its own problems. We’ll get more, in fact we already have more, and it’s going to work. Very soon now we’re going to clear the Chessori from Centauri III.”

  “One world?”

  “One important world. While we’re at it, we’ll remove the Rebels, then we’ll spread out into the rest of the sectors and do the same.”

  Serge leaned back with his eyes closed, clearly upset. “Gods!” he whispered to himself. Then he roused himself, peering hard into Mike’s eyes. “Do you comprehend the enormity of your task? There are 46 more sector headquarters and hundreds of districts in each sector.”

  “I think it’s our task, yours and the Queen’s. Don’t you?”

  Serge let out a long breath. “We’ll certainly have to play a part. The Rebel threat is bad enough all by itself. I hadn’t figured the Chessori into it properly. I’m glad you have.”

  “The Queen has, Serge. And she’s right when she says that final resolution lays in the political arena. I agree with her insofar as the Rebels are concerned, but quite frankly, I’m focused more on the Chessori. We do not have a political agenda to refute them. We have to take them out by force, and only my people can do it.”

  “I agree with you, and for purely selfish reasons, we have to protect your world to provide for our own freedom. I’m ready to get started on these things immediately. What’s the other project you wanted to mention?”

  “Resolve, and I think all of your ships, have beacons that can be changed. In fact, they can be completely turned off. You’re modifying our ships to do the same. What’s going to happen when the Chessori and/or the Rebels do the same? How are we going to find them?”

  Serge’s eyes rose to the ceiling in thought. When his gaze turned back to Mike, he said, “Our AI’s look for beacons. So do the Chessori AI’s, right?”

  Mike nodded. “I would assume so. Everyone broadcasts a signal of some sort. We see them, and they see us.”

  “For good reason – it’s how we keep from hitting each other. My few ships have not affected the system’s safety, but only because we still see everyone else and we’re few in number. What you suggest is catastrophe.”

  “It’s worse, Serge. How are we going to locate them in time to fight them off?”

  Mike could see the wheels turning in Serge’s head as he considered space flight from the standpoint of large battles. Before now, his focus had been on single ship operations.

  “What if we tuned our sensors to look for drive signatures or something rather than just beacons?” Mike asked.

  “They already do, but only at close range. What you’re talking about would require long range sensors that are extremely sensitive, something on the order of space stations, not ships. I don’t know if it can be done.”

  “It has to be done, Serge. You know as well as I do that the day is coming when all combatants are going to stop advertising their presence free of charge to the enemy.”

  Serge nodded, his lips pursed into a thin line.

  Mike added, “If space stations are the only way, then let’s build them, but ultimately we need mobile stations that can travel with the fleet, even if they’re unarmed.”

  “Unarmed? You must be crazy. Who would fly it? I wouldn’t even consider stepping into such a ship.”

  “If you build it, or teach us how to build it, I’ll get crews. We’ll protect them with regular ships.”

  The concept of going into space in an unarmed ship deeply troubled Serge, but as he considered it, his eyes lit up. “Actually, it might be possible. I’m on uncertain ground here, I’ll definitely need to run it by my scientists, but if the ship is not shielded, it would have a much clearer view of its surroundings, and its sensors would be more efficient. We might be able to make it a lot smaller if we don’t have to defend it. I’m thinking about something that acts only as a passive listening post, you understand.”

  “It needs to be more than that. If this ever comes to pass, these listening posts will become our command posts.”

  “And when the enemy figures out where the commands are coming from, what then?”

  “If you build them, I’ll defend them, Serge.”

  Serge sighed. “You’re right. Defending them is your problem. Mine is to keep my people free. I’ll get started on these ideas immediately. In fact, I already have an idea for these listening posts.” Mike looked a question at him, and Serge answered. “To get started, we could use space tugs. They’re readily available, and they’re big enough for a significant crew. They don’t have shields, so it will be easy to mount the necessary sensors. We’ll need to install additional communications capabilities, but that shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Mike held up his hand. “Not so fast. My purpose in coming here today was to see if these ideas had any merit. It appears they might, though the experts might very well refute them, and that’s okay because at least we’ll get them considering new avenues of thought. Who knows what they’ll come up with? All I want to do is get them to dust the cobwebs off, start with a clean sheet of paper, see about these systems modifications and consider the ramifications of building serious manufacturing capabilities on an emerging world. A few hours, or even a few days, are not going to decide things. I want to run this through channels.”

  “Through channels! That could take months.”

  “No, it won’t. Chandrajuski’s sharp. Let me plant the idea with him. He’ll work through Jons, who already has a good rapport with your experts, and they can pursue it together. It would speed things along if you were there to give approval to your guys.”

  “It’s a good plan, First Knight. I have some convincing to do among my associates, but I won’t delay.”

  “I’m going to Earth for a couple of months. I’ll get things started on that end.”

  Serge lifted his glass to Mike. “We’re playing for the highest stakes – our freedom. Does the Queen know about our conversation?”

  “Not yet, but she will. Know this, Serge: there are no secrets kept from her. I just wanted to sound you out first. Without you on board, this wouldn’t have worked, and I don’t distract her with useless ideas. Since you’re willing to help, I’ll let her know. If there’s anything she can do to help you, don’t hesitate to call her. I’ll be back in a few months.”

  Serge looked across the bar room at the raucous crowd. They were his people, and they were depending on him for their continued freedom. He stroked his goatee as his mind considered his future course. Parsons’ World depended on trade, both licit and illicit, but for a while, trading was going to suffer. His resources were going to be devoted to getting these projects for Earth up and running.

  “You can let her know I’m on board. You’ll have the resources of Parsons’ World and Shipyard behind you. Don’t worry on that score.” A chill ran through Serge’s body, and he visibly shook once again as he considered the very real possibility of enslavement by the Chessori. His people might be some of the first enslaved, since they competed directly with the Chessori traders.

  “We’re counting on the Queen and her Empire, but now my people and I are coun
ting on you, personally, First Knight. We can’t fight the Chessori. You can. We’ll provide the resources, but you have to keep us free. That’s the deal. We’ll worry about the cost later. You’re our leader for the moment, and I’m not going to let you forget it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lady Krys barely remembered boarding the ship on Parsons’ World. She’d been given a Rider shortly after Tarn’s Naming, and Maelia completely entranced her. Worries about Rebels, coups, the Chessori, First Knights and the Queen, even the dangers of her continuing voyages had been shut out. Maelia had been her sole focus.

  Now, days later, she felt as if she’d awoken from a dream. She looked around the room, a room she’d paid little attention to, and it suddenly mattered. Sir Tarn, the newest and youngest of all the Knights, waited half asleep in a chair.

  “Hello, my love,” she said.

  He straightened in the chair, but he didn’t rise. “Are you back?”

  “I am.” She got up from the bed and kneeled on the deck in front of him, resting her head on his lap with her arms around his waist. “Hmm,” she murmured.

  He ran his hands through her hair. “So you have a new friend. Is there still room for me?”

  She got up and sat on his lap, her hands going around his neck. She gave him a long, lingering kiss. “Is that answer enough?”

  An uncertain grin found its way to his face. “What’s her name?”

  “Maelia. She says hello.”

  “Hello, Maelia.” To Krys, he said, “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

  “Not particularly. I know I was out of it, but I remember you bringing me meals. How long have we been here?”

  “Don’t you have another source for answers now?”

  “I do, but I’m asking you.”

  “We boarded three days ago.”

  “I vaguely remember something about going to Earth.”

  “We are. We’ll change ships there and get going on our mission.”

  She leaned away from him, distraught. “We’ve lost Rappor?”

  “For now. She’ll be reconditioned, brought up to date when they can fit her into the schedule. We’re getting a fast ship, one with all the latest upgrades. The Queen is seriously concerned about your well-being.”

  “What about Stven and M’Sada and the rest of the crew?”

  “All here.”

  She smiled and stood up. “Then it’s okay. I need some exercise. It’s been days and days. Care to join me?”

  He grimaced. “If you insist. I’ve been skipping my workouts, too. This room’s too small. Let’s go to the exercise room.”

  “Can’t it be just the two of us? I don’t know if I’m ready to face the world yet.”

  “I don’t think the exercise room is used much. Come on.”

  “Let me change first.”

  “Don’t bother. This won’t be a serious work-out, just some stretching and a little exercise. You can go as you are.”

  Borg, her Protector, waited outside the room, but at a signal from Tarn, he padded away. Krys took Tarn’s arm, but then realized she didn’t know which way to go. In fact, she didn’t even know what ship she was on, but it didn’t matter at the moment. Their mission lay in the future, her present was perfect, and she wasn’t going to disrupt that perfection with details. It was just her, Tarn, and Maelia, and she felt like she was still in a dream, a perfect dream.

  Tarn led her to the exercise room, and they settled into their stretches, each silently experiencing the joy of each other and of muscles warming up. She was stretching across one leg with her hands around her foot when a stranger entered the room, the largest man she’d ever seen. Muscles bulged from the arms of a short, white shirt that left his midriff exposed, and baggy pants covered massive legs, each the size of her torso.

  He saw her, and brilliant white teeth illuminated his dark brown face in a smile. Large, wide-spaced eyes stared at her for a moment, then he nodded and looked around the room. It was a large room, but he picked a spot near her and sat on the deck. He started his own stretches, and she was surprised at the flexibility of such a large body. He caught her staring at him, and she blushed as she went into another stretch of her own. She couldn’t help herself, so amazed was she at the sheer size of this man who moved so gracefully. She couldn’t keep herself from studying him.

  He looked up, caught her eyes on him, and smiled again. “I’m Terry Washburn. Have we met?” he said with a wonderful, mellow voice. However, Galactic High Standard was clearly not his first language. His diction needed a lot of improvement.

  “I don’t think so. I’m Krys.”

  The man’s eyes moved to Tarn with a questioning look. “Tarn Lukes,” Tarn said brusquely.

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said, his diction rough but understandable. He looked at Krys, and she sensed he was looking for the right words. “You have only one name?”

  “Just Krys,” she said with a smile.

  “It must be a cultural thing,” the man mumbled to himself. His words were in another language, and Krys didn’t understand, but Maelia did. She translated as quickly as the man spoke.

  >How did you do that? You know what he said?< she demanded in surprise.

  >I do. Hmm, this is interesting. He spoke in Mike’s language.<

  >He’s from Earth? You know his language?<

  She felt Maelia smiling, one of the few direct emotions she had felt from her new Rider. The two of them still had a long way to go as two independent people learned to share her body.

  >Consider my roots, Krys. I come from Jake, the First Knight’s Rider, and I have Jake’s memories. Of course I understand Mike’s language.<

  Krys leaned forward with her legs out to each side, her elbows resting comfortably on the floor between her legs. She rested her chin in her hands as she studied this giant of a man. “It’s not a cultural thing. It’s just the only name I have.”

  He straightened and shook his head. Clearly, he did not understand her words. “Sorry.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out three translator pins. He tossed one to Krys, one to Tarn, and put one on his own ear. Borg chose that moment to enter, and the man tossed another translator to the Great Cat.

  Krys had never seen a translator before, let alone needed one. She followed the man’s example and put it on her own ear, then repeated her statement.

  “It’s not a cultural thing. It’s the only name I have.”

  “Krys,” he said, tasting the name. “A fine name, especially when it’s the only one you have. Pleased to meet you. You too, Tarn Lukes.”

  She continued to study him with her chin resting in her hands. He went back to his stretches, but his gaze remained on her. She liked his eyes. His gaze seemed to penetrate, and she sensed intelligence and caring.

  “You’re from Earth,” she said.

  “I am. And you?”

  “I’m really not certain where I’m from. I never knew my parents.” Why had she told him that, she wondered? It wasn’t something she usually shared.

  “I’m sorry. That must be hard. I grew up in a large family.”

  “Not so hard if it’s all you know, but it would be nice to have a family. I’ll have one of my own one day, if I live that long.” Why had she said that? She glanced at Tarn who was frowning at her choice of words. She reached over and squeezed his hand.

  Terry Washburn stopped moving. “If you live that long?”

  “Sorry, it just slipped out. Don’t concern yourself. We’re headed to Earth. Are you being sent back?”

  He went back to his stretches. “Not exactly. I’m on assignment.” Her eyebrows rose in a question, but he shook his head. “Sorry, Krys. People in my line of work don’t talk about assignments.”

  “What’s your line of work?”

  “I’m a soldier, and from time to time a ship’s gunner.”

  “So that’s why you’re here. Have you seen any action?”

  “Some.”

  “Some? Is that all you can say?”


  “I don’t know how much you know about what’s going on.”

  “I know enough to know that you men of Earth are here to counter the Chessori. Have you met them yet?”

  “Met them and killed them,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “So you’ve experienced the scree.”

  “I’ve seen it in action. To me, it’s just . . . nothing.”

  She shuddered. “I didn’t know that Chandrajuski’s new recruits had seen action yet.”

  “I don’t think they have, though I really can’t say. I’m part of another group.”

  She sat up straight. Who this man was suddenly fell into place. “You’re with Mike.”

  “Sir Mike, Krys. So you know him. Have you heard about what he’s been doing?”

  “In general terms. I know you took out a Rebel light squadron at Brodor. Were you involved in that?”

  “I was. I was in charge of the gun crews, and I went aboard the cruiser we took over. I think I was the first Terran aboard, though I’m not sure. We were a little busy at the time, and I was just one of three teams penetrating the ship.”

  “Terran?”

  “It’s what we call ourselves,” he said kindly, the bright smile back in place.

  “If you were on Brodor with Mike, you must have met Otis, too.”

  He nodded. “I’ve met Sir Otis and passed his course.”

  “You’re a Protector, then?”

  “The Great Cats are the real Protectors, Krys. Together, we make a good team.”

  He had apparently finished with his stretches, because he got up and went over to study the exercise equipment. He ran his hands over a couple of pieces, then stood back and stared at the equipment with his back to Krys and Tarn. It was clear he had no idea how the equipment worked.

  Krys got up and went to his side. “These are quite specific. What part of your body would you like to work on?”

  “All of it,” he said with a surprised look. “Isn’t that what workouts are all about?”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s better to focus on specific parts of the body. Here, try this. You can start with your lower body.”