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

by Lawrence P White

  “Well, let’s see. Birth place unknown. Raised on Hespra III in an orphanage. They didn’t designate their clients with names, just numbers, so you didn’t have an official name. Your designation was 5397867B. Your twin brother was designated 5397867A. He’s out on assignment right now. I hear he’s a Knight, too. You were pulled from the orphanage at the age of sixteen, spent two years with Sir Otis and a woman named Daughter, who’s now Queen, then went to Rrestriss for seven years of schooling. I hear that’s quite a boon. You have some kind of special skills, skills to which I am not privy, that require your going out into the Empire to spread a message. Actually, I’m more interested in the recruiting and the intelligence gathering you’ve done since it might make all the difference to Earth. We were not given specifics of your mission, but I speak for everyone here when I say that your discovery of direct threats to Earth suddenly makes me more concerned with your welfare than I was. My Lady.”

  She stared at him, then turned to study each of the others with a whole new intensity. Her hands went out to her sides of their own accord. “What’s going on here?” she asked softly.

  The rest of her crew chose that moment to enter the room. Stven came first, his head towering over the assembly as soon as he cleared the door. M’Sada came next, his upper hands busily preening his two long antennae. Behind M’Sada came Gortlan, Gordi’i and Kali’i.

  The First Knight came to the door, but he did not enter the room. He just leaned against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest.

  “Some new additions to your crew, My Lady,” Captain Stven said. “If you’ll have them.”

  Terry Washburn and Tom O’Brien stood beside the apparatus they’d been working out on, and everyone else had risen to their feet, including Tarn. She went to him and put her arms around him, continuing to stare at the people in the room, her eyes wide.

  “You’d go with me, with us?” she asked, staring at Washburn, then O’Brien and the rest of the men.

  “If you’ll have us,” Washburn answered for everyone.

  She left Tarn’s side and went to each of the Protectors in turn, then O’Brien, and Washburn last. She put her arms around his sweaty torso in an embrace. It felt like she’d grabbed a rock. “I will have you. All of you,” she said, looking up into those wonderful eyes.

  She looked at Mike. “This is your doing, First Knight?”

  “It’s the Queen’s doing, Krys. If you’ll have them, you’re free to speak. There need be no secrets withheld from them, and as your Protectors, they’ll do a better job if there are no secrets.”

  She nodded, and Mike turned to leave, then changed his mind and turned back to address everyone in the room.

  “The Queen has spent the last two years just surviving and getting her fighting forces together. That part’s done now. Like the Phoenix, we’re rising from the ashes. We’re taking this war to the Chessori, and we’ll deal with whatever Rebels we encounter along the way. Your job is to keep the Queen’s forces pointed in the right direction.” He made eye contact with each person in the room, then turned and left.

  Krys stared at the empty doorway, her mind reviewing what she’d heard. She turned to Stven. “What kind of a ship needs eight gunners?”

  “The Queen’s ship, My Lady. She’s given you Resolve.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Krys gathered her crew in a circle on the deck of the exercise room. Everyone sat. To her left was Stven. Tarn sat to her right, and next to him, Borg lay with his head resting on his hands, seemingly half asleep, but she knew her Protector was fully engaged. Not that there was any question of these men. Ellie had Tested each of them before accepting them on her behalf.

  She looked to Tom O’Brien. “You really know how to fly our ships?”

  Stven answered for him. “I’ve been in the net with him, My Lady. He knows. We’ll all have to get some experience with Resolve, including the gunners. He has more experience with fast ships than M’Sada and me. The first leg of our journey will be a shake-down cruise for the crew. We’ll learn to fly together and fight together.”

  “But you’ll be out of the net if the Chessori show up.”

  “We’ll practice all that, don’t worry, and M’Sada and I will help with tactics before any fighting gets started, though I’m told that we might learn more from him than he learns from us. Chandrajuski is highly pleased with the performance of the Terrans.”

  She turned back to O’Brien. “You had to give up a squadron for this. What was your rank? Are you an admiral?”

  “No, I’m a captain, one step below admiral.”

  “How did you get a squadron?”

  “Admiral Trexler looks only at ability, not rank, My Lady. The new rank would have been assigned soon. It won’t now.”

  “Are you okay with this? You’ve given up the rank of admiral, you’ll only have one small ship, and then only if we have to fight the Chessori.”

  “I wasn’t at first, but if what you say is true, that what you do directly impacts Earth’s future, then I definitely want to be a part of your operation. So that there’s no question in anyone’s mind, you should know that there is only one captain, and that’s Stven, not me. I’ll do whatever is needed, from flying the ship to cleaning toilets.”

  “Thank you, Tom.”

  “Big battles are brewing,” he added, “and we all expected to be a part of them. This mission takes us away from them, and quite frankly, with your being a Knight and all, I had envisioned you as older, someone born to the position, someone high in the hierarchy of the Empire, someone who would look down on us. I don’t sense that from you, but I do sense your need of us and the importance of your mission. None of us likes being pulled from the battles that are shaping up. All of us in this room were chosen because we’re as good as they get, and we’ll be missed, but from what you say, your mission will have a lot to do with the main battles. I’m with you, if you’ll have me.”

  Washburn spoke up. “Actually, Tom, this assignment pulled me away from some administrative duties that I won’t miss at all. We brought some 600 Protectors from Brodor. The Queen doesn’t need that many yet. Something’s brewing for later, but it’s going to be a while. Until then, they’re in a training regimen. I won’t miss that.”

  O’Brien’s lips pursed. “We’re still in training, all of us, and we will be for a long time. It sounds like we’re going to a bunch of worlds, all new to us, and we don’t know what it will be like. Personally, I’m looking forward to them, and I know we can deal with the Chessori.”

  Washburn turned to her. “How, exactly, have you had such an impact on the war effort? And how, exactly, does what you’ve learned impact Earth?”

  She turned to Tarn, who nodded his head, then she turned to Stven for guidance.

  He considered, but not for long. “My Lady, when we started out, Chandrajuski gave you the best resources he could, and it was up to us to form ourselves into an invincible shield around you. We were a small crew with no back-up, and our very survival depended on each of us giving all that he is.”

  His purple eyes stared into hers as he recalled the close calls they’d had. “The shield he gave you is no longer enough, My Lady. You need a sword.”

  His long neck swung slowly around the circle, making eye contact with each person in the room. “We’ll soon be on our own again, and our very survival will depend on each of us giving all that he is.”

  His purple eyes went back to her. “The Queen has given you more and better resources, and it’s up to you to form us into that sword. A master craftsman forges his sword, then fires and tempers it to be hard and true. There have been no secrets among our small crew, My Lady, and that was the tempering we needed to make your shield invincible. You now have the makings of a sword. Temper your sword. Make it hard and true.”

  She reached a hand out to touch the scales on the side of his face, her eyes telegraphing the love she felt for him. “You are truly a Rress, my captain. We will temper the sword and
use it wisely.”

  She chose her words with care, looking at each of the men in the circle before she spoke. “You want to know what it is that I do. What I do is see things, things that will happen in the future.”

  Blank looks met her words. Tom O’Brien shifted his position and looked a bit squeamish, so she focused on him.

  “Tom?” she asked.

  He shifted his shoulders again, clearly uncomfortable. “This is getting a little weird, My Lady.” His gaze bored into hers. “Are you saying you’re a prophet or something? I’m not so sure I like the sound of that.”

  “Nor do I. I did not choose this, but I sometimes see things that will take place in the future. Not often, and my skills are weak, but my visions have proven to be accurate. More important, they’ve been useful. The Queen calls me a Seer.”

  “Visions!” Washburn snorted. “Surely you’re joking.”

  “I wish I was. I wish I could be anywhere but in the midst of all this. I’m not a soldier like you, Terry.”

  “Are you saying we’re here because of dreams or something? There’s a war going on out there,” he said pointing his arm to the ceiling. “Surely our leaders are not relying on dreams to guide them.”

  “They’re not dreams,” she said, looking at all the bewildered faces staring at her. “There have been no Seers within living memory of the Empire. So far as we know, besides me there are no others. My visions are of things that will come to pass, sometimes soon, sometimes far in the future. In most cases, I don’t know what the visions mean, but Tarn has an uncanny knack of figuring out exactly what they mean. She turned to him. “Can you help explain?”

  “I’ll tell what I know, My Lady.” He turned to the men. “My first experience with her talent was a vision foretelling my death . . .”

  * * * * *

  When Tarn was done, the men from Earth knew everything he knew. Washburn reciprocated with details about Sir Mike that none in Krys’ crew knew, particularly about how he had saved the Queen, several times.

  “How does all this vision stuff work?” one of the mean called out when the telling was done.

  “I don’t know,” Krys answered, “but in most of them, I have to be in contact with the person to whom the vision applies. That’s why I have to go out on this mission. No one else can do it.”

  “This is really, really hard to believe,” Washburn growled.

  “I know it is,” she replied.

  “So you touch someone, and bing, it’s there?” Sergeant Jacobs asked.

  “Not always. In fact, not very often. I get the feeling that the visions only come for individuals who will play a significant part in what is to come.”

  “Maybe a demonstration is in order,” Tarn said softly.

  Her lips formed into a thin line. “You might be right. The sword must be forged.”

  To the men, she said, “My skills are not great, and there are no other Seers from whom I can learn. The process does not always work.” She looked to Washburn. “You first.”

  “My Lady, your story is as amazing as it is humbling, but I’m not at all comfortable with the idea of prophets and visions and such.”

  “Nor am I. Do you think I chose this path?” she answered angrily. “The Queen named me a Seer many years ago. During most of that time I have, like you, fought against the very concept of what I am, but no longer. I have come to appreciate the value of this gift, a gift that is meant for others, not for me.”

  Washburn stared at the woman before him. Their gazes locked, and he suddenly sensed the depth of her plight, the fear and determination and courage of this young-old woman he had agreed to protect. No further words were exchanged before her eyes closed.

  She settled into her meditation pose, the workout room deathly silent. Most of the original crew had never actually seen her work a vision, so for most, her behavior was strange to say the least. Tarn gave her ten long minutes during which there was not a sound in the room, then he motioned Washburn forward to take her hands.

  His great hands engulfed hers. Nothing happened for a time, then tears began falling from her eyes. When she opened them, she stared into his eyes in horror. She could not bring herself to speak.

  “My Lady?” Tarn asked. She turned to him, and the horror remained. She shook her head, unable to speak. She didn’t know or care that all eyes in the room were on her. Tarn did, but his concern was only for her.

  He took her hands and kissed them. “What did you see, Krys?”

  She closed her eyes again, but the vision filled her mind and her stomach clenched. She couldn’t face it. Her eyes opened again, quickly.

  “I’ll try again later,” she whispered.

  “I know you saw something. Good or bad, your visions have always been important. Tell us what you saw. You must.”

  She lifted her eyes to Washburn, whose great body crouched before her, his large, white eyes staring into hers. “I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching a trembling hand out to touch his face.

  “Sorry for what?” he asked, intrigued.

  “I saw you dead.”

  His eyes continued to stare into hers, but they were suddenly very focused. “I think you’d better explain.”

  “You were lying on the ground. I don’t know where we were. It looked like you’d been shot in the chest by a blaster.”

  He looked away, a hand going to his chest and rubbing. “Dead from a blaster. Not so farfetched, I suppose. Anyone could predict that. What’s this all about?”

  “Wait,” Tarn commanded. “Describe what you saw, Krys. We need the details while they’re fresh in your mind. We can look for meaning later.”

  She closed her eyes, and tears again seeped out between her eyelids as she relived the vision. In a whisper, she said, “He is lying on his back on the ground, it is a hard surface, not dirt or grass. He is dressed in an Empire uniform, a dress uniform, I think. A great, gaping hole is smoking in his chest, and Sergeant Jacobs is leaning over him. There’s nothing he can do.”

  “Is he armed?”

  She considered. “Sergeant Jacobs is. I don’t see another weapon.”

  “Anything else? Can you look around?”

  “I’m afraid to look around,” she answered, her eyes springing open in horror.

  “Go back into it, My Lady. What else can you see?”

  Her eyes closed. “The floor looks like marble. It might be the entrance to a building.”

  “What’s going on here?” Washburn asked in exasperation.

  “Later, sir,” Tarn demanded. He looked around the room at the rest of Washburn’s men. “Assume it’s real. What other questions should I be asking? What details should we be examining?”

  Sergeant Jacobs spoke up. “Is he wearing a vest?”

  “What’s a vest?”

  “A protective armor shield. It can be worn over or under clothing.”

  Krys closed her eyes. “I only see the tattered edges of clothing. They’re blue except where they’re burned.”

  “How many times have I told you, Major . . .” Jacobs shouted, jumping to his feet.

  “I hate those things. They make me look fat.”

  Tarn, too, rose and faced them. “Tell me about the vest.”

  Jacobs passed an angry look to Washburn. “They’re uncomfortable, and they’re hot if it’s a warm day, but they can save your life under certain circumstances, circumstances like what have just been described. They’ll stop a blaster shot from a small weapon. They don’t prevent wounding in all cases, but they can prevent death.”

  Tarn turned from them and knelt down beside Krys. “It’s a warning, don’t you see? Just like the one you gave me. I’m alive because of that warning.”

  Hope filled her eyes. “You’re right! Maybe it is a warning. Maybe we can change the outcome.” She lifted shining eyes to Washburn. “You might want to reconsider your use of the vest, Terry.”

  He frowned. “I hate those things, and I don’t like what I’m hearing here.”

&nbs
p; “Neither do I, but I am the Queen’s Seer,” she said looking into his eyes. “This has been my vision of you. Heed the message, Terry. Wear the vest.”

  She turned her gaze upon each of the Protectors. “This message of warning could be meant for all of you. Wear the vest.”

  Borg spoke. “Hear her well, all of you. She speaks true. Seers are the stuff of legend in our Empire. She’s the only one, and we are better off because of her.”

  She sensed a great discomfort within the room, and she understood its source. Her vision of Terry Washburn could have been constructed by anyone who knew his work.

  “I guess that wasn’t such a great tempering of the sword. I should try again.” She looked to Tom O’Brien. “Will you be next?”

  He nodded grimly. “I’m not a believer, My Lady. You should know that. Try if you will.”

  Tarn gave her time to settle down, and it took quite a while. Her vision of Terry Washburn had deeply affected her. Eventually, Tarn motioned O’Brien forward, and he took her hands. Her eyes remained closed for a time, then she opened them to stare into his eyes.

  “I’m looking through your eyes. You’re in the net, and you’re under attack by Chessori. There are twelve of them in an umbrella pattern arcing around your right side. Your gunners take out two of them, and two more leave the fighting, probably damaged, but your shields are on the verge of failing.”

  “I was starting to like you, but this has gone too far. I could make that up myself. In fact, I’ve been in the same fix in the simulator.”

  “What did you do, sir?” Tarn asked.

  “I micro jumped away, then came back on my own terms.”

  “What would you have done if jumping wasn’t an option?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be an option?”

  Captain Stven interrupted. “Do you want to be the one to give our secret of fast ships to the enemy, Captain? We’re only to display our fast ship capabilities in extremis. Major battles are brewing, and the element of surprise might be the deciding factor in those battles.”