“Can we get closer? Maybe I can point them out as we pass them by.”
“We need to get you to better medical care, and we want to get the hypercom computer to Chandrajuski as soon as possible. It’s three more weeks to Orion III, wasted weeks.”
“Maelia tells me she has things well in hand. I do not need help, but Korban does. We cannot let the sector fall. You know that, and I see them.”
Tarn called Korban again. “We’re continuing inbound. We might be able to identify the traders for you. My question is, should we go fast or slow?”
“I don’t know how long I can hold the blockade. Use your stealth mode and hurry.”
* * * * *
Krys was healing, but she was blind. Even she saw the irony: a Seer who could not see. Maelia was working on restoring her vision, but the short-term prospects for full recovery were not good. It would be a while.
The traders carrying gleasons remained clear in her mind. She had no idea why. Privately, she wondered if her lack of sight was the cause for her improved visions, if this constant state of awareness could be called a vision. It was something she’d never before experienced, and it frightened her. Could this be what life was like for an experienced Seer? Was this what she had to look forward to?
As always, there were no answers to her questions and no one to whom she could turn for guidance.
She and Tarn were having lunch in the crew mess when Akurea came in. She got her own lunch, and Tarn waved for her to join them.
“How’s it going with the hypercom, Commander?”
“Slow. Very slow, Sire.”
Krys turned her head toward Akurea. “Aboard ship, he’s Tarn and I’m Krys.”
“But you’re both Knights of the Realm, My Lady.”
“We’re a crew. It appears that you’ve joined us for a while. It’s Tarn and Krys.”
“Yes, My Lady. I’m Akurea. Are you well?”
“I’m healing. As you can see, I’m blind, but it’s just temporary. My Rider is dealing with it. Did we get the plans?”
“I believe so. I don’t understand the science yet. I’m just about to begin transferring the plans from the Chessori language to our own. It’s going to be a long process, but I might pick up some of the science along the way.”
Krys nodded. “Do you comprehend the critical nature of your work?”
“I do, My Lady. The ability to communicate across the abyss will be a tremendous advantage for the Queen’s forces.”
“An advantage the Rebels already enjoy, but there’s more. Depending on how the transmissions propagate, it might be possible for us to intercept messages from the Rebels and the Chessori, an intelligence gathering tool of the first order.”
“I see what you mean.”
“Your sole focus is to translate those plans, Akurea.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Tom O’Brien came into the mess and joined them.
“Any change, Tom?” Tarn asked.
“Nope. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.” He turned to Krys, though she could not see him. “Do you still see them, Krys?”
She nodded, a grim set to her lips. “I do.”
“See what?” Akurea asked.
Tarn sat back in his chair and stared at her. “Has anyone told you what we’re up to?”
“No one will tell me, Sire, including your incredible AI who has a name. Everyone refers me to Captain Stven who, strangely enough is outranked by Captain O’Brien here. It’s all very confusing.”
“I’ll bet it is. What do you think, Krys?”
“I’m sorry, Akurea, but to know what we are and what we do, you must first be Tested.”
“Tested!”
“Look at your position from our perspective. You could have been planted here by the Rebels.”
“I’ve never gone over, My Lady, and I won’t. I’ve been a spy for so long, I hardly know how to relax anymore.”
“Surely you understand that you will stand before the Queen one day, and soon.”
“I’ve never even imagined meeting her.” She paused, then continued, “Or a Knight, for that matter. I thought I’d drop off a translation and be done with it.”
“It doesn’t work that way around us. With your qualifications, I don’t doubt for a moment that you will head the project to develop our hypercom.”
“My Lady, I’m essentially just a mechanic.”
“A mechanic, an engineer, a spy, a very brave woman who stole the hypercom plans out from beneath the very noses of the Chessori, and the only one in the Empire I am aware of who speaks their language. On top of all that, you’re a leader. It shows, and the Queen will see it.”
“We need scientists and engineers and manufacturing to make it work, My Lady.”
“It’s Krys. And we’ll need someone to organize, train, and lead them. I would suggest that as you work on the translation, you take the long view. Your job is not just to translate, it is to build a functioning unit from scratch, then to bring it into production. I don’t know if it will have any impact on how you go about what you’re doing at the moment, but I ask you to take ownership of the project. Will you?”
“You can just order me, you know.”
“I’d rather ask.”
“You honor me beyond measure, My Lady.”
* * * * *
Resolve made the final jump and began mingling with a large number of traders awaiting approval to land. Complaints were frequent from the traders, but Korban’s ground controllers were adamant in their refusal to allow anyone to land, and many military ships orbited the planet inside the orbits of the traders to enforce the blockade.
Tarn led Krys to the bridge where she attempted to join the net, but again, George could not make the connection. Instead, she had to work through M’Sada who was in the net and doing the driving. She sat in the watch commander’s seat and lifted her arm, pointing to a ship clearly visible in her mind. M’Sada rotated Resolve until her hand pointed dead ahead, and he marked the ship. Stven studied the ship through George’s sensors, but there was nothing remarkable about the trader.
They marked all three traders without having to approach closely and set off alarms. The identities of the ships were forwarded to Korban who assigned a frigate to each target.
Then they withdrew and waited. Two days later, George informed Stven that a large number of Rebel ships were entering the system, all grouped together. Stven contacted Korban on the tight beam.
“We see them,” Korban replied. “I’ve decided to move on the gleasons while there’s time.”
“What if they have Chessori aboard those traders?”
“Waverly left a few guys behind. They’re spread pretty thin, but it’s the best we can do.”
Stven watched as the orbits of three frigates from the military umbrella neared the traders. The timing of each was perfect, with no outward sign that anything was out of the ordinary. Suddenly, all three frigates moved on their targets. Unknown to Stven, who was too far away to sense the scree, a weak scree started up, and the traders left orbit at high speed toward the planet.
The frigates closed and opened fire from a distance, but for some reason they had difficulty staying on their targets. Impressive return fire came from the traders as they deftly maneuvered around the frigates and through the blockade.
“Who’s flying those frigates?” Stven wondered, his anger barely under control.
“Korban mentioned Terrans. Maybe it’s them,” M’Sada answered.
“We’re better than that,” O’Brien objected.
“You are, but are all your guys?”
“Yes.” Then he paused. “Not if they’re ground troops. They must be Waverly’s guys.”
“They are not up against simple traders, Tom. Struthers must have hired smugglers, and I’ll bet there are Chessori aboard.”
Stven objected. “No smuggler would willingly take on a cargo of gleasons, and they’d know they wouldn’t stand a chance against this number of Empire s
hips. Chessori must be driving those ships.”
He called Korban. “They must be using the scree.”
“They are, but it’s weak. Waverly’s guys are not the best pilots. It looks like the traders have gotten past them. Our port defenses are prepared for them, and the frigates will be right behind them as they approach the planet. They have to stop to unload, and we’ll be ready.”
Stven turned to Tarn. “It will take them a couple of hours to reach the surface. If they do, it will be bad, very bad.”
“I know, but we can’t risk further damage to Krys.”
“It’s a weak scree.”
Tarn considered. He didn’t like any of the options, except to leave the system, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Such was not the duty they’d accepted as Empire officers.
“Okay. The gloves are off. Use all of our capabilities, and go for it, Stven, but keep your distance as best you can.”
“Aye, Sire.”
Tom O’Brien took the helm, and Resolve fast-shipped to the first trader in minutes. Stven opened a line to the trader before they felt any affects from the scree. “Come about and surrender,” he demanded. “You will not receive a second warning.”
The trader did not respond. Stven left the net, and O’Brien brought Resolve in to attack. Washburn ordered his gunners to open fire at maximum range. Though the trader was jinking all over the sky, Resolve did not have to do the same since her weapons were far more powerful. Because they had a steady firing platform, normally difficult shots at this extreme range were well aimed, and the trader succumbed fairly quickly.
Just before the ship blew up, a dozen life boats launched from cargo bays. The scree suddenly stopped as the ship disintegrated, and O’Brien moved in on the lifeboats. It would take a while to chase them down, and the other two traders were nearing the planet.
Stven had been forced from the net, but the scree had been weak, and he recovered quickly. “Leave the lifeboats, Tom. Korban will track them and deal with them. We have to go after the other traders.”
Tom fast-shipped to the next trader, and this time he had Washburn hold his fire until they were closer. He didn’t want to give them time to launch the lifeboats, and he didn’t. The trader lasted only moments under the onslaught of Resolve’s guns, and he set out after the last trader. It was brushing the atmosphere as he approached, and this one didn’t wait to be attacked. Dozens of life boats spewed from cargo holds as Washburn’s first shots struck. The ship didn’t last long, but there were a lot of lifeboats to track down.
Stven contacted Korban. “Do you see the lifeboats?”
“We do. We’re tracking, and I’m assigning fighters to each. You might want to get out of their way.”
Tom angled Resolve away from the planet. Moments later, Tarn joined them on the net.
“Krys sees the lifeboats, and she sees something else. She’s ordered us to land at sector headquarters.”
Stven stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“She’s very serious. Do it, Stven.”
Stven issued orders to M’Sada, with the admonition to alert the port defenses to not shoot them down, then he left the net. Washburn was strapping a vest to Krys’ body, and he tossed another to Tarn.
“What’s going on?” Stven demanded.
“Not all the lifeboats will be destroyed, Stven,” Krys answered. “Korban himself is their target, and they’re going to reach him. We’re going to protect him.”
“You’re blind. You can’t even protect yourself.”
“Trust me, Stven. You must. I beg you.” She issued orders to Washburn and Borg. “Leave two Terran gunners on Resolve. Bring all the rest, including the cats, and bring Gordi’i and Kali’i. The gleasons will reach Korban’s outer office. As soon as we’re off, Resolve is to depart.”
Borg growled. “I refuse to let you go, My Lady.”
She turned blind eyes toward the sound of his voice. “I can see them, Borg. I see each of them in my mind. I will be your eyes.”
“I would rather the sector fell.”
“The sector will not fall, Borg. Those are my orders.”
The moment Resolve touched down, Washburn and Jacobs lifted her and hustled her toward the sector headquarters building. Tarn and Stven joined the group of six Great Cats, six Terran Protectors, and the two four-armed gunners. The port defensive guns barked as they targeted incoming life boats, but not all the lifeboats came in on high trajectories. Some came in below the minimum firing angle of the great guns, and several touched down near the sector headquarters building as they hurried to the entrance.
Imperial Marines were ready, and they engulfed each lifeboat in a continuous barrage of fire. The gleasons that made their way through it were all injured and easy to spot.
A Raider lieutenant met them at the entrance with a squad behind him. “I was told to expect you. Who are you?”
“Major Washburn, Delta Force,” Washburn answered without slowing. “Take us to Korban’s office.”
They burst into Korban’s outer office, a large open area midway along an outer wall of the top floor. Washburn’s voice thundered through the room. “Everyone down! Now!”
He turned to Krys. “What now, Krys?”
“Take me to the center of the room,” she demanded. “Give me a weapon. Follow where I aim. I cannot see you, so stay behind me, but back me up.”
Borg spoke. “Where will they enter, My Lady?”
“Everywhere. The doors and the windows.”
“How many?”
“I think . . . eight.”
Borg growled, and his hackles rose. He moved Krys to the center of the room, then spread his men in lines to each side of her, all facing outward. Then they waited.
“Where’s Admiral Korban?” Borg demanded.
A senior officer rose and indicated heavy doors in the wall behind Krys. “He’s in the operations center, sir.”
“Call him and tell him to stay in there with the doors locked. They should be prepared to defend themselves if we fail here. Are they armed?”
“They are, sir.”
Washburn noticed the Raider lieutenant and his squad hunkered down behind desks. “Lieutenant, I want you out of here, now.”
“Sir, we’re pretty good at this.”
“I know you are, but there are too many guns in here. We’re trained to work as a team. Get your guys out, and organize a medical response. We’re going to need it. Move, soldier.”
The building shook, then shook again. “They’re on the roof,” Krys said calmly. “I will fire as soon as I sense them entering. Follow my lead.”
“Sound off,” Borg called out. Each of the Protectors responded with his assigned number. “Pair off,” Borg ordered. “One and two follow her first shot, three and four follow her second shot. We’ll all deal with the remainder of the gleasons as we can. Remember, when seriously wounded, the gleasons will lose their ability to blend with the background, but the creatures are very hard to kill.”
Krys turned suddenly toward a window to her left and opened fire. Two Protectors opened fire toward the window, following her aim. Moments later a shadow filled the window. It fell into the room, its dark green body hideously wounded.
The Protectors continued to fire at it as Krys turned toward a corridor entrance on her right. She fired again, and backup fire wounded the gleason, but it didn’t stop moving. She didn’t know, and the Protectors kept up a continuous barrage toward the creature.
She turned and fired again, straight ahead, then again to the left, standing straight up so as not to hit her own men whom she could not see. Another gleason came through the corridor entrance to her right at the same moment another came through a window directly in front of her. She loosed two shots at the first gleason, but was late shifting to the second. Borg saw the window shatter and pushed her to the floor as he leaped in front of her, firing continuously. Tarn fell on her to protect her. Borg wounded the creature, but it closed the distance instantly
and was upon him. Borg grabbed the gleason’s head as it forced both of them to the floor, and his great hands twisted mightily, killing the creature.
Stven saw the another window shatter, but the gleason was invisible. He didn’t think, he just gave way to his instincts. He sucked in a breath, then a great flame issued from his nostrils as he swept his head around the room above everyone’s head. The flames caught the gleason, and Stven leaped toward it. As the flames guttered out, he grabbed the gleason, his sharp claws digging deep into its body. He and the gleason disappeared out the window.
Blasters continued barking for a few seconds, then stopped. Washburn leaped to Krys and pulled Tarn from atop her. “Are there any more?” he demanded.
She considered, then shook her head. “No more.”
“Clear!” Washburn yelled, “but stay ready. She might have missed some.” His eyes surveyed the room, but it took a while for the heavy smoke from Stven to thin. Borg rose weakly to his feet, bleeding profusely from great gashes along his body, then collapsed.
“Jacobs!” Washburn yelled.
Jacobs took one look at Borg and called two Great Cats to his side. “Direct pressure, wrap him tightly, but not so tightly he can’t breathe.” He tossed packages of bandages and gauze to the two cats, then turned to Tarn. Rib bones protruded through a gash in his back. Scissors appeared in Jacobs’ hand, and he quickly cut the uniform away.
He looked up at Washburn. “Not good, sir. It’s deep. He’s bleeding heavily inside. It probably got his liver and a kidney, and certainly a lung. He’s going to drown in his own blood. I can’t stop it. He needs immediate surgery.” He reached into his pack for an airway, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“Who is it?” Krys asked in a frightened voice.
Washburn knelt down beside her. “I’m sorry, Krys. It’s Tarn.”
Blank eyes stared back at him in horror. “Tarn! What’s he doing here?”
“Protecting you, Krys.”
Across the room, a gleason twitched and a shot sounded. Krys’ mind stopped functioning, but her Rider’s mind did not.
Knights of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book Two) Page 52