"Knights of the Chosen" - читать интересную книгу автора (White Lawrence P)

Chapter Ten

“No Chessori,” Stven muttered to himself as Rappor’s screens filled. The great, purple dragon felt a puff of noxious gas coming on, but he swallowed it. His pilot, M’Sada, simply could not suffer the pain it caused him. “That’s a bit unusual.”

“Thanks for swallowing, Captain. It’s not the normal pattern, I agree.” M’Sada’s two upper hands, almost never still, finished preening his whiskers and moved on to his two long antennae. His remaining eight short legs jerked from time to time as his conscious mind, mostly disconnected from his body, roamed the net. “I’ll keep an eye out, though. They seem to find us no matter where we go.”

Sangia IV lay three weeks ahead. It would be their twelfth stop on this remarkable, clandestine voyage, a voyage that had been immensely successful. Stven had changed the ship’s beacon code after each stop, something completely illegal and unknown within the rest of the Empire, and it seemed to be helping, but a pattern had emerged: inbound legs to each world had been free of threat, but somehow the Chessori were always on their tail when they left, regardless of how careful they’d been during meetings. Early jumps were dangerous, and he fretted. He couldn’t keep it up forever without risking the ship, but there was no ready alternative.

Stven had made a number of changes to crew assignments over the many months they’d been together. Knowing that a confrontation with the Chessori was inevitable, he’d decided to train the Great Cats to fly the ship. They already had the basics, but he wanted them to use the full capabilities of the net. That meant the rest of the crew was out of the net, but that was okay if it kept them alive.

The skills of the Great Cats grew logarithmically with access to the net. No longer did they operate guns manually. They had the full benefit of targeting data, tracking, and communication with their captain, the Great Cat Borg. Gordi’i and Kali’i, Rappor’s gunners, had the AI throw everything at them that it could, and the cats’ performance now was second to no one within the fleet.

Gortlan, the engineer, trained Tarn in the process of changing the beacon code of Rappor. While they worked on that, Stven and M’Sada improved their own skills of keeping the net alive without an AI. The AI had to be completely shut down when changing the beacon, and the two on the bridge had their hands full managing the ship without its assistance. Krys was brought in to help, and though her mechanical skills were not good, she could alert them to problems as she prowled the ship through the net.

Stven was confident that each position now had at least one backup, and the Great Cats would take over completely if they encountered the Chessori mind weapon.

Rappor landed at the civilian port on Sangia IV, and Stven went by himself to the operations office to log in his arrival.

“I’ll need a complete manifest,” the agent told him.

“You need what?”

“A complete manifest. New procedures,” the creature told him, “and I’ll need to log in your captain’s certificate.”

Stven hesitated, then listed fictitious names for Krys and Tarn. Since at least one Great Cat would have to accompany Krys to any meetings she set up, he simply listed Great Cat instead of a name.

“Their kind are not allowed here anymore,” the creature said as he examined the document. “He will have to remain aboard.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Stven said angrily. A small puff escaped from one nostril, but he did not apologize. “My passenger is a wealthy socialite. Her father will fire me if I let her out without protection.”

“I’ll put you in touch with a protection service. Their fees are substantial, but they’re good.”

“I think I’ll bring the cat instead.”

The creature looked at him closely. “I don’t recommend it, Captain. It won’t make it past the perimeter of the port alive.”

“Who’s going to stop a Great Cat?”

The creature lowered its voice. “I don’t like it either, but that’s the way it is. Look around on your way back to the ship. The port is well-defended.”

“Look, her father is a friend of Admiral Stebbenz. Are you going to buck his authority when she calls him?”

“Stebbenz is dead. His replacement instigated the new rules. Sorry.”

The man’s communicator buzzed. He took the call, then looked askance at Stven. “It appears there’s some irregularity with your certificate. Please proceed through the door over there,” he said, pointing down a long corridor.

“Hmm. I think I’ll wait on my ship. If someone has questions, they can find me there.”

He turned and left, his communicator to his mouth the moment he went through the outer doors. “Trouble, M’Sada. Get ready for an immediate departure, and do not ask the port for permission.”

He hurried across the tarmac, but it was a long way to go. Before he’d gone far, several vehicles with armed police came around the terminal building and headed in his direction. The moment they did, two Great Cats descended the ramp at a dead run toward Stven, weapons belts strapped to their bodies. Stven made a quick decision and unfolded his wings, took several running steps, and lifted a few feet into the air. Dragons were not fast, but they were faster in the air than on foot. He was half way to the ship when the port guards opened fire, and one of his wings was hit. He went down, stumbling as his four massive legs took the shock, then he was up and galloping for all he was worth.

Return fire came from the ramp. To his surprise, it was Gordi’i and Kali’i, each aiming two long-barreled blasters from semi-exposed positions at the top of the ramp. All three vehicles were damaged in the space of a few heartbeats, and the police were forced to continue on foot. With a second look at the Great Cats, though, they turned back and took defensive positions behind their smoking vehicles.

Weapons appeared in the hands of the Great Cats, and they opened fire on the vehicles, forcing the guards to keep their heads down. The primary focus of the guards was the cats, but Stven was hit again just as he reached the ramp, the shot ricocheting from the scales on the top of his head to detonate against the ramp. He went down, out cold.

Moving an unconscious dragon was not an easy thing to do. Gordi’i and Kali’i each raced to his side, but they could not budge him. The cats were returning to the ship, each covering the other as they retreated, when two stingers headed their way from the terminal building. Resembling small tanks, the handheld weapons of the cats would be useless against the stingers.

The top turret on the ship opened up, fired twice, and both stingers exploded. The guns traversed to the damaged cars, and the police hiding behind them gave up the fight, running for the protection of the building. The cats joined Gordi’i and Kali’i and managed to haul Stvens’ body onto the ramp. The moment the ramp closed, the ship lifted.

M’Sada and Tarn were in the net, and they were soon joined by Krys. She took the bottom battery of two guns, while Tarn stayed with the top battery. The moment they were away from the port, M’Sada angled the ship toward space.

“Two Empire fighters just lifted from the military port,” Tarn said, almost casually.

“They’ll have a slight speed advantage,” M’Sada answered, as they left the planet behind.

The two fighters gradually closed the gap. “They’re holding position, and they’re holding fire, but they’re in range,” Tarn said. “Our aft shields are full up. Permission to fire?”

M’Sada, busy with flying the ship, thought hard. The trailing fighters were within range, but they weren’t firing. Why not? His upper hands began a rapid preening of his two long antennae as he considered. A couple of answers came to him immediately: either there were other ships ahead that would do the job, or these two wanted to get farther from the planet before firing.

A chill suddenly ran through his body, and the preening stopped. There definitely were ships ahead of him, but they were a long way out. There was only one reason he could think of that would cause the ships behind him to delay firing. They would be using a weapon they did not want the people on the planet to know about, and there was only one weapon he knew of that fit that description: the Chessori mind weapon.

“Cats to the bridge,” he ordered over the communicator. “Crew, standby to disconnect from the net.”

The moment the cats arrived, M’Sada briefed them, then handed the net over to them. Borg was captain, and Kross and Trist each manned a gun battery. The changeover wasn’t a moment too soon. One moment M’Sada was staring at the screens on the bridge, and the next he was rolling across the floor in agony. So, too, were Tarn and Krys.

Borg was cagey. He left the ship on its original trajectory, making it act as if no one was at the controls. The two fighters approached without even putting up their shields, and Kross and Trist opened fire simultaneously, destroying both ships. The mind weapon stopped, and M’Sada and Tarn slowly came to their senses. Krys did not.

M’Sada staggered back into the net, replacing the cats with himself, Kali’i, and Gordi’i. Tarn took one look at Krys and immediately went to her. She was unconscious, her breathing irregular. “She’s in trouble,” he shouted to M’Sada. “I’m off to sick bay.”

“She comes first, Tarn. We’ll mind the ship.”

Tarn picked up Krys’ slim body as if it was a feather and hurried to sick bay. He placed her in an analyzer, then pulled the cover closed. It took a while, and he didn’t understand all the details of the findings, but he understood enough to know that she had some bleeding in her brain. The readings were amber on the screen, indicating only mild concern. Chemicals were administered automatically, and there was nothing further for him to do.

Kross and Trist showed up dragging an unconscious Stven between the two of them. There was just no way they could lift him to a bed or a table. Tarn grabbed a portable analyzer and was in the process of running it over the great body of the dragon when Stven groaned. He came to swiftly and lurched to his feet.

“Ouch!” he said, glaring at everyone. “That hurt.”

“Hey, you okay, Captain?” Tarn asked, concern etched on his face.

“Yea. Just a headache. He extended a wing, careful to avoid hitting anyone, and groaned at what he saw. A wing rib had been shattered. “I won’t be doing any flying for a while. What’s going on?”

“If you’re up to it, you’d better get up to the bridge. We’re in big trouble. Krys is hurt, but I think she’ll be okay.”

The dragon peered at the readout on the analyzer, and a puff escaped from each nostril. “What happened?”

“The Chessori are what happened. Their mind weapon seems to have affected her more than the rest of us. I’ll keep an eye on her. Call me if I’m needed.”

Stven left sickbay dragging a wing. He’d fix it later, if there was a later. He entered the net, but his thoughts were still a little muddled, so he just observed. A full squadron had just come around the planet and was headed their way, but it was a long way away. Two more squadrons, both far out in the system, were headed their way, as well, but they, too, were far off. M’Sada was busy computing the best escape trajectory. Solution after solution appeared, he selected one, then set the ship on its new course.

“It’s not the solution that gives us the most time,” Stven said softly.

“I know. We’re going to have to do it again, jump early. I’ve chosen a course that’s taking us as far below the plane of the ecliptic as I can get us. Are you okay with that? And don’t go getting all puffy on me.”

“I won’t. It’s a good choice. Looks like we have four or five days before we jump.”

“Depends on the range of the Chessori mind weapon, my friend.”

“Those are Empire ships.”

“So were the two fighters that Borg and Trist took out right after we left the planet. Chessori were flying them.”

A deep silence filled the net for a time. “Does that mean what I think it means?” Stven asked.

“Hold your breath, buddy. It can only mean one thing.”

“Surely there aren’t enough Chessori to fill out a squadron.”

“There doesn’t have to be. Who’s going to fight back?”

“But what about the other crewmembers? Surely they won’t put up with the pain and suffering?”

“Would you, if it meant you lived?”

Stven studied the squadrons in the display, his thoughts not on the Chessori but on the unlucky crewmembers who were with them. How had the Rebels convinced them to stay with their ships? Surely, they’d jump ship at the first port of opportunity. Then he wondered… were these ships allowed into port?

“This is big trouble, my friend. Seeton and Buskin can’t fight these guys.”

“Not without a lot of Great Cats, they can’t. And consider this: it wouldn’t take very many Chessori to man the guns of a squadron during a fight. They wouldn’t have to cook or clean or repair, they’d just have to have a pilot and some gunners. They wouldn’t be very effective, but they wouldn’t have to be if their targets were incapacitated. They could take them out at their leisure, just as you saw them do at Dorwall.”

Stven barely caught the puff before it left his nostril. He sucked it in and swallowed, then let his digestive system deal with it. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but it worked in a pinch. “So a few Great Cats might hold their own against them.”

“Exactly. We need to get the word out.”

“To whom?”

“To someone who can spread it for us. We can’t be everywhere.”

“Seeton or Buskin.”

“Or both. Who’s closest?”

Stven considered. “We don’t know where Buskin is, but he gave us coordinates for a ship that will know, and he won’t be far from there. If we go to Seeton, it’ll take an extra three weeks of in-system travel. Let’s find Buskin.”

Borg and his partners stayed near the bridge as the trailing squadron neared. Stven needed to get as far beneath the system as he could before jumping. He waited until the approaching ships were half a day away, then M’Sada jumped. He laboriously executed one more jump while the AI was down for a beacon change, then they headed toward the rendezvous with Buskin.

Krys was up in a few days, dealing with a headache and blurred vision, but nothing worse. Her healing would continue at its own pace now without stimulants or medicines. She resumed her meditations and a limited exercise regimen, with Tarn always in attendance to keep a close eye on her.

No one needed to state the obvious: something in Krys was more sensitive to the Chessori mind weapon than it was in the others. She suffered physical damage while they just suffered pain. Had it affected her Seer abilities? No one knew.

The rendezvous point was deep in interstellar space, so they were able to jump to it without the three week delay of transiting a planetary system. When they arrived, a full, heavy squadron filled their screens. When challenged, Stven gave the password. The proper password was received in response, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“We need to see your boss,” Stven said. “Can you give me the coordinates?”

“Sorry, but it’s not our way. Who are you, and why are you here?”

“Our true identity is Rappor. Is that adequate identification?”

“It is. We’ll take you aboard and supply a pilot.”

Stven and M’Sada looked at each other in surprise. “I hate to give up control of the ship,” Stven said, “but from their perspective, it’s a good plan.”

They went aboard the cruiser and were met by a Commodore Gzant. A pilot was waiting with Gzant.

“Do you bring news?” the commodore asked.

“We do. Your welcoming procedures are going to have to change,” Stven said.

Stven, accompanied by Kross, followed the commodore to his office. “What’s up?” the commodore asked when they were seated.

“We have reason to believe the Chessori are aboard some Empire ships. Well… I guess I’d have to call them Rebel ships, now. Are you familiar with the Chessori mind weapon?”

“I’ve been briefed.”

“We don’t know how strong it is or what its range is, but if a single Chessori gets aboard your ship, you will have lost your command.”

“Hmm. I see what you mean. We’re going to have to inspect every ship. That’s a tall order.”

“You have no choice, sir, and you’ll have to stand well off while you do it.”

“Agreed. I’ll need Imperial Marines. Will you inform Admiral Buskin for me? I’d like to stay on station here if possible.”

“I will. Are you receiving many recruits?”

“I’ll leave that to him to explain. Fair enough?”

“It is, sir. We’ll be on our way.”

Rappor’s crew remained out of the net. Only the pilot provided by Gzant knew where they were going, and it wasn’t far. One short jump brought them to the rendezvous point. The pilot was considerate enough to activate the screens on the bridge, and the view they beheld was surprising. Some three hundred ships occupied a position deep in interstellar space.

Buskin met them when they came aboard his cruiser, and he led Krys, Tarn, Stven, M’Sada, and the three Great Cats to his office. “What news do you bring?” he asked without delay.

“It’s not good, sir. We were attacked by Empire ships that were flown by Chessori,” Stven informed him.

Buskin scratched his chin. “I just learned of that possibility myself.”

“You’re going to have to change procedures at the rendezvous point, sir.”

“I know. We’re briefing Imperial Marines as we speak. They’ll inspect each ship before we let them come here. Consider it done, my friends.” He turned to Krys. “Have your visits been successful?”

“Mostly. You can take Sangia Sector off your list. Admiral Stebbenz is dead, and the Rebels have taken over.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. I, too, have news. I just received a visit from Governor Veswicki. The Queen is alive and well.”

“She’s there?” Krys asked, rising to her feet.

“No. Her whereabouts are a secret. Veswicki received a visit from Chandrajuski and two Knights. They’ve been with her.”

Low growls of satisfaction came from the Great Cats. Krys beamed as she turned to Tarn. No words were needed as similar thoughts passed between them. Another of her visions had come true.

“So what happens now?” she asked, turning back to Buskin.

“No changes at present. I’m to continue spreading the word and accepting recruits. I received no instructions concerning you.”

“It looks like you’ve been successful,” M’Sada interjected.

Buskin turned a grim expression on him. “The ships here represent failure, Lieutenant. Each one of them is from a sector or district headquarters that has fallen to the Rebels. My forces are, indeed, expanding, but the Queen’s are not.”

M’Sada’s upper hands began preening the whiskers on his face. “Understood, sir.”

“There’ll be more. I’ll soon begin setting up additional locations for them to gather and train. I have more senior admirals than I know what to do with.”

“Have my brothers come?” Borg asked.

“Some. Not enough, now that we know we might have to fight military ships. Chessori traders are one thing, but military ships seriously add to the difficulties.”

“We’ve set a new process in place aboard Rappor, sir. Our net is given to the three Great Cats when we’re threatened by the Chessori.”

“We’re working on a similar arrangement. It’s the only way I can think of to deal with Chessori ships. Now that Rebel ships are manned by Chessori, I’m going to need a lot of your brothers,” he said to Borg. “We’ve only received two hundred so far.”

“How many more do you need?”

“Thousands if we’re to be effective.”

“Perhaps a personal visit to Brodor by Krys would be appropriate.”

Buskin looked to Krys. “We need you out there spreading the word, but he’s right. We desperately need more cats.”

“I’ll go. It won’t take long.”

“Why don’t we both go,” Buskin said. “ Rappor can stay aboard, and you can enjoy a little break from routine. A visit by me is overdue anyway. I need to arrange a better meeting process with the Great Cats. Right now, the messengers from Brodor send all their recruits back to Brodor and we pick them up there. We need to expand the program to reduce travel times.”

“Senator Truax has a similar problem,” Krys stated. “He’s decided to network his contacts. Have you considered stopping recruitment for a little while? The Great Cats, rather than going to Brodor, could fan out and spread the word. It wouldn’t take as long to reach more cats that way.”

Buskin nodded his head. “And we could establish more rendezvous points. Why have them travel all the way back to Brodor? There aren’t a lot of ships going that way, and the delays are unacceptable. Give me a few minutes to brief a temporary commander, and we’ll get underway. The rest of my fleet will stay here.”

“Would it be possible for me to meet with my brothers?” Borg asked. “I have personally experienced the Chessori mind weapon, and they should know what to expect.”

“By all means. I’ll prepare a shuttle. They’re all training aboard Brigand.”

Borg got up and left without delay. Buskin ordered an aide to get the rest of them settled into temporary quarters, and he gave instructions for his techs to give Rappor a thorough inspection.

Tarn led Krys away from the group. “I’ll get you settled while you’re in sick bay,” he informed her. “You’re going to have a thorough check-up by a real doctor.”

She didn’t argue. She, too, was concerned about any lasting effects from the Chessori mind weapon. A female doctor heard their story, then she shooed Tarn out. Krys spent the rest of the afternoon in sick bay. The doctor determined that minor healing was still taking place, but she could detect no lasting problems.

“You might not be so fortunate next time,” she cautioned Krys. “Another attack, or a stronger, longer lasting attack, might kill you.” She thought for a time. “I wonder if there’s any way to shield you?”

“There’s none that I know of. We don’t have a lot of experience with the weapon. All we know is that its range is not unlimited.”

“Hmm. I wonder if a fluid would weaken it?”

“Ma’am?”

“I think we’ll see about installing a tank on your ship, one that includes breathing apparatus. If you were completely submerged during an attack, its effects might be weakened. At the very least, the tank would assist with immediate healing. They’re quite remarkable for serious injuries.”

“You want me to hide out while my crew is in danger?” Krys asked in disbelief.

“No, I want you to survive. You’re no help during an attack, and your crew might need your help afterwards. Have any of them noted any physical difficulties after an attack?”

“None that I’ve seen.”

“Then one tank will be sufficient. I’ll arrange for some training. It could be helpful under other circumstances as well, if anyone gets injured in some other manner.”

“Does it work for non-humans?”

“For some. Are others injured?”

“My captain is a Rress. His wing took a blaster shot. He’s acting like it’s not a big thing, but I’d feel better if you looked at it, Ma’am.”

Admiral Buskin approved the installation of the tank, and technicians swarmed over Rappor. The largest tank that would fit into the room was installed. It would even hold Stven in a pinch, but more important, it would provide the most shielding possible to Krys, assuming the medical fluids would provide any shielding at all.

Krys, Tarn, Stven, and M’Sada met with Buskin a few days later to compare notes and make necessary adjustments to their plans. He had sent out large numbers of couriers, and while many had been successful, recent visits by some had gone much the same way Krys’ last visit to Sangia Sector had gone. The Rebels were moving quickly, and Buskin believed most senior sector commanders that could be reached had been reached.

“If you’re sending out that many, am I now free to focus on finding the Queen?” Kris asked.

Buskin looked at her kindly. “You’ve always been free to do as you choose. You set the process in motion, and everything my men and I have done is a result of the power of your message. That hasn’t changed. I report to Chandrajuski, let there be no question of that, but until the visit from Veswicki, I’ve thought of us as Krys’ fleet. I still do,” he added, peering carefully into her eyes. “I hope you don’t abandon us.”

Tarn grinned, and M’Sada’s preening became more rapid. Stven narrowly avoided releasing a puff. “Thank you, sir,” she said, clearly uncertain of herself. “I will not abandon you, though I will do the Queen’s bidding. What are you going to do with my fleet?”

“Until called, I’ll keep building, keep waiting, train the cats, and keep my men sharp. That’s not an easy task out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“It sounds miserable. How long can you wait?”

“As long as it takes. I’ve got some excellent contacts at district levels who keep me supplied. I may have to start rotating my men through for shore leave, but we can handle another year, at least. It’s not your problem,” he said with a smile. “We’re going to focus on districts next,” he said. “The Rebels will need a lot of manpower to bring the districts under their control, and it will take a long time. There are thousands of districts, and they will be fertile recruitment grounds for us, I’m certain.”

Krys looked worried. “They don’t have the resources of the sector headquarters.”

“Not so, Krys. In many ways, they are the resources of the sector commanders. Districts don’t have control of large fleets, but they do command squadrons, many, many squadrons, and some of those squadron commanders are going to be loyal to the Queen when they find out about her existence. I’m sending lots and lots of fighters out to as many districts as I can to spread the word. I expect more success at the district level than at the sector level, and remember… every squadron we keep from Struthers is one more squadron for the Queen and one less for him. Equally important, if we get bogged down and can’t win at the top, we’ll have to do it district by district. The more of them we have under our wings, the faster it will go.”

“So we need to prepare new lists?”

“We do. The list of sector commanders is nearly exhausted. Chandrajuski will follow up with the ones we’ve brought back into the fold. Our job is to keep searching for new ones to add to his list. It’s dangerous, but necessary.”

“What’s Governor Veswicki doing?”

“For the moment, he’s consolidating what he has. He’s promised to have ten sectors behind him soon. He’s waiting to make his move until Chandrajuski gives the okay. As you know, the Chessori issue has significantly muddied the waters.”

“Are we all competing for the Great Cats, then?”

Buskin rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. Veswicki hinted at another plan. The First Knight apparently has something in mind, but he’s not ready to discuss it. Until someone comes up with a better plan, I’ll take all the Great Cats I can get.”

“It’s asking a lot of the cats.”

“It is, and even with them, it’s far from ideal. We haven’t been able to test them under battle conditions, but we’re expecting a significant reduction in abilities. The fact that they function at all is our only hope at the moment.”

“The mind weapon is a truly horrible thing. My Protectors struggled mightily to keep going.”

“But they were effective?”

Stven lifted his head. “It’s more like the Chessori were ineffective, sir. Borg chose not to maneuver on the two Chessori. He acted, instead, as if the ship suddenly ceased functioning, as it would have under the influence of the mind weapon. The Chessori approached unshielded, certain of victory. It really wasn’t much of a fight.”

“Hmm. I’ll bet that’s one of the things he discussed in his meeting with his brothers. It’s a good strategy, at least at the start of a battle.”

“But only for a little while,” M’Sada interjected. “If ships manned by Chessori outnumber ships manned by the cats, they could have a real problem on their hands when they merge.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to model things, test them out, and let the cats learn how close they can let their opponents get.”

“Can you do that without the influence of the mind weapon?”

“We can approximate it. We can dial down the effectiveness of the cats’ weapons and find out what works best.”

“If they’re up against Chessori ships, those ships will not be limited in any way. If they’re up against Rebel ships with partial Chessori crews, there could be a huge degradation on the side of the attackers.”

“Exactly, and each situation will have different tactics. Your own encounter with the Chessori suggests something else to me. They approached with high confidence. That might well be a natural trait. If they’ve had this mind weapon for long, it might have become their primary weapon, one they expect to see work in every situation. If so, at least in the early stages of a battle, that would be in our favor. We’re going to reconsider how we position our forces at the beginning.”

“Are there reports of anyone going up against a Chessori ship?” M’Sada asked, his upper hands preening.

“Other than your own and a number of encounters by the Queen, there are none that I know about, at least none that survived.”

“If they rely on this mind weapon, I wonder how good their weapons and shields are?”

“Hmm. Good point. I have a feeling we’re going to find out – the hard way.”

Krys and Tarn remained behind when the meeting ended. “I have a personal request, sir, if you can spare a little time,” she said.

“What can I do for you?”

“I was injured during the Chessori attack on Rappor. ”

“I know. I wish you’d told me. Doctor Qrondra believes you’re recovering nicely.”

“I feel fine, but I have not attempted a vision since the attack. Are you willing to allow an attempt with you?”

Buskin didn’t hesitate. “I’d be honored.”

“If it doesn’t work, I’d like to keep it private for the present.”

“I understand. You might not be completely yourself yet.”

Krys took her seat with a hesitant smile at Tarn. His heart went out to her, but in this area, he could not help. He gave her ten minutes to sink fully into her meditative state, then he asked Buskin to take her hand.

Buskin leaned down and took both of her hands in his. There was no change visible on Krys’ countenance, but a few moments later she opened her eyes to stare worriedly into his eyes.

Her gaze went to Tarn, then back to Buskin who still held her hands. “Thank you, Admiral. I’m back in business.”

He let go of her hands and backed away. “What did you see?”

“I appeared to be looking through your eyes. I think you must have been out in space and in the net because I could see in all directions. Behind you, a blue and white planet was receding. One gray moon hung off to the side. In front of you, far in the distance, an array of many, many ships approached. That’s all I saw.”

“Whose ships?”

“I don’t know.”

Tarn asked softly, “What color were they?”

“Bright blue.”

Tarn and Buskin looked at each other. “Chessori appear in bright blue, sir,” Tarn said.

Buskin nodded, his expression grim as he looked at Krys. “How many were there?”

“Many. Maybe a thousand. The vision was accompanied with words, as some are.” She closed her eyes and said,

“Follow, or lead? Where once it was dirt, a King’s tears now fall through spread fingers. The battle is won, the war lost.”

Buskin’s focus went internal as he considered the words. So, too, did Tarn’s. Buskin spoke first. “We’re going to lose?” he breathed.

Krys spoke softly, not wanting to disturb Tarn who was seated nearby and thinking hard. “The words must be considered in full, sir. When words accompany a vision, they are always in the form of a riddle. Taken in pieces, the words can be misleading. Tarn has had some success with deciphering the riddles.”

She and Buskin waited for Tarn to open his eyes. When he did, he looked unhappy.

“I don’t sense the pattern this time, Krys. Some of it is obvious, but key parts are not, and those parts could entirely change the meaning of the riddle.” His gaze moved to Buskin. “Her visions seem to apply to the one who touches her. Most likely, she has seen something in your future.”

“That much I understood,” Buskin said dryly.

“Follow or lead? That could have several meanings.” He looked at Krys. “Did you get a sense of their meaning?”

“It seemed like a choice must be made.”

Tarn nodded and looked to Buskin. “It could mean you’ve received orders from someone above you that you might have to disobey.”

Buskin frowned. “My sense, as well. I hope it’s not so.”

“It’s the second part that makes no sense to me, sir. Since Daughter is Queen, her husband, Jornell, is King.”

“Not so, Lieutenant. Jornell is dead.”

Krys sucked in a breath, her thoughts on the Queen. “She has a daughter, doesn’t she?”

“She does.”

Tarn frowned. “If we don’t have a king, who’s king is it? We’ve seen the word ‘dirt’ in several of your visions, Krys. It has always referred to a certain individual. We don’t know who he is. Could he be a king?”

Krys shook her head. “We don’t know anything about him. I’ve never sensed he was a king, but I suppose it’s possible. I have no idea what he’s crying about.”

“Nor do I,” Tarn replied. “The rest of the words are well understood by everyone in this room, but what battle, and what war? Is it our war, or is it this king’s war?” He looked to Buskin. “Any idea, sir?”

“No, but your reasoning is helpful. Seen through your eyes, I sense something strongly from the message, and I do believe it is a message.”

“I do, as well, sir, and the vision of a thousand ships is part of it. I believe there is a great battle in your future. I’m concerned about this king’s tears. When I look at the pattern of Krys’ visions, all of them have been of something that was yet to happen, but in every case of which I’m aware, they applied to our war against the Rebels and Chessori. I believe that whatever this king is crying about pertains to us, the Queen, and our own war. In this particular case, I sense a warning more than I sense a done deal.” He looked at Krys. “What is your sense, My Lady?”

“I, too, sense a warning. We’ve spoken of changing the outcome of visions, and this might be a case of doing just that. We were successful once.”

Tarn pursed his lips and nodded. Buskin sat down deep in thought. When he lifted his eyes to them, he said, “It appears, when taken as a whole, that I will have to make a choice, perhaps disobey an order, and if I choose wrong we’ll lose the war. Any idea when this will happen?”

Krys shook her head. “I do not sense imminence. I don’t mean to sound melodramatic, but it’s possible that the fate of the Empire rests on your shoulders.”

When Buskin’s squadron exited hyperspace, only a few civilian traders showed on the screens. Brodor lay some three weeks ahead. Admiral Buskin identified himself and was told to continue inbound but to expect visitors. A ship left the planet soon after. A week and a half later, it was inspected, then invited aboard. Buskin, Krys, and her three Protectors waited on the hangar deck as the ramp descended.

Three Great Cats padded down the ramp, Otis in the lead. Krys shrieked and ran to him, wrapping her arms around the fur of his neck. He suffered her ministrations, though he, too, seemed pleased. A look of sheer happiness filled her eyes as she stepped back from him.

“Welcome to Brodor, Krys,” he stated solemnly.

“It’s so good to see you, old friend.”

“It’s good to see you. I wish the circumstances were different. You are… older.”

“So are you. Is she here?”

“No.”

“I’ve never known you to be away from her.”

“I was wounded. I’m not yet back to my old self. Your brother is well, by the way.”

She grinned. “He’s a Knight now, isn’t he.”

Otis nodded. “He’s wearing Sir Jarl’s pins.”

“Oh, I wish I could have been there. It must have been special.”

“It was. Will you make the introductions?”

Buskin led the small delegation to his conference room. They got down to business immediately.

“I need more Great Cats, Sire,” Buskin began.

“I just arrived back on Brodor, only to find that you’ve absconded with quite a few of my brothers already. What, exactly, are you doing with them?”

“Training them on the net, Sire. They’re the only known tool we have against the Chessori.”

“I’ve been under the influence of this mind weapon many times. It’s not an easy thing to deal with. You expect them to fight and fly at the same time? Finesse is not possible while functioning under the strain of the mind weapon.”

Borg spoke. “I have fought and won in spite of it.”

“How many times, and against how many?”

“Once. We took out two Empire fighters crewed by Chessori. A bit of subterfuge helped, Sire. Kross, too, took out a Chessori trader while piloting a frigate. Sheeb did the shooting.”

Otis nodded. He turned back to Buskin. “How many do you need?”

“As many as you can send, Sire. So far I have twenty-three squadrons to man, and I expect more, many more.”

Otis looked from Buskin to Krys. “You’ve been busy, more busy than I knew. Does Chandrajuski know?”

Buskin answered. “If he doesn’t yet, he will soon. I recently spoke with Governor Veswicki. Chandrajuski can plan for a thousand ships at the rate we’re going.”

“A thousand!” Otis padded across the room, then turned back to Buskin. “The Queen has about 40 at the moment.”

Buskin’s eyebrows rose. “Perhaps I should go to her.”

Otis considered. “No, Veswicki will supply more, and she’s well hidden. I like your plan, and I like the idea of a reserve force. It’s going to take time to gather my brothers together and train them.”

“It is, Sire. I’d like to suggest that instead of sending Great Cats to me, send them after more Great Cats. Build a network, then deliver.”

Otis shook his head. “Had I known of your needs, it would already be in place. I’ll get started immediately.”

“Sire, I don’t necessarily need fully qualified Guardians. I need bodies that can function under the mind weapon. I’ll train anyone you send.”

“You’re running a school out there, wherever ‘there’ is?”

“I’m doing whatever it takes, Sire.”

“It takes a certain… hardness… to function against the scree. Our young ones might not be up to it. I’ll take it under consideration. What else is on your agenda?”

“That’s all I came here to do. We need to work out rendezvous points and passwords, that’s all.”

“It’s not all. There are other developments of which you should be aware. You must visit Chandrajuski personally, and perhaps the Queen, as well. A force the size of yours cannot hide out in obscurity forever – you should be part of whatever plans are being developed.”

He padded away from Buskin for a moment, then turned back to face him, peering hard into his eyes. “You bring great honor to your uniform, Admiral. Chandrajuski chose well. In the Queen’s name, I thank you for what you have done.” He sat, then looked at the two other Great Cats with him. When he turned back to Buskin, he said, “Work out the recruiting details with my men here. I need to spend some time with Krys. If you’ll excuse us, I’ll see you again before I leave.”

“Very well, Sire, and thank you. My plan won’t work without your brothers.”

“Actually, it might. If things go as planned, my men will be a temporary measure. Chandrajuski will explain.” He, Krys, and Tarn left.

“Will you join me on my ship?” Otis asked her.

“Will you join me on mine? I’d like my crew to meet you. None of them has ever met a Knight. They’ve had no proof of the Queen’s existence, only my words.”

“I’d be delighted, and they deserve proof. You and I will need some privacy.”

“I know. I hope you’ll include Tarn. He’s the Guide.”

Otis stopped dead in his tracks, a low growl escaping his throat. He turned to Tarn, looking carefully at the young man before him. After a time, he nodded and held out a hand. “A pleasure to meet you. So we finally know who her Guide is.”

“Uh, not exactly, Sire.”

“You’re not her Guide, the one we were told to expect?”

“I might be, Sire. When her need was greatest, I was there. I believe that was the promise?”

“Then why are you uncertain?”

“I’m no longer uncertain, Sire. I am the Guide, but not her guide.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, turning to Krys.

“Neither did I, at first,” she said. “I was looking for someone to guide me, when that was not what the Leaf People promised at all. They never promised me my own guide, only that the Guide would find me. My visions are for others, Otis, and I’ve never been able to interpret them. Tarn has. He’s their Guide.”

Otis nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve had more visions then. Your skills have improved?”

“Marginally. I wish I had someone who could teach me.”

“You know your next stop must be the Queen.”

She nodded. “I knew the moment I saw you. I’ve not yet met anyone who knows where she is.”

“There’s not a more carefully guarded secret. Keep that in mind.”

“I’m a little more grown up than when you last saw me. Don’t worry.”

“You’re still a cub as far as I’m concerned. Both of you,” he said, looking back and forth between the two. “How have you managed so well?”

“I have a wonderful crew, and your brothers have played their part. We’re all better at what we do because of them.”

“I expect no less of them.”

“But they did it without proof, Otis. They had some hard choices to make, and they made them without proof.”

When they reached Rappor, Krys presented Otis to the crew. They all bowed to him, but he would have none of that.

“Stand, all of you,” he demanded. He looked the crew over carefully and nodded his great head. “A Rress and a Schect. No wonder you managed so well.”

“The whole crew is exceptional, Sire,” Krys said. “Gordi’i and Kali’i are excellent gunners, and they’ve demonstrated their skills with hand weapons as well as ship’s weapons. Engineer Gortlan has managed to get us through several beacon changes, not a fun process.”

“It’s possible to change a beacon?” Otis asked in surprise. “The Queen would have benefited from an ability to do that.”

“It takes special equipment and training, Sire,” Gortlan said. “It requires shutting down the AI completely while in transit. The pilots have an interesting time holding things together while I reboot.”

Otis eyed them all hard. “Your new First Knight transited 800 light years without an AI. His Rider and your Queen kept the net functioning while he made all the jumps manually. It took the better part of a year.”

Stven looked at M’Sada in shock. “You embarrass us, Sire. We struggle to hold things together for a couple of hours.”

“Well, in your favor, the First Knight and the Queen did not know that what they were doing was difficult.” He turned to Krys. “Tell me your story.”

“I think yours is much more interesting.”

“My story is the Queen’s story. It will be told in private.”

“Otis, if your crew was so small that she had to be in the net, I think you know what life is like aboard a small ship. There are no secrets between us. There can’t be.”

Otis sat almost at attention as he considered. “You’re right, Krys. You know, of course, what happened to the treaty mission.”

“We only saw the wreckage. Tarn, Stven, and I were there. We had hoped to rescue you, but I knew we were too late long before we arrived.”

Otis nodded. “We escaped, but someone had altered the navigation program. We ended up far from where we intended. We fled to the nearest world, a world classified as an emerging world. The Chessori tracked us, and a running battle that had begun at the treaty site continued.”

“Tracked!” Stven exclaimed. “I knew it.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“We’ve suspected it. And they have some way of calling ships through hyperspace.”

“We believe they have an interstellar communicator. The Empire does not have the capability, and it places us at a tremendous disadvantage.”

“So that’s how they keep finding us,” M’Sada said. “We hadn’t followed the line of logic all the way.”

“No one else has, either, not with these Chessori. We’re learning as we go,” Otis replied. He looked at Krys. “Remember your first vision, all those years ago?”

“I remember it well. I spent years trying to figure it out.”

“It was fulfilled on the emerging world. I won’t mention the name of that world. You’ll have to be Tested before that happens.”

“Tested!” Stven exclaimed again. A puff escaped from one nostril, despite the presence of a Knight of the Realm.

Otis’ head swung slowly in his direction. “Your next stop will be the Queen. Surely you know that. Do you fear a Testing?”

“No, Sire. I just… well, I never expected to meet a Knight of the Realm, let alone the Queen.” He looked to Krys for support.

Otis turned back to Krys. “She needs you by her side as quickly as you can get there. She’s alone.”

“Alone!”

“In her mind, she’s alone. All her Knights are away on various tasks, and I don’t doubt that Chandrajuski is, as well. She needs a friend, Krys.”

Another puff escaped, and M’Sada was forced to leave, his upper hands working overtime on his antennae as he raced for the exit. Otis looked at Stven with a peculiar look. “Isn’t that considered bad form among the Rress?”

Stven’s head lowered on his long neck. “Sorry, Sire. There’s a reason I’m here instead of there, something about a weak diaphragm. I’m quite the reject.”

“Then I wish there were more rejects. Stand tall, sailor.”

“Yes, Sire,” Stven said, his neck lifting slightly, still mortified.

“You said the vision was fulfilled,” Krys said. “Most of it I understand now, but who is the man of dirt?”

“I can’t say without revealing more than I can before you’re Tested. Let me just say that you could not have been more precise in your original description of him. All your descriptions fit.”

Krys’ eyes rose to the ceiling as she remembered the words of Daughter’s vision.

“You will be so much more, and have so much less. They will best you, but a man of dirt will come to your aid.”

Alone among all her visions, she had been uncertain of one word. The word dirt seemed to carry more than one meaning. The actual word that had come to her was earth, or Earth, but the sense of dirt came through strongly. Her eyes grew large as she considered Otis’ words, but she remained mute as he continued.

“The only survivors of a ground battle on that emerging world were the Queen, her daughter, the nanny, a Rider whose host was dying, myself, and the ‘man of dirt,’ as you call him. Without his help, none of us would have survived. The Queen was forced to do a terrible thing. She stunned this man from an emerging world and permitted a newly fissioned Rider to enter his body.”

Krys sucked in a breath.

“Yes, somewhat akin to what happened to Val, isn’t it? But for the man of dirt who knew nothing of our ways, it was a difficult awakening. It took many months for him to accept the Rider. I might add that the Rider played a major part in another vision, Krys: your vision with Chandrajuski.”

Krys remembered the words:

“Easy to leave, hard to remain. The man of dirt comes to one in shadow. She will die, but death is not forever.”

“She died at the hands of a gleason, but the man of dirt sent his Rider to her. It kept her alive and healed her. I believe she has since returned the Rider to him.”

Stven worked hard to hold back a puff. M’Sada had just returned to the lounge. “Yes?” Otis asked Stven.

Stven was afraid to breath, but M’Sada, too, was intrigued. He asked the question for Stven. “A gleason?”

“You know of them?”

“Only that they’re the stuff of nightmares.”

“They are. One killed me that night, as well.” Krys turned startled eyes to him, and he grinned his feral grin. “Seems we had just enough Riders to go around.”

He turned back to M’Sada. “Recruiting gleasons could not have been easy. It shows how hard the Rebels are searching for the Queen. Know this: she represents failure for them. If the Last of the Chosen survives, the Rebels will be unable to hold the coup together.”

Otis turned glaring eyes to each of them. “Do each of you understand that?” Heads nodded, and he growled low in his throat.

“It might explain why they’ve been looking so hard for us, and why they were so successful,” Stven said. “They probably hoped they could reach her through us. But, Sire, if the gleason killed you and the Queen, who killed it?”

“The man of dirt.”

“He kills gleasons? And Chessori? And he flew halfway across the galaxy manually? Who is he?”

“He’s just a man, but he made the ultimate sacrifice for his Queen, twice. There’s a lot more to him, but his story is for another day. He is your First Knight, a title that has been earned many times over.”

Krys’ eyes sparkled. “I once told Daughter that she would find her knight in shining armor. I didn’t understand how she would do it since she was soon to be part of an arranged marriage, but her husband is dead now. Has she found her knight in shining armor?”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself, Krys.”

She smiled. His words were answer enough, and she was happy for the person who had come closest to being the mother she never knew.

Otis’ story was long, and parts were left out, but when he was done, a fire had been lit under the crew. What they’d gone through seemed paltry in comparison, but when Krys finished their story, Otis assured them it was not. “You’ve served your queen honorably and well,” he said.

He pulled Krys aside. “Is there anything you have not told me?”

“No, Sire. We have withheld nothing of which I am aware.”

“You must go to the Queen, without delay.”

“I will, Otis, but you should know this: I’m needed out here as much as I am there. In part, because I’m helping to spread the word to high ranking officers, but that’s not the main reason. Admiral Buskin has many more resources for reaching these officers, and he’s reached far more than I have. I need to be out here because my visions are helpful to the Queen. To have those visions, it seems I must be in contact with the person who is the focus of the vision, at least most of the time. Some of the people out here are going to play big parts in whatever is coming. If I can offer them guidance, it serves her.”

“She needs guidance, as well, Krys.”

“I don’t have to stay out here all the time.”

“And she might be able to provide you with some tools to help you in your job. It will be up to her. She’s a very smart lady, don’t ever forget. She’s out of her element some of the time, she’s learning how to be Queen just as we’re all learning the craft of state. She’s stumbling occasionally, but she has a plan, and you’re part of it. I’m glad we finally found you.”

“And now I have to go.”

“Yes, to her. I’m not going to tell you where she is, Krys. It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because you can’t tell what you don’t know.”

“Stven and M’Sada will have to know.”

“They’re Imperial Officers. They’ll handle the information appropriately.”

“What, kill themselves if we’re captured?”

“They’re fine officers, Krys. I would expect no less in these difficult times, and I’m certain they’ll deliver no less.” He opened his mouth in a leer, showing his vicious teeth. “It’s a good reason to win, to keep fighting under any circumstances, eh?”

In the end, Stven and M’Sada did not learn the location of the Queen. Buskin did, and Rappor remained at her berth in his hangar bay.

The voyage to Shipyard took ten weeks. During that time, Buskin continued working with his staff to develop fighting tactics. Serious fighting would take place eventually, and tactics for fighting squadron against squadron had never been considered during training at the Academy. Worse, it looked like fleets might end up fighting fleets, an extremely complex endeavor. He’d already spent considerable time working on the issue from his hiding place out among the stars, but there were a lot of unknowns, and he was not at all confident of success.

Stven and M’Sada had both attended the Academy, but their training had focused on small unit operations. Chandrajuski had promoted them early, and the requisite advanced training schools had not been provided. Buskin invited them to join with his staff for a glimpse of the bigger picture.

Buskin configured his Operations Center on the cruiser into its simulator mode, and his staff practiced war games. Stven caught on quickly and held his own with the more senior commanders under Buskin, and M’Sada took naturally to the task. He tended to act slower, with more deliberation, but his engagements were often more successful. Some of his suggestions found their way into what was becoming a primer for large battles.

But fighting the Chessori would be up to the Great Cats. Buskin, from his earlier observations of the cats as they trained aboard Brigand, knew that although they were great fighters, they were not well-suited to commanding fleets. Their skills, honed during centuries of survival, focused on individual and small group tactics. Never had the Great Cats been asked to function as squadron or fleet commanders, and they were not good at it. The cats needed to be commanded, if only to be ordered to retreat when appropriate. They didn’t like retreating, and none of them liked calling for help. They wanted a target, and they wanted to stay on that target until it, or they, were destroyed. The trainers aboard Brigand had resorted to keeping an Empire admiral far removed from the battle in an effort to avoid the Chessori mind weapon, and it worked, but it was not nearly as efficient as Buskin wanted.

Stven took to spending long hours with Borg, Kross, and Trist in front of screens, setting up problems and talking them through solutions. By starting with the most elementary tactics, then patiently moving on to more advanced problems, almost like using a textbook instead of the pressure of real time battles on the net, the Great Cats improved their grasp of the larger picture and made real headway.

Buskin was pleased, and he decided to order similar training when he returned to his fleet. In hindsight, he’d been asking too much of the cats who had never had the benefit of Academy training. He would start over at the beginning, just like at the Academy, and advance only when the cats were ready.

Krys was apprehensive at meeting the Queen. She hadn’t seen her for over twelve years now, and she’d been traipsing all over the Empire doing things in the Queen’s name, all without her permission. She felt small again, as if she was the 16 year old waif of a girl Daughter had pulled from an orphanage so long ago.

Tarn sensed her discomfort, but he, too, was concerned about what would happen following their meeting with the Queen. That they would be Tested was not a concern. What would become of Krys’ crew was.

“You know she won’t be upset with you. How could she?” he asked as they did their stretching exercises prior to meditation.

“You don’t know her. I do, but I don’t know how she’s going to take this. Tarn, I’m a Seer, her Seer, but I’m not a politician or an admiral. What we’ve been doing is both of those. She might be offended.”

“Because you brought her a thousand ships? I don’t think so.”

“It’s only three hundred so far, and ships are not her only concern. The image the Empire carries of its Queen is important, and I’ve usurped some privileges in that area.”

“You’ve only done what you felt was necessary.”

“I have spoken for her, Tarn. Many times. I’ve called all these people to her side, and I’ve done so in her name. It’s always been in her name. My name means nothing.”

He leaned forward, his head touching the deck between his spread legs. Two years ago he’d never have been able to stretch like that.

“If you’ve spoken in her name, it was right. I’ve never sensed wrongness in anything we’ve done.” He looked up at her, his chin on the deck as he held the stretch, his eyes meeting hers as she leaned across one outstretched leg. “She’s going to keep you by her side. I’ll be reassigned to another crew somewhere.”

Krys paused, then relaxed her stretch, her mouth settling into a thin line. “You won’t. You’re the Guide. I won’t let her.”

Their eyes locked. She would defy the Queen? For him? Not a chance. “You won’t have any say in it,” he said, straightening up.

She, too, straightened up, very focused. “I will have a say in it, Tarn. I’m not letting you get away that easily.”

“Get away?”

She blinked, then sighed. “How long have we been doing these exercises together?”

“Almost two years.”

“And in all that time, despite the fact that I’m wearing a skin-tight outfit that leaves little to the imagination, you’ve been a perfect gentleman. Why?”

He squirmed, not wanting to answer. When he did, the answer was pathetic. “I’m an Imperial Officer and your aide, Krys. Chandrajuski ordered me to be a gentleman at all times.”

“Pshaw. Are you human?”

“Too human. It hasn’t been easy, but one thing has helped, a lot. You’re special, probably more special than you admit to yourself. I’m slightly in awe of you.” His eyes lowered. “Maybe more than slightly.”

“You’re strong, Tarn, much stronger than me. I’ve been having trouble concentrating when we’re together.”

He closed his eyes. “Me, too.”

“Maybe you should stop being the perfect gentleman. I don’t think your orders were intended to keep two people in love apart.”

His head jerked up, and he locked gazes with her. “You know?” he breathed.

She leaned toward him and reached a hand out to caress his face. “Don’t you?”

He closed his eyes, and a hand rose involuntarily to press her hand closer. “I do know, but in this I sense wrongness. You’re the Queen’s Seer, Krys. I’m just a lieutenant.”

“You’re The Guide, Tarn, one of six people named by the Leaf People. I don’t think rank is the issue here. Look at me,” she demanded. She already had his undivided attention, she could almost feel waves of energy pouring from him, but she needed to look into his eyes. “I’m the Queen’s Seer, but I’m a person, too, and I have need of your love. I love you.”

His eyes closed as he savored the words, words he had wanted to hear for a long, long time. He opened his eyes to meet hers. “I love you, Krys. I’m not sure that changes anything, but I love you.”

Exercise forgotten, he took her hand and pulled her to himself. They lay on the deck, side by side, his hand caressing her face. He leaned down and kissed each of her eyes, saying, “I have so wanted to hold you like this. I love you, My Lady.”

He kissed her lips, and the kiss was returned.

M ike