Spirit of Empire

Book Two

Knights of the Chosen

By

Lawrence P. White

www.spiritofempire.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Lawrence P. White

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, email Lawrence P. White at larry@spiritofempire.com

First Kindle eBook edition June 2011

Cover designed by Duncan Long

Contents

First Knight

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Val

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Mike

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Krys

Chapter Ten

Mike

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Reba

Chapter Thirteen

Mike

Chapter Fourteen

Krys

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Reba

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Trexler

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Krys

Chapter Twenty-eight

First Knight

Chapter One

The gleason struck so quickly that only a few in the great forest room of Chandrajuski’s home knew it was even there. Most were still shaking off the terrible effects of the Chessori mind weapon. The three Chessori lay dead, killed by Mike and Reba, but Otis, Ellie’s Protector, lay dying with a knife in his side. Ellie, the Last of the Chosen, collapsed with a knife in her heart, dead before she reached the floor.

Jessie, Mike’s Protector and the only remaining Great Cat, leaped to the back of the room, firing repeatedly at the gleason to make certain it was dead.

Mike fell to the floor with Ellie, cushioning her. “Guard us!” he yelled to the room at large. Without waiting for a response, he went internal.

>Jake, I need you. She needs you.<

Jake knew exactly what he meant. >It’s not done like this, Mike. You’re my host.<

>We’re her First Knight, Jake. Find a way. You are her only chance.<

Ellie’s death had come so suddenly that Jake was at a loss, completely unprepared for what Mike asked of him. He had never considered living anywhere but within Mike. Riders always committed to a host and remained with them forever. The thought of leaving Mike devastated him. He wanted to fission a new Rider instead, but he knew his Queen did not have time.

>I’ll try. Give me a minute, then remove the knife.<

Mike closed his hands around Ellie’s neck, providing skin-to-skin contact for Jake, feeling for a pulse as he did so. There was no pulse at all. He closed his eyes, oblivious to all other activity within the room, feeling intently, waiting for a pulse. Still nothing. He waited the full minute, then pulled the knife from her chest and immediately went back to feeling for a pulse.

After a time, he thought he felt a faint pressure. The pressure gradually increased until he was certain there was a pulse, though it remained weak.

“Thank you, Jake,” he whispered and was momentarily surprised that there was no response. But there could be no response. Jake was no longer a part of him.

His attention widened to take in his surroundings. All eyes were on him and Ellie. Vorst, the replacement Sector Commander, lay bound hand and foot. Jessie crouched beside Otis who was unconscious. “Is he . . . ?” Mike struggled to ask.

“Not yet,” she growled in response. “But it will not be long. The knives are almost certainly poisoned.”

Mike turned to Reba who stood at the ready, her blaster trying to cover the whole room.

“Jake has gone to Ellie. It seems to be working.”

Her eyes closed as she went internal to her Rider. When her lips thinned and she holstered her blaster, Mike knew the two of them had reached agreement. She went to Otis and laid her hands on him. After a time, she removed the knife from his side.

She turned back to Mike, the sparkle that was always evident in her eyes gone. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jeffers, the leader of Chandrajuski’s underground, spoke into a communicator, then ordered everyone outside to the assembly point. One of Serge’s freighters was just settling to the ground. As they struggled to get Ellie and Otis aboard, the freighter was struck by fire from above. It quickly responded with its own weapons, but it could not move until the ramp closed. Its upper shields glowed from hits, and dissipating energy streaming from the shields struck several of Jeffers’ men. There was no hope for them.

Jeffers boarded and quickly ran for the bridge. When he arrived, the ship was just lifting. Captain Palmetier, though busy, immediately lifted his visor and raised a blaster toward him.

Jeffers raised his hands, shouting, “I’m on your side.” He set his own blaster on the floor and slid it toward Palmetier, then submitted as two crewmen pinned his arms to his sides. A glance at the screens showed a full squadron of fighters engaging the freighter.

A loud, “Time to boogie, Jer,”  came over the speakers as another freighter appeared on the screens headed directly into the fray, its weapons firing nonstop. Serge Parsons had come in person.

“On the way, boss,” replied Palmetier curtly. He slid his visor back over his face to cover a grin.

Moments later, a cruiser came into view from over the horizon, moving fast.

“That one’s on our side,” yelled Jeffers. “So are a couple of others. Be careful who you shoot at. Get me into the net so I can help.”

The two crewmen were uncertain until Sir Val showed up. “Let us both into the net,” he ordered.

It didn’t take long before they cleared the fighters and headed for space. In fact, by the time they reached space, there wasn’t a single Rebel fighter left. The Rebel command ship, a cruiser, broke off its pursuit when Jeffers’ friendly squadron approached. When two more squadrons of Jeffers’ ships came over the horizon, it was no contest. The Rebel cruiser retreated.

They reached the edge of space, but they did not have to wait three weeks to jump as did Jeffers’ ships. Use of the micro jumping capability might give away a closely held secret, but Ellie’s life hung in the balance. Joline’s beacon went silent, and it was likely the Rebels would not even see the ship amidst all the confusion. As Palmetier prepared jump computations for the first micro jump, Val contacted Serge and gave him a set of coordinates, explaining to him that three heavy squadrons loyal to Chandrajuski and the Queen would head for that point in space. Admiral Chandrajuski wanted those ships, but none of them knew the location of the Queen’s secret base.

Serge balked until apprised of the Queen’s condition, then grimly advised Val that he’d take care of it.

Joline’s sickbay carried no life support tanks, only a medic and basic supplies. Jake and Celine, the two Riders, had their work cut out for them.

From his own experience Mike knew that, at the very least, food was essential to their survival. The healing process used by Riders consumed large amounts energy. The medic attached two IV’s to each of them and pushed all the nourishment she could into the comatose bodies.

Her principle concern for her patients was not the physical damage caused by the knives – the Riders seemed to have that problem well in hand. Her greater concern was whether the Riders could cope with whatever poison had been on the blades. She took blood samples, then had to wait while a computer worked on the samples.

Mike remained by Ellie’s side. She couldn’t hear him, but he believed his presence might somehow help. She and Otis each contracted high fevers despite their Riders’ best efforts.

The computer only partially resolved the issue of the poison. It was there, and its molecular structure had been analyzed, but it matched no known compound. The medic made an educated guess that it was from the home world of the gleasons. Any wrong attempts to treat it might make Jake and Celine’s jobs harder.

It didn’t take Mike long to make the logical connections. He called Captain Palmetier.

“You carried Otis on his research mission to study the gleasons. Do you have his notes?”

“I do.”

“There might be some mention of poisons used by the gleasons. Can you get everyone you can to review the records for us?”

“We’ll get on it immediately.”

It took a while, but Val and Reba eventually showed up with printouts in hand. “We have a number of possibilities, Mike,” Val advised. “We’ve discarded most of them as being so lethal that they kill instantly. Neither Ellie or Otis would still be alive if they had been used. We’re down to three that are a little slower acting but just as deadly.”

They showed the printouts to the medic who studied them intently. She then went to work on her computer.

“Of the three, I can synthesize antidotes for two,” she announced after some study. “An antidote for the third is unknown. I cannot say which of the remaining two is most likely. I’m going to take samples for testing.”

“How long will the testing take?” Mike asked wearily.

The medic worked while she talked, taking new samples of blood from Ellie and Otis and placing those samples on a number of test dishes. “A day or two, minimum. I have to let the growths get started, but I can work on making both antidotes while that’s going on. Then we test the antidotes on the test growths. Another few hours to a day or so.”

“Let me know the minute you have the antidotes ready,” Mike ordered. “It doesn’t look to me like we have days. They’re burning up with fever.”

The antidotes were ready in a few hours. Mike pushed the medic as hard as he could. “Is there any sign of growth yet in the test samples?”

“Only microscopic. Not enough to test.”

“You have lots of samples. Test a few right now.”

The medic did as ordered, but she was not happy about it. “The tests results will not be valid, Sire.”

“I know. You can run complete tests on the other samples later.”

Mike then reached both hands down inside Ellie’s hospital gown, placing both hands flat against her stomach. With his eyes closed, he willed his thoughts to Jake. “Come on, Jake. Come to me,” he whispered.

It didn’t take long for Jake to sense his presence. Though he couldn’t feel anything, Mike felt Jake’s presence.

>Hello, Man,< he heard faintly, as if from far away.

>Hi, Jake.<

>I’m too busy for idle chatter. I don’t think we’re going to make it this time.<

>Yes you are, and I’m going to help. I need you to pass me a sample of the poison.<

>You already have samples.<

>No, Jake. I need you to pass a sample into my body. We don’t know which antidote to use. We’ll test one of them on me.<

He felt Jake’s presence strengthen in him. He had Jake’s complete attention for the moment. More, he sensed Jake’s suffering. The poison was clearly killing him as well as Ellie.

>Not a good idea, Mike. This is a bad one.<

>I know, and from the looks of things, you can’t save her by yourself. Please let me help, for both of your sakes.<

>You understand that if I lose her, I am lost as well?<

>I kind of guessed that.<

>Okay, here you go. This stuff hurts.<

>Make it a strong sample, Jake. If we guess wrong, if we use the wrong antidote, it will kill both of you.<

>Okay. I have to go. See you on the other side.<

Mike felt Jake’s presence withdraw. He pulled his hands from Ellie and turned to the medic who was staring at him with a shocked expression.

“Any results yet?” he asked.

“No, Sire. I just started the test. What were you doing?”

“Communicating with her Rider. The poison is in me now, and it’s already working. You’d better get another bed ready.”

The medic’s eyes rose to the ceiling. With a frown, she bustled Mike off to a bed. Reba started to chew Mike out, but Val put his arm around her waist and leaned toward her ear.

“You know it’s the right thing to do. I’d do it for you in a heartbeat. In fact, I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself. He’s doing it for her, not just for the Empire.”

“Of course he is. My god, it could all fall apart right here,” she breathed.

“No. One Heir remains, if she proves to have the Touch. I’m staying the course. Will you?”

“I choose to stay with you no matter what course we follow,” she whispered into his ear.

Mike’s body arched. He groaned, “Someone better make a decision.”

The medic turned frightened eyes to him. “It’s too soon, Sire. I can’t be certain.”

Chandrajuski’s long, jointed legs inched his bright green body farther into sick bay, the wise old eyes of the giant praying mantis swinging toward the medic until they were on a level with her own.  Speaking like a father rather than the queen’s senior military commander, he said, “You must decide, child. If you choose wrong, it will not be held against you. We understand.”

She returned to her test dishes, taking samples and placing them under a microscope for visual inspection. The computers had so far been inconclusive. Switching samples back and forth, still peering into the eyepiece, she eventually said, “I believe it is most likely this one, but I can’t be certain.”

“Then the decision is made,” Chandrajuski said to her. “Administer the antidote. If this one fails, we will administer the other to Otis.”

Twenty minutes later Mike stirred, then opened his eyes. Chandrajuski took charge, turning to the medic. “Were both knives poisoned with the same chemical?”

“Yes.”

“Administer the antidote to both of them, at once.”

Both Ellie and Otis’ fevers broke hours later. Both remained in a coma as the Riders did their work, but the immediate danger had passed.

Mike was able to leave his bed the following day, though he remained weak. He found Jessie sitting by Ellie’s side, her tail curled around her feet, her body wrapped in massive bandages.

“How are they doing?”

“About the same. No worse. The poison damaged multiple organs. They’re beyond help from the medic, but she believes the Riders have a chance. They both need tanks, but the ship doesn’t carry a tank.”

“You’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”

“I have my responsibilities. I will answer to Otis when he recovers.”

“Can’t you share the job with the other cats?”

“What others?”

“You mean . . .” He paused, suddenly aware that the rest of the Great Cats were missing. They must have perished in their battle against the gleasons.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” After a time, he asked, “Were any of them special to you?”

“All of them were special to me. We were team members.”

“Why don’t you take a break, get some rest. I’ll stay.”

“You couldn’t protect her from a feather right now.”

“Neither could you.”

“You’d be surprised, Sire.”

“Okay, I’ll get Val or Reba to relieve you. Will that be acceptable?”

“Bring both of them, and be certain they’re armed. We cannot guarantee the loyalty of the crew. She is not to be left unguarded, even for a moment.”

* * * * *

He joined Chandrajuski and Jeffers in a planning session the following day. Reba and Val attended, as well. Jeffers started the meeting, briefing them on the sizeable underground organization he had built on Centauri III. During the months of planning Chandrajuski’s rescue, he had managed to transfer his supporters to ships commanded by individuals he was certain would be loyal to the Queen. He had also managed to send most of the families of those sailors to other worlds where retribution would be slow to follow.

Chandrajuski had high hopes that his senior staff had made it aboard the Empire ships at the last moment, but there was no way to communicate with those ships after the first jump. He hoped to fan these leaders out across the Empire to recruit more ships and more men.

Everyone agreed that the ultimate demise of the coup would have its roots in the political arena, and the Queen would surely lead that effort when she recovered. Their job was to support her political agenda with appropriate military force, and they would have to move fast to gather those forces. The Rebels became more entrenched with every passing day.

As Mike listened to them talk, it dawned on him that their plan ignored a vital component. He waited, sure it would come up, but it did not. As the meeting wound down and chairs scraped back preparatory to everyone leaving, he held up a hand.

“Wait. We’re not done.”

He looked to each of them as he considered his next words. Reba nodded encouragement, knowing his concern. Val looked worried, clearly understanding that Chandrajuski’s plan was flawed, but he had no solution to the flaw. Jeffers raised an eyebrow to his First Knight and waited for him to speak. Mike’s gaze ended up on Chandrajuski, a creature he barely knew. The wise old eyes of the Gamordian that so reminded Mike of Albert Einstein stared back at him, expectant and patient. Mike studied those eyes, wondering what was going through the Admiral’s mind.

There was no question in Mike’s mind that, with Chandrajuski aboard, his own responsibilities, the responsibilities of the Queen’s First Knight, were changed. Not diminished, just changed. The rebuilding of Empire military forces would be accomplished by Chandrajuski, and Mike had no doubt that the job was in good hands. His own responsibility in that regard had metamorphosed to one of oversight. Chandrajuski’s presence did not push him to the sidelines – there were no sidelines for the First Knight. Instead, he was free to focus in other directions, and his immediate focus was on the big picture: what good were Chandrajuski’s forces going to be against the Chessori mind weapon?

“Your plan is exactly what the Queen had in mind, Admiral, and I hope you can pull it off. She believes that you can.”

“You don’t?”

“I do, so far as it goes.”

“It’s already well underway.”

“It is?”

Chandrajuski considered him for a time. He knew almost nothing about the new Queen’s First Knight, but after what Mike had done to save her, he held no doubts concerning his loyalty.

“I have not revealed every detail of my plan, to you or to Captain Jeffers.” His gaze went to Jeffers. “There was too much risk in informing you, my friend.”

Jeffers nodded, and Chandrajuski’s steady gaze moved to Val. “I told you in our first meeting that your sister was out on assignment. I did not tell you what that assignment was.”

Val nodded grimly, and Chandrajuski’s head swung back to Mike.

“The Queen’s Seer revealed to me that one Chosen still lived after the Rebel strike on the Palace. She had no idea where Daughter was, but she knew that Daughter lived. That was enough for me to act. She is on a mission to inform certain other individuals that the Empire is not dead. Sire, if she is successful, a limited number of senior military leaders are, even now, awaiting word from the Queen.”

Chandrajuski paused, then added, “There’s more. These leaders have been instructed to hold as long as they can. When holding becomes untenable, they are to retreat with as many forces as they can muster and wait for further instructions.”

Mike stared at Chandrajuski in awe, his mind attempting to grasp the concept of serious military forces already at the beck and call of the Queen. For so long they had been just one ship, then a few more damaged ships from Admiral Jon’s squadron. Suddenly, there might be fleets in the wings just waiting to be commanded.

“A masterful stroke, Admiral. The Queen chose well in you.”

“Perhaps. I have heard nothing back from the Queen’s Seer. I have no idea if she has been successful or not.”

“Do the Rebels know of this plan?”

“They don’t from me. During my incarceration, I was subjected to questioning under the influence of certain drugs that force truth, but these drugs do not make one forget the questions.” His mouth opened to display many tiny, wickedly sharp teeth, and Mike leaned away from him, suddenly reminded that this creature was a warrior.

The mouth closed abruptly. “Sorry, First Knight. I did not mean to frighten you. It is my equivalent of your smile.”

“And what is there to smile about?”

“They failed to ask the right questions, Sire.” Again, the mouth opened, and Mike recognized the smile this time.

“They might not have learned about it from you, sir,” Val said softly, “but there are others.”

“Too true, Sire. Krys is as frightened as she is determined. I believe that, in her own mind, she has accepted the same call to duty that you did as a child when you saved Daughter from assassination.”

Val’s look of horror was not lost on Chandrajuski.

“We covered her tracks thoroughly on Centauri III. She has a civilian ship with a number of military upgrades, and she has a military crew. Her captain is a Rress, and her pilot is a Schect.”

Val nodded grimly. “Not all her contacts will be successful. Her purpose will become known.”

“It will, Sire. Let us hope it is not too soon. Her contacts were carefully chosen.”

“Admiral,” Mike said, “you’ve been held prisoner and might not be aware of all the issues. Our concern is not just the Rebels. They have partnered with the Chessori.”

Chandrajuski’s eyes blinked, then blinked again. “You’re certain of this, Sire?”

“Pretty certain, and the consequences are staggering. Only one ship survived Daughter’s treaty mission to the Chessori, one ship out of two squadrons. As well, the Rebels, with the help of the Chessori, nearly took Resolve on Earth and again in space on a number of occasions. A limited number of Chessori observers took over Val’s squadron from within, allowing Rebels to take command. I was mortally wounded by a Chessori aboard that ship, surviving only because of my Rider. The Chessori were moments away from killing the Queen in your home when Reba and I gunned them down, and you personally experienced the effect of their mind weapon, even if it was only for a few moments.

“According to Jessie, the Chessori mind weapon was the cause of the lone gleason escaping the Great Cats outside your home, giving it the opportunity to mortally wound the Queen.

“In hindsight, we should have known better than to let the Queen come to Centauri III at all, not so much because of the Rebels, but because we failed to factor the Chessori into the equation.”

Chandrajuski’s gaze remained on him, but Mike sensed that he was not the focus of Chandrajuski’s thoughts. Wheels were turning within that great mind.

When he sensed those wise eyes focused on him again, Mike said softly, “The Chessori are out to get the Queen, and they’ve come within a hair’s breadth of succeeding on too many occasions. Furthermore, they’ve partnered with the Rebels. In every case, so far as I know, everyone but Reba and I, and to some extent the Great Cats, are completely powerless against this mind weapon.”

Chandrajuski backed away from the table and turned sideways to them, a long, delicate leg moving gracefully, then freezing in position while another leg moved, one after another, the pattern repeating itself. He stared at the far end of the room, then swung his long neck back toward Mike. “That explains what happened to the ships I sent to Dorwall to rescue Daughter.”

“You tried to rescue her? How did you know?”

“Krys knew. She accompanied the rescue party and was the sole survivor. She returned with an unbelievable story of a small number of Chessori ships destroying my three squadrons with barely a shot fired. I considered it an exterior threat, and my focus remained on the internal issues of trying to hold the Empire together. I see now that I was short-sighted.”

“She was there?” Val asked in alarm.

“She was. She observed events from afar, from aboard a small fighter. It was the only ship to return.” He moved back to the table, his eyes on Jeffers. “What do you know of these Chessori?”

“Chessori traders show up from time to time, as they have been doing for a long time. Their presence has increased since the coup, but I paid them no mind. To the best of my knowledge, they’re just trading.”

“There were three Chessori with Admiral Vorst,” Mike corrected him.

Jeffers’ lips compressed. “They’re our enemy, and I paid them no heed. I’m sorry, Sire.”

“There’s no fault here, but you’re right: they’re our enemy just as much as the Rebels are our enemy. And if they were invisible to you, they’re probably invisible to any other forces you’ve cobbled together.”

He leaned forward, his gaze on Chandrajuski. “You can’t fight them, Admiral.”

Chandrajuski met his gaze. “You did not fall to this mind weapon when the Chessori activated it in my home.”

“Reba and I have experienced it many times. It does not affect us.”

Chandrajuski turned to Val. “Is it something to do with the knighting process?”

“No, sir. I, too, suffer, as does the Queen. As fighting units, we are completely incapacitated.”

“No political mechanism exists for dealing with them, and you’re telling me there is no military solution either?” Chandrajuski demanded.

“There is a military solution, Admiral, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” Val said, nodding to Mike to continue.

“You knew?” Mike asked him in surprise.

“Reba and I talk. We are in agreement that it’s necessary, but we are not in agreement that it can be done.”

Mike turned to Reba with raised eyebrows. She nodded. “It’s a stretch, Mike. No argument there, but we can do it. I know we can. A few hundred front-line warriors would be a good beginning. We don’t need any support staff, the Empire can provide all of that. You know as well as I do that it takes ten or more people to support one front line warrior. A few hundred volunteers could do the job of a few thousand. A thousand could do the job of many thousands. Their only purpose is to neutralize the Chessori. After that, regular Empire forces can deal with the Rebels.”

He nodded agreement, his lips compressed, and turned back to Chandrajuski. “The Chessori have to be met head on, and they have to be defeated. Until they are, the Queen will not be safe, and her military and political agendas have no chance of success. We believe our people, the people of Earth, are immune to the Chessori mind weapon. Reba and I definitely are, and others on Earth who have been in the presence of the mind weapon were, as well.

“We have to go to Earth, Admiral. We have to recruit soldiers and sailors and bring them back with us to fight the Chessori.”

Chandrajuski made a noise that could only be described as clearing his throat. “Besides the fact that Earth is classified as an emerging world and thereby off-limits, the obvious difficulties of language and technology such recruits would have to overcome make such a plan . . . questionable.”

He turned his attention to Reba. “This plan could also be dangerous to Earth. Have you considered that?”

“It could also be rewarding,” Reba replied, her eyes filled with excitement at the possibilities. “There will be challenges, but we will deal with them. Do you have a better idea?”

Chandrajuski stared at her, and it turned into a long stare. Clearly, he did not.

Mike was a little more subdued than Reba. “If we do this, we probably owe it to Earth to ask their permission, though I’m inclined to go ahead even if they refuse. But asking could be difficult. If we invite one nation, we have to invite all nations. If we don’t, we’ll disrupt already fragile political relationships around the globe. Language differences among the recruits would make it even more difficult to get them all working together, at least in any reasonable time frame.”

“Not so, Mike. I’ve met lots of foreign officers who speak English,” Reba countered. “We could make that a prerequisite for the first batch of volunteers. And we don’t have to start big. We need help aboard ships, and we need help protecting the Queen. We can do it.”

“Whether we can or not, do we have a choice?” He turned to Chandrajuski. “It’s been in my mind for quite a while to do this, but we’ve had no resources. If you do, indeed, have an organization in place, it’s time to act.”

“I hope I have something organized, but I’ll have to find out. You’re breaking all the rules as they relate to our treatment of emerging worlds, and ordinarily the Queen would have to decide. In her absence, it’s your call as First Knight. The idea has merit. Would you have us pursue it further?”

“Everyone in this room has experienced the effects of the Chessori mind weapon,” Mike responded without hesitation. “We don’t have any choice, nor do I think the Queen will rule differently when she’s back on her feet. Your responsibility is to fight the Rebels, Admiral. Mine is to fight the Chessori. I’m going to Earth.”

* * * * *

They landed on Shipyard two weeks after leaving Centauri III, demonstrating the power of Serge’s fast ships.  A ten week trip had been reduced to only two weeks. Had Shipyard not been located so incredibly far beyond the border, the trip would have taken as little as one week. As soon as they landed, Ellie and Otis were placed into restoration tanks to complete their healing under the guidance of full teams of medical specialists.

Serge had not yet returned. Assuming he was not fast-shipping, he was probably still on his way to the rendezvous with Chandrajuski’s ships. Someone there would have to decide what to do with those ships, and Serge would have a big say in it. Would he let them come to Parsons’ World, or would he renege on his agreement with the Queen now that it had become reality? Allowing three squadrons of fully operational ships into his domain was a far cry from giving permission to Jons to bring his few ailing ships in for repair. And, loyalties had to be sorted out. How reliable were the men from Centauri III? Serge was not the one to make that decision, at least not on his own. He needed help.

Mike brought it up to Chandrajuski soon after their arrival on Shipyard.

“Jeffers is here, and he’s the logical choice. He just needs a ship, preferably a fast ship. He can catch them at the rendezvous if he gets going, and he knows the men as well as I do. He’s perfect for the job,” Chandrajuski responded.

“Who’s to be in charge out there? Jeffers is a captain, but admirals reported to him on Centauri III.”

“Hmm. Good point, Sire. Jeffers is still the right man for the job. The organization we developed on Centauri III worked well enough for an underground, but we’re trying to reestablish normal Empire chain of command now. He’s seriously outranked.”

“Promote him.”

Chandrajuski gave him a piercing look. “It would take two promotions. Such an action can only be approved by the Queen.”

“He’s the man you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then promote him. I’ll sign whatever papers you need signed. I, too, think he’s the right man for the job.”

Chandrajuski’s mouth began opening in a smile, then he changed his mind. He looked hard at Mike. “I do believe you’re getting this job of First Knight figured out, Sire.”

Mike smiled, but the smile changed to a grimace. “This is the easy part. I think it gets harder from here on.”

Mike, Reba, and Val were reunited with Admiral Jons, who took them on a tour of Shipyard. Mike was surprised to learn that Shipyard was a fully developed, vibrant world with cities, farms, universities, entertainment, and lots of industry. It was not just an outpost as he’d been led to believe by Serge. In most ways, according to Jons, Shipyard was more civilized than Parsons’ World. Parsons’ World focused on the clandestine end of things. Shipyard was fed by the largess of Parsons’ World, and in return it provided research, innovation, and heavy industry. Most of Serge’s ship modifications, indeed entire ships, were manufactured on Shipyard. From here had come the science and engineering behind the micro jump, the modified beacons on every one of Serge’s ships, and the improved weapons Serge had displayed briefly as they left Centauri III.

Jons was certain Serge hadn’t laid all his secrets on the table. He strongly suspected advanced communications capabilities and faster ships’ drives among other things.

Jons proudly led them on a tour of a reconditioned Resolve. The ship had received the full attention of Shipyard’s master craftsmen and had been restored in record time. Resolve gleamed from head to toe, the battle scars completely eliminated. He led them to the bridge and invited Mike and Reba to plug in.

To their utter amazement, George appeared, welcoming them back. “And I’ve had an education, too,” he added mischievously. “You’ll like the new me.”

“George, we thought you were dead,” Mike said in wonder.

“So did I. The engineers here were able to resurrect me. I was there, just turned off.”

“That was an incredibly brave thing you did. You saved us all.”

“I think you get some credit for that, too,” said George as he basked in the praise. “I’ve heard most of the story, second hand of course. We made a good team, didn’t we! Are we going to be together again?”

“I’m certain we will, though maybe not real soon. You need to teach me the trick of resurrecting you in case I have to do it again. Uh, I’m sorry about what I asked you to do. I hope you won’t hold it against me forever.”

“I accept your apology, I won’t, and I think we can just put it behind us, Mike. We’ve both grown from the experience. Besides, I’m smarter now. It won’t happen again. Trust me. Where’s Jake?”

Mike winced as a deep pain sliced through him. “He’s with Ellie. I’m sure he’ll look you up as soon as he can.”

“I don’t confuse easily, Mike, especially since I got educated, but I’m confused. He’s with Ellie?”

“She almost died back on Centauri III. I had to give him up to save her. They’re still recuperating.”

George remained silent for a time, an eternity for a computer. “I’m sorry, Mike. I’m sure he misses you as much as you miss him.”

“I’m not sure it works that way with Riders, George. I think they grow to like whomever they’re with. I’m sorry it had to happen, but I have no regrets. She’s worth it. My hope is that they’ll both stay a part of my life.”

“And you, Reba? We didn’t get to meet properly last time. Welcome aboard!”

“It’s good to finally meet the real you, George. I’m glad you made it.”

“You seem changed. More confident or something.”

“Well, besides the fact that I’m fully checked-out on the net, there’s a man in my life now. I’ll have to introduce you.”

“If it’s possible for a computer to be happy, I’m happy for you, Reba. And thank you for letting me sense that happiness.”

“George, you’re more than a computer. Admit it. Have you met any others of your kind?”

“Many, here. We talk all the time. Would you like to talk with Joline?”

“Not at the moment. I just left her. I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten me yet.”

“Definitely not. She says you’re a natural starship commander. She’s happy to serve with you any time.”

“Who knows,” Reba mused. “Maybe you’ll both get the opportunity.”

Chapter Two

Juster knocked lightly before entering and slumped onto the couch across the room from the desk.

Struthers looked up from his work, irritated at the interruption, but this man had unlimited access to his office. “It’s a little early for a drink,” he said pleasantly.

“You’d better pour one. No, make it two. I have bad news.”

“Tell me you found her.”

“I did, but she got away. This time, she took Chandrajuski and several squadrons with her. I’m very sorry, Sire.”

Struthers could only stare as he sensed the complex threads of his grand plan unraveling. His sense of doom had been growing of late. He knew it showed, and he knew it was affecting his performance, but he couldn’t help it. He went to sleep with her on his mind, and he awoke to thoughts of her. No amount of work or liquor or women or anything else seemed to help, nothing except the growing kernel of hate in his gut. He fed it, and he liked feeding it.

He hated the Chosen, had for many years. Because of the Chosen, First Knight had been the highest position he could ever attain within the Empire, and it wasn’t enough. He was smarter, stronger, and better than them in all ways. He had earned the right to rule, but the gap between First Knight and the line of Chosen, where all the power truly lay, could not be crossed. Only fate, in the form of a genetic trait inherited by the line of Chosen, held him back from his rightful place.

He had pulled off his part of the coup, the really difficult part, flawlessly. Daughter’s fate had, he thought, been sealed the moment she departed on the treaty mission, a mission whose sole purpose had been to place her and a few others in the hands of the Chessori. The Chessori’s part had been so simple and so certain of success that he had erased her existence from his mind weeks before the coup to focus on the principle target, the Palace. The Chessori had let him down, badly.

He was so close! Of all the Chosen, she had been his least concern. And now . . . now he hated this particular Chosen most of all. He had considered issuing orders to capture her rather than kill her on sight, just so he could one day feel his hands around her throat, but he had come to his senses. He just wanted her dead. He needed her dead. Then he’d get back in the saddle and continue the charge.

He shook himself back to the present, then got up to mix a drink for each of them. “What about the gleasons? We were pretty confident there,” he said over his shoulder.

“All dead, Sire.”

“Vorst?”

“Captured, Sire.”

The delicate crystal glass shattered in his hand. Bright red blood flowed freely, but he didn’t notice, nor would he have cared. “It’s the cats, my friend,” he whispered. “Everything she’s accomplished is because of the cats. But she hasn’t been to Brodor. We have it staked out. And none of her ships have shown up anywhere. We’d know if they had. Where is she getting them?”

“She’s pretty sharp, Sire, and she knows how we work. She probably has a few sharp officers with her who know us, as well. We can’t know what’s happening on every planet – we’re not that well entrenched. Heck, we don’t even have our own fleets under control yet.”

“Then get them under control.”

“It’s not that easy, and you know it. Our plan calls for the process to take years. The Empire has some incredibly sharp officers in charge. You know it, you helped put them there, and we don’t just want to get rid of them: we want them on our side. It’s going to take time, lots of time. They’ll come around or else, but it’s too soon.”

“Time is the one thing we no longer have,” Struthers said. “She’s out there, and she’s plotting. I can feel it. We have to stop her.”

“Sire, we still have our ace in the hole. There aren’t enough cats to take out all the Chessori, and we now know from tests that the cats are not nearly as efficient under the scree. We need to make her come to us. We need to sit down and calmly figure out what her strategy is. If we can do that, we can be waiting. We can beef up the Chessori wherever we think she’s headed, and we’ll take her out. Just like that,” he said snapping his fingers.

“By the way, Sire, did you know your hand is bleeding?”

Struthers looked at his hand and shrieked, shaking the blood from it. “See what she’s done to me?” he screamed.

Chapter Three

Chandrajuski cornered Mike in a corridor and shepherded him into a nearby conference room. It was just the two of them.

“What’s up, Admiral?” Mike asked as he stood beside the long conference table.

“We’re wasting time, that’s what’s up,” Chandrajuski stated, brooking no dispute as his long legs carried him to the far side of the table. He leaned over the table with his bright green head angled toward Mike. “Until the Queen is back on her feet, you’re the senior person here, and I’m next in line. Both of us have been sitting around for two whole days, just waiting, for what, I don’t know. We can’t afford idleness, and we can’t just wait around for the Queen to recover. Even after she’s out of the tank, she’ll need another month or two to get her strength back. I’m supposed to be developing a fighting force. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to be doing, but you’re not really accomplishing anything either.”

Mike frowned. “My thoughts exactly. This First Knight business is a little hazy to me; I’m not sure what I should be doing. I need to go to Earth, but the recruits I bring back need ships, and we need to make arrangements for their training. To do that, we need your men. I guess I’ve just been waiting for Ellie, I mean the Queen, to wake up and give me direction.” He paused in thought for a moment. “On a theoretical level, as First Knight I should be running the Empire in her absence. In reality, there’s nothing to run at the moment, nor would I know where to begin if there was. I thought you were busy preparing for an influx of ships and sailors.”

“What influx?”

“Serge could show up any day.”

“He’s weeks away, and my staff, provided he hasn’t shanghaied them somewhere along the way, is months away. It’s a good staff, and they don’t need me around to get things started. All I’ve been able to do so far is put Jons in charge of upgrading our ships. It’s not his forte, he’d rather have a squadron, but he made a lot of headway on his own while you were gone. He’s got the engineers working on plans that can be put in place as soon as Serge gives the okay.”

“The engineers are cooperating?”

“To a point. Drawings, craftsmen, and probably some parts will be available by the time Serge returns. It will be up to you and me to coerce Serge into giving his men the go-ahead. Jons’ immediate goal is to have things ready as soon as that happens.”

“He’s a good man. You say he got started on this on his own?”

“He did.”

“I’m impressed. What else is on your agenda?”

“Personally, I do not want the Queen waking up to find I’ve been idle. Besides, it’s not my way. I’m going on a trip.” Chandrajuski leaned across the table again, his wise, bright eyes meeting Mike’s. “Want to join me?”

“Why, and where?”

“You and I have a number of priorities. The Queen’s safety obviously tops the list. I believe Shipyard provides a reasonable level of safety for her at the moment, though we need to restore her complement of Protectors. I’m not sure how that’s best accomplished, but there aren’t any here. And you’re right; if we’re going to bring recruits from Earth, we have to prepare a place to train them. For the recruits who will work with her Protectors, it’s your problem, and it will be a difficult integration. For the ones going to the fleet, my men will make the preparations, but I have three other urgent priorities: intelligence, ships, and trained military personnel to operate them. All speak of more people. I’m going to see how successful Krys has been, and I could use your help.”

“I’d like to be here when the Queen wakes up.”

“So would I, but she can’t afford such luxuries right now. She needs us to do our jobs. With a fast ship, we can hit two or three worlds and be back in six months or so if all goes well. What do you say?”

Mike’s desire to be there to hold Ellie’s hand when she awoke was strong, but so was her need for him to help her restore the Empire. To do that, he needed to know more about the Empire and what was going on out there. He sorely missed Jake and the guidance he provided.

“Do you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” replied the Gamordian. Then in a lower voice, “Well, my men think I’m always acting according to a plan of some sort. In this case, I really do have a plan. There are three individuals I consider vital to our cause. One is a sector commander, another is a fleet commander, and the third is missing and may be dead. What I have in mind might be a long shot, but if we’re successful, we’ll come away with squadrons of ships and personnel. It’s even possible that these men have their sectors under control as we speak. If so, the Queen will have a true base of operations from which to expand her influence to more sectors.”

Chandrajuski backed away from the table to pace. Whenever he did so, Mike was reminded of his strong resemblance to a praying mantis. His long legs moved with incredible grace, then the whole body froze for a few moments. The process would repeat itself over and over. That was not to say Chandrajuski could not move fast. He could move very fast when it suited his purposes, but regardless of how slowly his body moved, his mind continued at full speed.

“These individuals, like me, have built commands based on loyalty to themselves in addition to loyalty to the crown. The Rebels will have a hard time gaining the upper hand in the two sectors I’m thinking about, but you can be certain they’re working on it. The sectors are key to both sides. We might already be too late, but I want to try. It’s not essential that you accompany me, but the presence of the First Knight will not only remove doubt, it will prove that the Queen is in control. What do you say? Will you go with me?”

“Yes,” Mike replied without hesitation. “My trip to Earth is critical, but certain things need to be in place first. When will you be ready to go?”

“Why wait? I can be ready in an hour.”

“Let me see to a few things. It won’t take long.” He went to the door, then turned back to face Chandrajuski. “You’ll be talking with other admirals?”

“I will.”

“And you’re recruiting them to work for you?”

“For me and the Queen, yes.”

“Then you need a higher rank. Is Grand Admiral the right rank?”

“I believe that’s what the Queen had in mind. There’s no hurry, though. I don’t have much of a command to be grand about yet.”

“But you will, and you have to be able to order these men.”

“That’s what you’re there for.”

“No, sir. I’ll just be there to add legitimacy to your leadership. If these men are to report to you, you must command from the very first moment. These conversations will not be among equals. If they were, you would simply be forming a larger unofficial underground like you had on Centauri III. The Queen no longer rules from obscurity, Admiral. She’s the legal ruler of the Empire, and you are her Grand Admiral. Understood?”

“Yes, Sire. It will be so. Give me two hours, no, three hours. I think I’ll make some adjustments to our plans, and I’ll get some things started for your eventual recruits.”

“I’m bringing Val along.”

“Whatever for? Isn’t First Knight enough weight to throw around?”

“It’s not because he’s a knight, it’s because of why he became a knight. He’s very, very good at everything I’ve asked of him, and I value his counsel, especially now that Jake is gone.”

Mike called Val and Reba to a meeting that he did not look forward to. Looking at Reba rather than Val, he announced, “Val is leaving with me in three hours. We’re going on a recruiting voyage with Chandrajuski. We’ll be back in a few months or so.”

Reba looked stricken, seeming to age before his eyes. Val, too, experienced a moment of resentment, but Mike also sensed his excitement. Reba looked deep into his eyes. “I won’t argue with you, Mike. All I ask is that it be necessary.”

“It’s necessary, and I believe it’s what Ellie needs of us right now. We can’t sit around doing nothing while she recovers. She needs us to be productive.”

“I can go with you.”

He shook his head. “No, I need you here. Ellie needs you by her side when she awakens, and I need to know that someone not susceptible to the Chessori mind weapon is here to protect her. You’ll be the only one on the planet that’s immune.”

Reba looked away, then focused on Val. Her eyes filled to the brim with tears, but she rose to the occasion. “You can’t hide it from me, Val. You’re excited for the first time in days. Go get packed.”

Val took off like a shot. Reba turned back to Mike. “He’s bored, not with me but with the inactivity. So am I. Got anything for me to do?”

“Yes. Keep an eye on Ellie.”

“You already said that. Anything else?”

“Think about what I just said, Reba. Do you remember Lieutenant Rebecca Morrison, lately of Earth? She’s now Lady Rebecca, the Queen of All Space’s senior representative here. She’s on an alien planet, right in the middle of a war, and she has no one of higher authority to turn to other than herself. I think you’ve been promoted.”

She wiped a last tear from eyes that had suddenly gone dry. “Is that what it’s been like for you?” she asked softly.

“To some extent, and I’ve been feeling guilty about doing nothing. I’m glad Chandrajuski brought me to my senses.”

“Remember when we were training as a crew on Earth? And remember what happened when I had George remove you from the crew?”

“It was a disaster. Everything came to a standstill.”

“That’s what’s happened to us here, but instead of you being removed, it’s Ellie. I didn’t realize it until just now, but we’ve graduated to a new phase of this war. We’re not just one ship anymore. We have truly moved into the realm of politics. You captained a craft of the state, but she’s captaining the craft of state now, and we’ve come to a standstill without her leadership.”

“And as on Earth,” he said, continuing the thought, “we’re over the shock and struggling to get things going again. I saw the inefficiency then, and I see it now. We’re stumbling along until she gets back in the saddle.”

“Yet we’re all leaders, titles or no. We can get things moving in the right direction without her, we’re just not as efficient.” Her eyes rose to the ceiling in thought, then she turned her gaze back to him. “You’ll miss her, but she’ll miss you more when she finds you gone. I know she’d like to wake up to your touch.”

“I’m counting on you to be there in my place. Give her whatever support she needs, just be there. And while you’re waiting, see if you can come up with a plan to recruit more Protectors. We’re desperately short-handed. And we need to design a training program for the trainees from Earth, assuming we can pull that off.”

“Yes, Sire. I might be able to get us started on some other things, as well. I’d better check on Val. He probably needs help packing.”

Mike, Val, and Chandrajuski met at the bottom of the entrance ramp to Resolve. Mike hid his surprise at the choice of ship, but Chandrajuski offered an explanation. “I had planned to take a fast scout, just the two of us, but after what you said, this makes more sense. The ship itself will add legitimacy to our positions. It might also complicate things, but in the end it will be worth it.”

Turning to Sir Val, he said, “I barely know you. Are you ready to get underway?”

“It’s just the three of us?” Val asked in surprise.

“No, I’ve borrowed some men from Jons’ squadron. We have enough to man all stations. I hope you don’t mind handling the conn when it’s your turn?”

“Not at all, Admiral.”

“Good, because you’re also Resolve’s captain on this voyage. I can give you ten minutes to assure yourself the ship is ready. Set course for Aldebaran I as soon as you can.”

“Yes, sir!” Val headed up the steps at a dead run.

“You know, Admiral,” Mike said with a grin, “as a Knight of the Realm, he outranks you.”

“I know that, but he doesn’t. Come on. You supposedly know your way around Resolve. Show me where my cabin is.”

* * * * *

Later, Mike found himself on the bridge out of old habit. Resolve was already underway with Val in Mike’s old command seat. He and the two other pilots were engrossed in the net, probably computing a micro jump. Sure enough, moments later the screens blanked as they jumped. The screens refreshed in a moment, then they jumped again. And again. In no time at all they settled into the first long jump, after which one pilot and Val took a break. Val removed his helmet and rubbed tired eyes before discovering Mike sitting quietly in a crew seat before one of the active screens.

“Hi, Mike. Feel at home?”

Mike smiled. “Not exactly. This is better. My time aboard Resolve was anything but relaxing.”

“So I’ve heard. Do you realize you’ve probably made more jumps manually than anyone else in the galaxy? Would you like to set up the next one?”

“Heaven forbid we ever get to that point again. I’ll pitch in wherever you assign me, as pilot, cook, or repairman. Do you realize,” he said in embarrassment, “I’ve never landed a ship?”

A look of astonishment came over Val’s face, then a glint found its way to his eyes. “Maybe not, but you’ve crashed them into the ocean a few times.”

“Ugh. You had to remind me.”

“I’d be happy to assist you through our landings.”

“We’ll see. Things might get a little tense when we arrive. They have a habit of doing that around us.”

“That they do.” A little sheepishly, Val said, “You know, I never imagined I’d be the captain of this ship. For me, it’s like . . . the ultimate.”

“This ship was really the beginning of the rest of your life, wasn’t it?”

“I guess it was. What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know. I’ll try to scrape something up. Any idea what Gamordians eat?”

* * * * *

Their arrival at Aldebaran I came off without a hitch. Resolve broadcast a completely fictitious beacon code just in case the Rebels had taken charge of the sector. They emerged from hyperspace to find a large number of Chessori traders scattered through the system, and Mike stayed in the net as much as he could, ready to take over if necessary. Val set up a tight beam transmission to Admiral Harold Seeton, Fleet Commander, a human and an old classmate of Chandrajuski’s.

Chandrajuski met Seeton at the ramp and escorted him to the conference room where Mike and Val waited. It didn’t take long to get down to the purpose of their visit.

“How’s business, Harry?” Chandrajuski inquired.

“We’re basically locked down, just trying to keep the peace. How about you? I thought you’d been arrested?”

“I was rescued.”

“Rescued!” Seeton peered hard at Chandrajuski. “You were imprisoned, and now you’re a grand admiral traveling with two Knights. Please tell me you’re not here on Struthers’ behalf.”

Chandrajuski’s neck stretched across the table toward Seeton. “You know me better than that, Harry.”

Seeton let out a long sigh, then his eyes crinkled into a smile of triumph. “We know each other well, my friend. I got your message.”

He turned his head to Val. “Your sister was alive and well when we last met.”

Val stood abruptly. “She was here? How long ago, Admiral?”

“Two months. The formalities, Sire, if you will.”

Val removed a Pin from his pocket and passed it across the table. Seeton stared at the Pin for a long time, his eyes brimming. His hand shook slightly as he picked up the Pin. He couldn’t open it, though in fairness, he didn’t try very hard. He had been clinging to hope for two months and was afraid to lose it. Visions were one thing; the reality of a Knight of the Realm was quite another.

He handed the Pin back to Val. “Do you have the slightest comprehension of what this Pin means, Sire?”

Val looked hard into his eyes. “It means everything. Opening this Pin is a test of me, but how do we test you?”

“Open the Pin, Sire, and I’ll provide proof.”

Val opened the Pin, and Ellie’s countenance shone forth. Seeton stared, his hopes fulfilled. “She spoke true, Sire.”

Mike pulled the pendant from under his shirt, but Seeton held up a hand. “That vision was for another, Sire.”

Mike sighed and looked up to the ceiling. “Not again,” he groaned.

“Sire?”

“Never mind. You said something about proof?”

Seeton lifted a communicator to his mouth. “You can come in now.”

Blasters immediately sprung into Mike and Val’s hands. Seeton regarded them, then turned to Chandrajuski. “A friend comes. Only one. There is no threat.”

A crewmember escorted a man into the lounge, then left. For the first time since Mike had known Chandrajuski, he found him at a loss for words.

“Greetings, my friend,” Governor Veswicki said to him.

Chandrajuski stepped around the table and batted fists with Veswicki, his mouth open in his ferocious smile. “I am truly pleased, Governor.” He turned to Seeton. “You promised proof, and you delivered, Harry.” Blasters disappeared back into holsters.

Veswicki looked to Val and bowed. “I see the resemblance, Sire. You can be proud of her.”

“How is she?”

“She seemed well, very well, considering.” He turned to Mike and faced him squarely, then bowed. “You would be our First Knight, Sire?”

Mike hesitated. He was not pleased, not pleased at all that he was known to this man. What other visions had Krys had of him? Veswicki’s expectant look turned into a look of confusion. He turned to Seeton with raised eyebrows.

Seeton, too, seemed confused. “Uh, now would be appropriate, Sire.”

Mike again pulled out the pendant and placed it on the table. He brushed his hand across the surface, and the bright hologram of Ellie shone forth. Veswicki leaned forward and picked up the pendant, not for examination but for pleasure.

“We’re honored that you came to us, Sire.” He stared hard at Mike, and Mike sensed the question.

“We have not met, Governor, nor will you find a record of me anywhere in the Empire. May I ask who you are?”

“You don’t know? I’m the governor of Triton Sector.”

“Hmm. Past or present?”

“Both, Sire. I do not recognize Struthers’ authority to remove me.”

“Well said, Governor. Neither does the Queen.”

“How is she?”

“Mending.”

“Mending!”

Chandrajuski spoke. “She’s had a difficult time since the coup, Signio. It’s a long story. Let me just say that Sir Mike has been with her through most of it. Without him, the last of the Chosen would be dead. The same can be said of Sir Val.”

Veswicki and Seeton each bent to one knee, their heads bowed deeply toward the two Knights. Veswicki spoke for both of them. “The Queen lives. We are at your command, Sires.”

“Then rise. We have work to do,” Mike commanded.

Veswicki rose and looked hard at Mike. “Just who are you, Sire?”

Mike looked to Chandrajuski who said, “You can trust both of them.”

Mike turned back to Veswicki and Seeton. “I don’t trust many, and you have not been Tested. Who I am is not important. Know that the Queen trusts the three of us implicitly. You know Admiral Chandrajuski’s background, and Sir Val was a fleet officer before being Named. As for me, you would be well served to assume I know very little about your empire.”

“Sire?”

“I’m from an emerging world, Governor.”

Veswicki stepped back in confusion. Mike took a seat, and Val and Seeton followed suit, but Veswicki remained standing.

Chandrajuski stepped in. “He’s from an emerging world, Signio, a world without space travel, but he brought her 800 light years without an AI, all manually. He’s fought multiple engagements with the Rebels and Chessori, and she’s alive because of it. He was mortally wounded while protecting her and only survived because he carried a Rider. If that’s not enough, he sent his Rider into her body, bringing her back to life after a gleason’s knife went into her heart. I saw it with my own eyes, and I saw him test a potential antidote to the gleason’s poison on himself before we gave it to the Queen. I think it fair to say that, despite what Struthers did, the position of First Knight has been fully restored.”

Seeton and Veswicki again went to a knee before Mike. He frowned. “Each of us in this room has faced equal demands on our lives, and we will face equally terrible choices in the months and years to come,” he said. “We do these things for the good of the Empire. You have remained true to your oaths, and I thank you in the Queen’s name. Rise, gentlemen, and let us get back to work. We’re in this together until the very end.”

They rose, and Veswicki went to stand before Mike. “Sire, the Empire will be forever in your debt. I stand willing and anxious to serve the Queen. I stand willing and anxious to serve you, as well.”

Veswicki turned away and paced for a time. When he turned back to Mike, he said, “I would hear your story, First Knight. Clearly, you’re a survivor, and just as clearly, you’re a fast learner. Before that, though, I must ask if you fully understand what you’ve given us?”

“I believe I do, but I’m also a good listener. Why don’t you enlighten me.”

“Imagine if you will, Sire, a rope bridge crossing an abyss. Immediately after the coup, Harry, me, Chandrajuski, and all the Empire leadership suddenly found ourselves stranded on that bridge. The ropes are fraying and will not hold much longer. We’re much closer to the side of the Rebel politicians – it’s easier and quicker to head their way – but for some of us, most of us I hope, our principles and ethics beckon from the far side. Now, with the gift you’ve given us, we discover the Queen standing on that far side beside those principles.

“The decision is easy for us, Sire, and it will be clear to many others as well, but we have to move briskly if we are not to fall into the abyss.”

His lips pursed with concern. “We were almost ready to move here in Aldebaran Sector before Krys’ arrival. We can deal with the Rebels, but not the Chessori. She warned us about them, thankfully, but we don’t have any kind of plan for dealing with them yet.”

“How much do you know about the Chessori?” Mike asked.

“We know as much as she knows, including what happened at Dorwall and during her missions. We know they have some sort of mind weapon. She’s convinced us to keep our distance from them.”

Alarm filled Val’s eyes. “She’s had run-ins with them? How did she survive?”

“Her Great Cats manage to function, Sire. She acquired a changeable beacon along the way, so she’ll show up as a different ship everywhere she goes. Her hope is that the changeable beacon will extend her mission. The risk now is if she’s identified during her stops. She can’t change the beacon until she’s out of the system.”

“Where did she get the means to modify her beacon?” Chandrajuski asked. “It wasn’t from me.”

“From Korban.”

Chandrajuski’s mouth opened into a grin again. “She’s working down the list, and it appears she’s been as convincing as I’d hoped. I should have given her the modification before I sent her out. My mistake. I’m glad Korban rectified it.”

Val leaned back into his chair, his eyes just slits. “Admiral Seeton, you have a new governor here. Have you been ordered to accept any Chessori as crewmembers?”

“I’ve been ordered to train them, Sire. The Chessori have brought a large number of their own military crews for the process. Since they’re already trained to their own standards, I was ordered to compare those standards with our own by placing them in active positions aboard ships. I have not complied, nor will I.”

“How can you not comply?”

“I have informed the sector commander that it is illegal for me to recruit from outside the Empire. If they ever become members of the Empire, I’ll insist they pass muster at an Academy. Following that, I’ll have to think of something else. They’re not getting on my ships.”

“I served on a ship with a mixed crew, sir. I believe it was one of the first. I can tell you that a small number of Chessori took over the ship without a fight. They activated their mind weapon long enough to secure those of us who would not support the Rebels, then they turned it off. The regular crew resumed control of the ship, but only so long as the Chessori allowed.”

Seeton and Veswicki both looked ill. “The rest of the crew went back to business as usual after that?” Seeton demanded.

“I was in the brig, but I believe they did, sir. If you’re a Rebel, and if the Chessori are on your side, what’s a little pain compared to a sure win? Do not ever let even one of them on your ships, sir.”

* * * * *

“I get the feeling you’ve been organizing something?” Chandrajuski asked later. “It’s time you brought us up-to-date.”

Veswicki spoke for himself and Seeton. “Before Krys’ visit, we were considering going rogue.” Mike’s eyebrows rose, but Veswicki didn’t apologize. “Sire, we knew the Chosen were all dead. Our choices were to cave into Struthers, or attempt to resurrect some kind of structure based on Empire standards. His way is wrong.”

He glanced at Chandrajuski, then back to Mike. “So was ours, Sire.”

Mike sat back and nodded. He and Chandrajuski had had this same conversation, though Veswicki didn’t know it.

“Our models showed both plans, his and ours, ultimately failing. Our plan at least had a chance. It would give us time, time to look for the right charismatic leader, or perhaps some other mechanism as yet unknown, that would provide acceptable leadership to the multitude of worlds and races throughout the Empire. None of us is that right leader. Our plan was to buy time.”

He looked to Chandrajuski. “Your plan to hold was just the right message to send. It has bought us time, time we’ll use to prepare. Struthers can never claim to have the Touch. Use of the Touch is universally recognized and accepted as the court of final appeal. No one has ever successfully argued against the political power of her Touch.”

Chandrajuski nodded, and Veswicki continued. “Of the 47 sectors, I believe I speak for seven, and several more will likely join with us if we can move before the sector commanders are forced to flee. If we combine our efforts with Krys’ efforts, I believe the number will be higher.”

“How many has she reached, and what is her success rate?” Chandrajuski asked.

“We were her ninth stop. Seven sectors were receptive and two were not. Her contacts there were dead. But it’s not just her, Admiral. She’s recruited others, including Buskin. When they last met, they both agreed that he should break up his two squadrons, sending ships out on individual missions. They, in turn, would network others. If they have been even marginally successful, her message might have reached all the sectors by now.”

Chandrajuski’s eyes gleamed. “Then she’s gone far beyond the assignment I gave her. Have you heard from Buskin?”

Veswicki shook his head. “Not a word. She gave us a location, but we haven’t followed up on it yet. He can’t fight the Chessori any more than we can, and we’re not planning to join him as recruits. We’re going to hold, and we’re going to resist.”

Veswicki paused, then added, “Struthers has to know what she’s up to by now. Secrets can’t survive when so many know. They’ll find Buskin eventually. We just have to act before the Rebels do.”

“He’ll find Krys, too. Struthers has known for a long time,” Val said softly. “You said she’s had some encounters with the Chessori. What they know, he knows. I’m certain of it.”

“We can’t move against the Chessori, Sire,” Veswicki said.

“We’re developing a plan to deal with them,” Mike informed him. “It’s my problem, not yours. You’ll have to wait a little longer, maybe as much as a year. Are you strong enough here to hold that long?”

“Sire, it might be all over by then. Certainly we won’t have more than two or three years. The Chessori are an immediate problem, but the Imperial Senate is the most pressing problem.”

“Why?”

“When Struthers next convenes the Imperial Senate, he will attempt to cement the legality of his government. He’ll present a motion stipulating that the Chosen are dead and that his government is the new government.”

Veswicki stared at his new First Knight for a time before saying, “If that motion is approved by the Senate, he’s won, Sire. His government will be the only legitimate government in control of the Empire. He would brand us as Rebels, and we could legitimately be prosecuted as such, including the Queen.”

Veswicki directed his gaze upon each of them in turn, his eyes burning with passion. ”Until learning from Krys that we have a Queen, I had seen no possible way to stop Struthers from succeeding with his motion. The few Imperial Senators within the sectors I am pulling together would not be enough to prevail against the rest of the Senate. But now! We have a Queen from the line of Chosen. Her very existence is the club we can wield before the Senate. I don’t know how we, or she, will do it, but she has to convince the Senate that she is a contender. There is not a more important task before us. We cannot allow Struthers and his Rebels to be legitimized.

“Admiral, Sires, our first priority is to prevent that motion from passing, or even from being introduced if possible. From a political standpoint, that first convocation of the Senate would be the perfect time to prove to the Senators that the Queen rules, even if it is in absentia. Senator Truax is attempting to organize the Senate against Struthers. His task is equally important to ours.”

“Krys was able to recruit him?” Chandrajuski asked.

“She was, and he’s off with a list of his own to recruit other senators. It was another masterful stroke, sir.”

“I wish I could take credit, but it was her idea. What resources have been provided to Truax?”

“I don’t know. Krys doesn’t know. I’ve been searching for him, but I have not found him yet. Krys dropped him off on  Mitala I. All she knows is that his original plan was to use civilian cruise ships to get around.”

“That’s too slow,” Chandrajuski growled.

“But safer than military ships. His contacts will, if he’s successful, spread out to reach other senators. I, too, have dispatched messengers to Imperial Senators. His contacts and mine are small in number, but the numbers will increase and pick up momentum on their own as time goes by.”

Veswicki’s lips pursed and his eyes narrowed with excitement as he considered his next words. “Struthers’ motion will never pass if enough senators believe the Queen is alive and well. Truax and I are spreading the word, but it’s our word against Struthers. There will be some doubt. If we can find a way to prove to the Senate that the Queen rules, Struthers’ movement will lose all legitimacy. He’ll be finished. Is there a way?”

“You might be encouraged to know that the Queen has reached the same conclusion,” Mike replied. “We don’t have a plan yet, and quite frankly, it seems impossibly difficult at the moment, but that’s why we’re here. We’ll find a way, but first she needs an infrastructure to support her. What support can you provide?”

“If we can deal with the Chessori, I can have a core of perhaps ten sectors fully under control by the time Struthers calls the senate into convocation, at least in name,” Veswicki answered.

“What do you mean by ‘fully under control?’” Chandrajuski asked. “Sectors are barely under control even in the best of times.”

Veswicki’s expression hardened. “There will be clear separation of Rebel versus Empire control, that’s what I mean . . .”

Mike let the experts deal with resources. He had other things on his mind. Just listening to Veswicki and Seeton had widened his horizons immensely. He now truly understood what Otis had been telling him all along: their first job was to protect the Heir. Nothing else mattered if the Heir died. Just listening to the two admirals discuss issues with Chandrajuski clearly demonstrated what having a Queen meant to these men. It meant everything, as simple as that. Everything.

And this was just one sector. He could multiply this sense of rightness many times over as the message traveled from one end of the Empire to the other.

He suddenly understood the power of Chandrajuski’s plan for Krys. She wasn’t just spreading the word that there was a Queen. Her assignment was to weave threads through the Empire, threads that would be turned over to Ellie. When Ellie took over the weaving, the Rebels’ days would be limited.

* * * * *

Before leaving, Chandrajuski made some demands. “I have a temporary base that is adequate until you secure your sectors. Until then, I need ships, men, supplies, and support, as much as you can spare, and in the Queen’s name I ask that you send your best. How many ships can you spare?”

“You don’t want me to risk losing the sectors, do you?” Veswicki asked.

“Definitely not. We must protect our infrastructure.”

Seeton spoke up. “Let me model it before I commit. Off the top of my head, I’d say I could spare ten heavy squadrons, and a lot more after we make our move and consolidate the sector politically.”

“See if you can make it thirty, Harry. What about you, Signio? Can I count on support from the other sectors?”

“Definitely. I won’t commit without their approval, but we’ll scrape together as many as we can. I assume we’re talking about hardship duty.”

“We are. Until the Queen can move out into one of the sectors, I cannot support dependents.”

“What can the Queen do for you?” Mike asked.

Veswicki spoke immediately. “We need regular communications, and I am requesting a summons from the Queen for myself and my senior commanders.”

“She’ll want to Test you, but she’s not up to it yet. Multiple Testings take a lot of energy, energy that she won’t have for a while. I’ll let you know when she’s ready. Until then, you have Admiral Chandrajuski’s support, and that means you have hers.”

“You mentioned something about gleasons, Sire.”

Chandrajuski answered. “Struthers has recruited them.”

“How?”

“I don’t have a clue. There were three of them. Her Protectors took them out, but not before the last one threw a poisoned knife into her heart.”

“And she’s still alive?” Veswicki demanded.

“To make a long story short, Sir Mike killed the last gleason, then sent his Rider to the Queen. The Rider is repairing her injuries as we speak.”

Veswicki turned away, then turned back to Mike. He stared hard at him, but he addressed everyone within the room. “The Chosen have never carried Riders. Does anyone know what effect the Rider will have on her being Queen? Will her Touch still work?”

“We won’t know until she’s strong enough to try,” Chandrajuski said. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. If her Testing fails, she might be able to rid herself of the Rider. If all fails, we still have Alexis who will be named Daughter if she passes her Testing. The circle of those who know about this must remain very small. Understood?”

Solemn heads nodded agreement. “I will inform you when the Queen is ready to Test each of you. She may even come here to do it. That will be her decision.”

“Where are you off to next?” asked Veswicki.

“Admiral Korban is my next stop. You three will be my top commanders.”

“You’re wasting your time if you think you’ll get any help from him,” Veswicki responded. “He’s up to his eyeballs just trying to hold Orion Sector together. He’s in Struthers’ sights, and they’re going after him hard.”

Chandrajuski thought for a time, considering options. “I’d love to teach Struthers a lesson,” he finally said. “Can we offer any support to Korban?”

“We already sent a couple of courier ships. When neither returned, we sent a full squadron. Not a single ship has returned,” Seeton said. “We’re on the verge of declaring the squadron lost.”

“It has to be the Chessori,” Val said. “In addition to their mind weapon, they have some other advantages we do not have. They can track through hyperspace, and they have an interstellar communicator. Beware.”

Veswicki and Seeton looked at each other in alarm. Seeton said, “A dispatch was received from our lost squadron. It, too, claimed a trader tracked them through hyperspace.”

“A Chessori tracked me through hyperspace,” Mike said, “though they’re not actually tracking during the jump. Someone had placed a mechanism aboard our ship that broadcast our jump settings just prior to each jump, so they’re really tracking only during the intervals between jumps. I wonder if any of your ships have been compromised?”

Seeton frowned. “We’ll have to check. What do we look for?”

“I don’t know, but I know who does. We’ll get the information to you.”

“Whatever develops here or anywhere else,” Chandrajuski said, “the Chessori, and hence the Rebels, will know about it if we allow them the opportunity to get a message out. Timing will be everything when we make our moves, and because of the Chessori, we’re not going to be able to move simultaneously in all sectors. It’s going to be one at a time.”

“Sir, we can’t fight on these grounds.”

“You’re not fighting, not yet. You’re holding. Your job will be to defeat the Rebels, and you’re well focused on that, but you can’t act yet. Sir Mike’s job is to defeat the Chessori, and we have a plan. There is a way to defeat the mind weapon, but it’s not something I can discuss. Just know there’s a plan that will take some months to put together.”

He added one more consideration for Veswicki. “Are you ready to give up your position here?”

“Definitely not. I’ve just gotten started.”

“You’d better be looking for your replacement during the next few months. The insight you’ve shown me with your understanding of the big picture is impressive, much better than my own. The Queen does not have access to a lot of political advice right now. She might want you at her side. She’ll let you know.”

Chapter Four

Getting help from Earth suddenly moved up on the list of priorities. Struthers had a timetable. Though they didn’t know its details, it most likely included demonstrating to the Imperial Senate that he was capable of taking control of those sectors that resisted. Chandrajuski was determined to do the same in the Queen’s name, and Orion Sector looked to be the place to do it.

In the end, among many other things it was decided that Val would pay a visit to Admiral Korban by himself. His mission, though extremely dangerous, was crucial: in addition to bringing hope to Korban, he was to determine what had happened to Seeton’s lost squadron and what assistance Korban needed to keep his sector out of the hands of the Rebels.

Mike and Chandrajuski would return to Shipyard, first gathering up any Protectors or Guardians they could find here on Aldebaran I to guard the Queen.

Mike would hasten his departure to Earth. While he was gone, Chandrajuski would organize a training regimen for the recruits from Earth in addition to his myriad other chores of organizing the Queen’s armed resistance to the Rebels.

“Thank you for not telling them about Serge’s fast ships,” Chandrajuski commented to Mike during their return to Shipyard. George had turned off his beacon a week after departure, and their signature had dropped from the screens at Seeton’s headquarters. Because of that, they were able to fast-ship the rest of the way.

“No sense getting their hopes up until Serge agrees to provide the science and engineering,” Mike answered. “We definitely need it. We’re in the hole when it comes to new discoveries to combat that communications ability of the Chessori. If they really have it, Struthers has access to it, and don’t for a moment think those kinds of things are insignificant. On Earth, major battles, even whole wars have been won or lost because one side suddenly gained a slight advantage. But bringing Earthmen to the front lines, if we can pull it off in time, provides us with a huge club against the Chessori. I just hope we can keep their knowledge of our source, Earth, a secret. It won’t be easy. As soon as my people show up in the fleet, everyone will know.”

“Then maybe we should lie about where they come from. Where would you like to be from?”

Mike smiled. “I couldn’t care less. Somewhere that won’t suffer when the Rebels find out. I can readily see them decimating some poor, innocent world out there.”

“We’ll have to do some homework on that one. Maybe we can have your men wear a special trinket or something that leads everyone to believe we’ve found a technological solution to the psi weapon.”

Mike brightened. “Great idea. Anyone with the trinket will be immune, no matter where they’re from.”

“We’ll have to claim it only works for humans at the moment,” Chandrajuski grumbled.

* * * * *

When they arrived on Shipyard, Ellie didn’t wait for Mike to find her. She boarded Resolve the moment the ramp touched the ground. With Jessie and Reba at her side, she threw her arms around him, clearly not caring who observed.

“Welcome back, my love,” she whispered into his ear.

“Welcome home, you mean,” Mike corrected. She pressed closer.

Serge came strolling up the ramp soon after with his hands in his pockets, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You’re back early. More bad news?”

“Some good and some bad,” Chandrajuski responded. “The good news is very good. The bad is about what we figured. Did you bring my ships back with you?”

“Yes, and no,” Serge replied. “After a lot of bickering, I caved in and brought the ships to Parsons’ World. Shipyard is, and must remain, a closely guarded secret. I brought Jeffers all the way.”

“Hmm. You may have to put up with more bickering from me.”

“I know. But once the location of Shipyard is out, it cannot be undone. I’m not as worried about the damage to my business as you might think, it’s just that Shipyard is a diamond in the rough, especially right now. Is it necessary for you to have your headquarters here? Seems to me that Parsons’ World, or even somewhere else, might work just as well.”

“We’ll give it some thought, Serge. Thanks for what you’ve done. You’ve made good decisions, and I know they weren’t easy.”

“You’re welcome, and they weren’t. My men will exact a price, but I’m with you all the way on this.”

“Does that mean you’ll give us fast ships?”

Serge rolled his eyes. “I knew that one was coming. I will not make that choice by myself.”

“Understood,” Chandrajuski agreed, nodding his head. To Ellie, he said, “I’m convening a staff meeting. Are you up to it, Your Majesty?”

“It’s all set up. We’re just waiting on you.”

* * * * *

Reba, clearly disappointed that Val had not returned with them, remained quiet during the meeting. When it ended, Ellie ushered Mike into her quarters. She was accompanied by Jessie and another Great Cat unfamiliar to Mike.

“Michael, let me introduce Ralph, Otis’ replacement,” Ellie said.

Mike’s eyebrows lifted. “His replacement?”

“He has removed himself from the roll of my Protector. The damage to his body is not completely healed, and it might never be. He is ‘slowed,’ which might be to our advantage. He has more important duties as a Knight. He waited until you entered Shipyard’s system, then left immediately for Brodor. You’ll have your Guardians.”

“How many?”

“As many as you need. All of them, if that’s what you want. Brodor will terminate as many contracts as it takes. It will take time, but it’s his problem.”

“Won’t that leave them undefended?”

Ellie turned to Ralph, who answered. “Our commitment to the Queen is strong, Sire. We will not hesitate to risk all, if that is what it takes, but Brodor will not be undefended. Everyone there is a survivor, not just the Guardians and Protectors.”

He bowed to Mike. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Sire.”

“Welcome aboard, Ralph. The Queen’s Protectors do not bow to anyone, least of all me.”

“We don’t have to bow, Sire, but you’ve earned it. Jessie briefed me on your activities. My people thank you.”

Mike bowed to Ralph. “I would know your full name.”

“My true name is Rllapllptshsdt, Sire. Don’t even try. It doesn’t work in Galactic High Standard, nor can your body produce the proper sounds. Ralph is my working name, and it works fine.”

“I guess it will have to. Are you a Protector?”

“I am.”

“Otis called me a cub. You’re welcome to do the same. All of the Brotherhood has earned the right,” Mike said with a smile.

“I thank you on their behalf, Sire. Jessie is also a Protector now.”

Mike’s eyebrows rose as he turned to her. “Congratulations, Jessie. I saw you try to take the knife into your own body. You’ve earned the promotion and my gratitude.”

“Thank you, Sire. Can I call you cub, as well?” she asked, showing all her fangs in a smile. Mike, smiling in return, just nodded his head.

“She was not elevated because of the knife, Sire,” Ralph added. “It was because of her performance against the gleasons. She and Otis are the only two of the Brotherhood who have stood against gleasons and lived. I hope there is no recurrence.”

“So do I, Ralph, but there might be. You were both in the meeting and you know the stakes. I believe quite strongly that every possible effort will be made by the Rebels to find and kill the Queen, and that could include sending gleasons if they find us. I won’t complain if you go overboard in protecting her, even if she complains.”

He turned to Ellie. “I mean that. There’s no single thing of greater importance to Struthers than ending the line of Chosen. I saw with my own eyes what’s happening out there under the mistaken impression that the Chosen are no more. For the sake of your Empire, you can no longer take risks like you took on Gamma VI and Centauri III.”

“I know. Like you, I’m learning. I was still thinking as Daughter then, not Queen. As Queen, my life is no longer my own to risk.”

“There is some question that, because of accepting a Rider, you might have lost the Touch. Have you?”

Her eyes took on a hooded look. “I haven’t tried. It might be better not to know just yet.”

Mike took her head in both of his hands and looked deep into her eyes. “Your realm must know, Your Majesty. Test your First Knight.” He released her.

She put her arms around him, mumbling into his shoulder, “I’m afraid.”

He held her for a time, then pushed her out to arms length. His gaze insisted. She took his head in her hands and looked into his eyes. Nothing happened. She let go, frightened and confused.

“You’re looking at me as me, Ellie,” he said gruffly. “Try again, but look at me like I’m someone you’ve determined must be Tested. And it’s time to Test me anyway. I’ve been away. Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe I’ve found someone else to love.”

This time her eyes swelled, and he willingly became her subject. He was no longer afraid of her knowing everything there was to know about him, not that he had any say in the matter. As before, she was totally in command. When she released him, she stood back, her smile filling him with relief.

“Ralph, Jessie, we’d like some privacy,” she said.

“We’ll be just outside the door, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you, Ralph.” She stood back from Mike, studying him. “Thank you, First Knight. That was a thorough Testing. Sorry, there are few secrets in your life now.” Smiling again, she said, “And I sensed the strong need uppermost in your mind, but something else comes first. I have a present for you.”

He blushed, knowing what she had sensed from him. “Uh, oh. I didn’t stop to shop.”

“I would hope not. Come here.”

She took him in her arms and ran her hands along his waist, pulling the back of his shirt up until her hands caressed his back.

“Uh, Ellie . . .?”

“Hush, this will only take a moment.”

Suddenly, Jake was there. >Hi, Man! I’m back!<

“Jake!” he yelled aloud. Ellie still held tight to him.

>Don’t move, you idiot. I’m not all the way in yet.<

>Are you back to stay?<

>If you’ll have me.<

>I’ll have you. Welcome home. It didn’t work out with Ellie?<

>Does she look unhappy?<

>No. I’m surprised you’d leave, though.<

>She wants to be the one to tell you.<

“Tell me what?” he spoke aloud, leaning back to get a better look at Ellie.

“Jake had another child,” she offered softly. “Her name is Cassandra.”

Mike’s mouth dropped open. “Is it working?”

“Hmm,” Ellie murmured. “She’s wonderful. And intelligent. And my second best friend.”

“She hasn’t taken my place, then?”

Ellie just leaned into him, squeezing harder. “And now you’re leaving me again.”

“Sorry. I’d rather stay. Should I send Reba by herself?”

“No. The two of you have to go. Your mission is critical. I am not inclined to die twice at the hands of the Chessori. By the way, Celine also fissioned. She is back with Reba, and Otis has a Rider of his own.”

>Okay, Mike. I’m in.<

Mike suddenly felt whole again. He stepped away from Ellie and closed his eyes. >Welcome home, my friend.<

>Home sweet home, and it’s all mine again, finally. I have to stop having offspring that stick around.<

>I think she needed the extra help. Is she really all better?<

>No, but Cassandra has things well in hand.<

Mike felt Ellie’s hands go around his waist. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him from inches away, her eyes his whole world.

“Has Jake told you what’s coming next?”

“Uh, no.”

She put her arms around his neck, stood on her toes, and kissed him on the lips, a long, warm, inviting kiss. “I’m what’s next, if you’ll have me,” she breathed, leaning back slightly, still staring into his eyes.

Mike blinked, then closed his eyes. “Not fair. You Tested me. You know how I feel.”

“I do know.” She stepped away slightly and unbuttoned a button on her blouse, then another, revealing the soft swell of a breast. Her eyes took on a distant look, a sweet look.

“Wait, Ellie,” he said, taking her back into his arms.

She smiled. “You cannot command the Queen. And my realm desperately needs to restore the Chosen. There’s only one way to do that. Must I beg?”

“Never,” he said. “But I’m selfish. I want all of you, not just a part of you.”

“What part of me have I not offered?”

“The part that calls you the Queen of All Space and me a man from an emerging world. You told me once that the Chosen do not marry for love.”

Her gaze hardened. “They don’t carry Riders or enter ships nets, either. I know your customs. Test my commitment.”

He stared long into her eyes, then lowered himself to one knee. “I love you, Ellie. Will you marry me?”

She sunk down to both knees in front of him, taking both of his hands in her own, very focused. “Remember the words of the Leaf People?”

“How could I forget?”

“Say them.”

Looking into her eyes, he repeated the words from Val’s story. “The Knight will stand with you. Lean on him, love him if you will, but hear him well, for he holds the keys. Your talents are nothing without the keys.”

She nodded. “The Leaf People were right, Michael. My talents are nothing without the keys.”

She looked at his hands, separating them and feeling them, rubbing her fingers across them possessively. “These are the hands of the man of dirt. The dirt of your ancestors has sifted through these fingers. So, too, have the stars of our realm. These hands have fought for me, they have held me, and when I fell to the gleason’s knife, they literally held the keys to a kingdom.”

She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them, staring into his eyes. “I am Queen, and I rule, but when it comes to our love, I kneel before you. I am your woman, you are my man. I love you, Michael, and yes, I will marry you in accordance with your customs.”

“Uh, we’re talking about a few hundred more years here, Ellie.”

“We’re talking about a lifetime, however long that is. My heart is settled on this score, so don’t try to weasel your way out of it. The decree is already drawn up. You just have to add your signature to mine.”

“You planned this?”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve been planning it for a long time.”

“I had visions of trumpets and thousands of people. I’ve been scared to death to ask.”

A wizened look came to her face. “Once, that would have been the process. We’re building anew from the ashes. I am Queen, and I intend to make some changes. Now will you come to me?”

* * * * *

As they walked arm in arm toward the dining room the next morning, he asked her, “Does this mean I’m no longer First Knight?”

“You’ve always been more than First Knight, Michael. You’re the Knight. Never forget. Until this crisis is over, the Empire needs a First Knight more than it needs a king. I don’t see how you can be First Knight when you’re King, but I want you to continue as First Knight. And when the time comes, you’ll have a say in who your replacement will be.”

Mike stopped dead in his tracks, looking straight ahead. “Stop this about ‘King.’ I’m no king. I think the official title is ‘consort,’ is it not?”

She took his arm possessively and continued down the hallway. “Sorry, Michael, it doesn’t work that way here. You’re now officially King. You rule beside me.”

He pulled her to a stop. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking, or that we can keep it a secret or something. Please.”

“Sorry, King Michael. Or is it King Carver?” She thought a moment, a mischievous look in her eyes, and said, “I guess King works well enough all by itself.”

“You’re just having fun with me.”

She took his arm and turned him to face herself, serious all of a sudden. “Michael, you are King. And you are my husband, I am your wife. Got it?”

“But you’re the Queen of All Space.”

“Then you’re King of all Space. Accept it, Michael. You might be a man from an emerging world, but never forget: you were called. You hold the keys, and my Talents are nothing without the keys. What can be more kingly than that?”

She reached a hand up to caress his cheek. “Be a king, Michael. It’s your Empire now, too. Our Empire needs us, both of us.”

* * * * *

Later that very day, Mike, Reba, Alexis, and Mildred, along with Jessie and four Guardians left for Earth. The Empire could not afford a honeymoon for its King and Queen at the moment. Resolve and Joline lifted off together and didn’t waste any time. They were fast ships, at least until reaching Earth’s system.

Alexis and Mildred accompanied them to Earth at Ellie’s insistence. Her near death had highlighted the fragility of the line of Chosen, and she knew it was only a matter of time before word leaked out that Parsons’ World was bankrolling the Queen. When it did, Rebel knowledge of Shipyard would not be far behind. When that happened, the Rebels would hold nothing in reserve. Until the Rebels were defeated, she would live with the knowledge that an invisible, or nearly invisible, gleason might show up at her side without warning. Until the Empire could protect the line of Chosen, she and Alexis must never be in the same place at the same time. And what safer place to hide Alexis than Earth? Everyone there, they believed, was immune to the Chessori mind weapon, and it was not likely anyone would think to look for her on an emerging world.

Ellie’s eyes followed the two ships as they rose silently from their berths. Her eyes stayed lifted to the sky long after the ships disappeared, her thoughts turning inward. She was truly alone now. She was separated from her child again, and her precious Knights were scattered to the stars as they strove mightily to save the Empire, all in her name. And there would be more struggles to come, of that she was certain. She didn’t know what form they would take, and she knew they might not all be successful. Her own part, standing before the Imperial Senate some day in the future on her own home world, a world that was now the heart of the rebellion, filled her with fear and anger. Such a waste, and all because of one man. One man among trillions of intelligent beings, one man who had held a position of trust, one man who had ruthlessly betrayed that trust.

Struthers.

If she accomplished nothing else with her life, she would restore the Empire to its full glory. After the rebellion was put down, she would entertain changes to her ruling status, but until then she would rule with the full power of the law behind her, her Knights and warriors beside her to enforce those laws. That was the position of trust the Empire and its citizens had bestowed upon her, and she would not let them down.

She turned to walk back across the tarmac, waving away the offer of a ride. Her Protectors turned with her, their eyes searching everywhere for threats. Her thoughts turned inward.

>I miss him already.<

>I know, but what you have chosen is right. His mission is critical.<

>Oh, Cassandra, it’s so much more than it appears on the surface. He’s not just recruiting a few soldiers, he’s recruiting a whole world. Can one man bring such a world, a world that will surely resist, into the Empire? As much as he wants to do so, I will not let him if they choose otherwise.<

>Then maybe we’ll just have to give him some help?<

Ellie smiled. >We will, indeed. Any chance there’s a new Heir starting in there?<

>No. You’re not fully recovered yet, and you are much too stressed. There’s still time for me to intervene if you would like.<

Ellie lifted her eyes to the sky again, to the place Mike had gone. >You tempt me, dear, but I think our man would prefer nature taking its course. He’ll be back.<

Val

Chapter Five

Forg approached the gangplank of the Empire cruise ship and stopped to let his eyes rove its beautiful lines. A trader at heart, he had spent the better part of his life in space and could only wonder at the beauty of this liner. All white, shaped like a perfect ellipse, it was truly a marvel, and truly unlike the ships of his people, the Chessori. Among the Chessori, all ships were working ships. There were no such things as luxury liners.

He set his single bag on the tarmac, hesitant to take the next step onto the entrance ramp. He hadn’t shielded his thought, and it went to the five other crewmen with him. They gathered around him in a huddle, their bodies touching each other, sharing their mutual unhappiness. Yes, this was the final step. As soon as they stepped up that ramp, it would be a clear admission that their ship was gone forever.

He could not imagine a worse predicament. The loss of his ship instantly reduced him to the lowest rung of Chessori society, the unemployed. The rest of his crew, all relatives, shared in that fate. It wouldn’t be forever, but to be in this predicament for even a short time was anathema to the Chessori. No slightest outward expression of his chagrin showed, at least not to the other guests passing to both sides of the small island the Chessori had become. Rarely did outward expressions show themselves among the Chessori. There was no need.

“We should be going,” Grost, his brother, thought. “Each step takes us closer to a replacement ship.”

Forg sighed inwardly: Grost was right. He picked up his bag and forced himself to take that difficult step. Following that one step, the rest of the steps became easier. He and his crew had only one focus now: to reach Orion III, where they hoped to hitch a ride with another trader back to the Chessori domain. There they would begin the laborious process of purchasing another ship. The price he had received from the K’tiri who had stolen his ship was sufficient to purchase a brand new ship, but the loss of his ship still stung deeply. The transaction had broken a fundamental law of the Chessori, a law that only a K’tiri had the power to break.

Inside the cruise ship, he and his crew wandered aimlessly as they sought their cabins. A friendly crewman finally led them to their rooms and helped them get settled. Before leaving, the crewman held his hand out. Forg looked at the hand and thought a question to his crewmates, but he received no helpful replies. He resorted to words.

“We are new to your society,” he said to the crewman. “What exactly does the hand you hold out to me mean?” When the man hesitated, Forg added, “I mean no disrespect. I only wish to learn.”

“Uh, it’s tradition to tip for good service, sir.”

“Tip?”

“A gratuity, sir. A small amount of money is usually exchanged when the service you receive is good.”

“It is?”

“It is, sir. Only within the service industry. Did you tip the waiter after your last meal?”

“I paid him the requested fee.”

“A little extra would have been appropriate, sir.”

“Are you not paid by your employer?”

“I am, sir, but not overmuch. Wages in the service industry are usually adjusted downward to compensate for tips.”

“I see,” Forg said, reaching into his belt pouch and bringing out a coin.

“Uh, about three of those, sir.”

Forg did not let his surprise show. He had been a trader for many years and was accustomed to surprises, though this small oddity was a new one. The crewman accepted the coins with a bow and left.

“Now what?” he thought to his men as he placed his bag on a bunk. “We have many idle days before us.”

“We can explore the ship,” Grost said with excitement. “I’d like to see how these people entertain themselves.”

They wandered the ship for days as it headed out of the system, constantly surprised at what they found. Gambling, parties, competitions, drinking and eating to excess, such idleness was never seen within the Chessori domain, though in truth there was little else to do aboard the great liner. They found a small establishment that was not crowded in which they could enjoy refreshments without undue staring. Chessori were still quite rare within this Empire.

Meals were a different matter. Everyone was expected to eat together in a large dining room, and more tips were expected. At least the food was good – plenty of meat. The Chessori disdained the other offerings, but the waiter learned their ways and soon just brought large portions of meat, all properly cooked and seasoned. Along with the meat, he brought small amounts of alcohol, something the Chessori metabolism needed on a regular basis.

Forg requested a visit to the bridge, but he was turned down. Passengers were not permitted on the bridge under any circumstances, and he was not surprised. He ran his own ship the same way, unless the request came from a K’tiri. Then he could not refuse.

The K’tiri. How he hated them, especially now. Until recently he had never heard of a ship from a lesser guild annexed as his had been. And why had it been taken? Why did the K’tiri need the ship so badly? It was so foreign to Chessori ways. If you wanted a new ship, you negotiated with the S’klida, the ship selling guild. It took time, but it was the proper way. And to annex a trader’s ship when cargo was aboard, cargo that had been promised for delivery, that was inexplicable even to K’tiri ways. But once the K’tiri claimed scree’Tal, or death-right, Forg’s options evaporated. He had to complete the deal.

Not only did it not make sense, it would give future Chessori traders a black mark with the client, something that contradicted all tradition. He simply could not understand it, nor could his crew.

He was not the first to lose his ship; he had recently encountered others of the lesser guilds who had suffered the same fate here in Aldebaran Sector. His Guild Master would likely be inundated with grievances. Nothing would come of them, the K’tiri were too strong, but the grievances would be made, noted, and negotiated. Still, it just did not make any sense. His anger would be a long time simmering against the K’tiri.

Chapter Six

Val boarded the cruise liner after days of private meetings with Admiral Seeton’s senior staff. As the only proof here on Aldebaran I of the Queen’s existence, Admiral Seeton had insisted that the Knight meet as many of his officers as he could, and Val jumped at the opportunity. He knew exactly what it meant to these warriors to have a Queen. No longer were these officers adrift, as they had been for more than a year.

Too, he now had a clearer understanding of the methods used by the Rebels for taking control of sectors. Sector governors either swore allegiance to the new regime, or they were replaced with individuals loyal to Struthers. The new governors then set about replacing their staffs with members loyal to themselves, reaching into the military ranks after solidifying their own personal staffs. The process took time but was inexorable in its completeness. The sector commander, Seeton’s boss, had caved in to the new governor’s demands quickly and was working hard to establish his own command structure of loyal officers. He hadn’t gotten far. Seeton had blocked him at every step of the way, walking a tightrope for months as he delayed and in some cases refused to carry out orders that would undermine his own strengths.

Seeton had been hard pressed by the new governor to allow Chessori observers aboard his ships, but the visit by Krys, the Queen’s Seer, had alerted him to the danger. The threat had been reinforced by Val and Mike, and he now knew without any doubt that the Chessori were the enemy. He would risk everything before allowing the enemy aboard his ships.

Krys had delivered the same message to Orion III, and Val expected to encounter a similar arrangement there.

Val had two reasons for taking passage on the cruise ship. First, it offered a non-military, clandestine method for approaching Orion III. Second, one of Seeton’s clerks had discovered six Chessori listed as passengers, and Val wanted to study them.

He slept through liftoff and felt completely refreshed when he emerged from his compartment. He spent several hours perusing the various decks, astounded at the multiple forms of entertainment offered to guests. Sorely missing Reba, he nevertheless congratulated himself on not being forced to explore all the activities offered by the entertainment staff. Reba would have demanded exhaustive involvement in each and every one.

He developed a routine of an hour of hard physical exercise before breakfast, then lots of time cruising the corridors or simply relaxing in various lounges, drinking mild stimulants to keep up appearances while constantly searching for the Chessori.

After nearly a week of failure, he resorted to asking Captain Summers to seat him with the Chessori during a meal. The captain gave him a troubled look, wondering aloud why a fleet lieutenant would have any interest in the Chessori, but when Val returned to his room the following day, he discovered an invitation to join the captain for dinner.

He decided to put a little pressure on the Chessori. Discarding his plan to act as a civilian, he put on his best uniform. A crewman escorted him to a seat directly opposite the group of six Chessori. To his left sat a man and woman returning to Cordolla, the ship’s first stop, after a year-long vacation. They were wealthy farmers recently retired. To his right sat a self-important businessman and his wife heading to a meeting on Orion III.

In Val’s experience, every species had one or two strong suits, almost always something physical that set them apart from other species, something that had helped them climb the evolutionary ladder high enough to let intelligence do the rest. It might be strength or speed, claws, beaks, or hands, size, or any combination of such things, but it was usually obvious.

The Chessori had no visible strengths at all. Short of stature and hairless, their bodies were completely white. Slim, weak necks supported disproportionately large heads. To all outward appearances, they were frail. And they were frail. The Chessori that Mike had tackled beneath the ship on Earth had died beneath him, its bones crushed.

Their only remarkable feature, other than the complete lack of significant strengths, was their eyes. Dark and shaped like ellipses, the eyes of the Chessori dominated their features. And they never blinked, didn’t even have visible eye lids.

The six Chessori sitting opposite him looked like mannequins sitting eerily still, their eyes never blinking but seeing all. His skin crawled at the memory of the mind weapon hidden behind those eyes.

Clearly, the mind weapon had paved their way up the evolutionary ladder. Other than Mike and Reba, Val was not aware of any other creatures in the galaxy that were immune to the weapon.

He wanted to stare at them. Even more, he wanted to pull from them the means to inhibit this mind weapon of theirs, but he could not – yet. He wanted to keep a low profile. The very presence of a uniformed line officer aboard a cruise ship was unusual, and Val explained his presence at the first opportunity. Keeping one eye on the Chessori for reaction, he described how he had lost his job as a ship’s navigation officer after failing to comply with his captain’s demand that he swear loyalty to the Rebels. He made it clear to everyone at the table that he supported the old Empire and would not waver in that position.

Conversation about the coup and its effects on the Empire immediately erupted around the table. The Chessori watched stolidly, their huge eyes betraying no emotion, though he did see questioning looks pass between several as the discussion continued.

“How can there be an Empire when there’s no Queen?” asked the wife of the retired farmer beside him.

“What makes you think there’s no Queen?” Val replied simply.

“Well!” the woman snorted. “Everyone’s seen the pictures. Everyone knows what happened at the Palace.”

“How can you support anyone who would do such a thing?” Val inquired, spreading his hands wide and addressing everyone at the table.

Silence held for a few moments, then several replies came at the same time. The general consensus seemed to be that it was done and could not be undone. It was necessary to consider the future now.

“If the Rebel cause was just,” Val argued when the discussion seemed to be dying down, “I might agree. But to rebuild from a foundation of treachery, of wrongness, to reward the ones who caused it with loyalty and support, what does that say of our values? And what does it say of the eventual success of their venture?”

The table went silent. Val looked at each of them during the silence, then continued. “Would you build your home from defective materials? Would you begin a new business with a knowingly defective business plan? Would you teach your children that honor is dead, that it is proper to reward murder and treachery with loyalty?”

These were not new subjects to these people. He knew they had given careful thought to the ramifications of the coup, though perhaps not in the same terms he had. Probably most discussion centered on what was best for themselves or their own worlds, not what was best for the Empire at large.

“I can tell you,” he continued, keeping an eye on the Chessori for any reaction, “that all modeling I have seen regarding the future of the Empire shows it coming apart at the seams under Rebel leadership. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you, but I promise you it will matter to your descendents. Their Empire will not be the pleasant place you have grown up within. I would be surprised to see cruise liners like this one plying the space lanes in two hundred years. It will be too dangerous.”

He turned to Captain Summers. “Have you encountered any pirates yet, sir?”

Summers smiled a tight smile. “No, and it’s your job to prevent that.”

“It was, and I hope it will be again when I find a new ship,” Val responded openly. “Which I hope to find on Orion III. But what if the very people you count on to keep you safe from pirates become pirates themselves? Have you thought of that? Have you thought about what the military could become without firm, centralized political control? And without the values these Rebels have so blatantly abrogated? To whom will the admirals and generals swear allegiance? Might they not become local strongmen, responsible only to themselves?”

Val looked around the table again, then let his gaze come to rest on the Chessori. “What do our Chessori friends think about all this?” he asked in a pleasant voice, inviting a response from them.

The Chessori directly opposite him spread his small hands wide. “To us, this is an internal issue. We take no sides. We are simple traders.”

“Traders?” Val asked in surprise. “Where’s your ship?”

“Ah . . .” the Chessori responded, his mouth turning into a thin, grim line, changing his stony façade instantly. “You ask just the right question, young sir.” He spread his hands to encompass his comrades. “Like you, we, too, are without a ship at the moment. We hope to remedy that on Orion III.”

“What happened to your ship?” Val asked innocently.

“A long story, sir, not appropriate for the table. Though I do not take sides in this internal dispute, I applaud your integrity. Are there others such as yourself?”

“Many. Most, I think. At present, some are adrift in their loyalties. That will change. They just need the right leader.”

“To whom will they swear loyalty? As stated earlier, your Queen is tragically dead.”

Val looked around the table before replying, seeing looks of agreement on most faces. He turned back to the Chessori who appeared to be spokesman for the group. “The Queen is, indeed, dead. The line of Chosen is not.”

There were gasps around the table, though no slightest change of expression appeared on the Chessori faces. Val turned to Captain Summers, discovering him returning Val’s look through narrowed, intent eyes. Val simply raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question as his gaze swept around the table. He turned his attention back to his food, taking a bite and chewing deliberately.

Everyone followed his example for a time, then the businessman on his right asked the question on everyone’s mind. “Is there a new Queen?”

Val deliberated for a time before responding. “At this moment, I cannot provide a satisfactory answer to that question. I can only tell you that my loyalty to the Empire and my oath has not, and will not, waver.”

“But all the Chosen were at the Palace,” one replied.

“According to whom?” Val responded without hesitation. “Struthers?” He paused to let that sink in, then added before returning to his meal, “His whole future rests on your perceptions, and his actions prove he is without honor. The line of Chosen is not ended. I know that for a fact.”

Later, as the table extended its regards to the departing captain and couples began heading off in various directions, Val cornered the Chessori and invited them to share refreshments with him. To his surprise, their spokesman accepted, leading the way to a lounge that was only sparsely occupied.

“Your hang-out?” Val asked as they pulled two tables together, then seated themselves.

“Yes,” the leader replied. “I am known as Forg.” He introduced the others and let Val introduce himself.

“I’m Lieutenant Val.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Forg replied as he extended his tiny hand.

Val took it and shook, instantly aware of the fragility of that hand and limiting his own pressure to what would otherwise be considered a weak handshake.

“Thank you,” Forg replied to Val’s thoughtfulness with a smile. “I can’t tell you how many times this hand has been abused. It is a custom we Chessori do not share with you.”

“Then I thank you for the honor extended to me.”

“Just a courtesy. We traders are accustomed to dealing with local customs.”

“Have you been a trader long?”

“All of my adult life, as have my friends here,” Forg said, indicating the other Chessori seated at the table. “We all come from the same family, a family that has been trading for generations.”

‘I know little of the Chessori,” Val answered honestly and intently. “May I ask a few questions?”

“You may. We do not often share in this manner, but the integrity you displayed during the meal deserves the honor of sharing. Such is held in high esteem among us.”

Val allowed a natural smile to light his face, hoping it would take the sting out of his next words. “Honor among traders?”

Forg bowed his head in response. “I sense the humor behind your words and share the joke. We Chessori traders love to bargain, though we do so under very definite rules of ethics. The outcome of any negotiation is to our advantage, or else we turn away. Our profit margins are reasonable, and when we make a deal we always abide by the terms. No exceptions. Those are our rules, and we are well known for them.”

Forg thought for a moment, then added, “Perhaps not so well known in your Empire, yet. We are relative newcomers here.”

Forg’s words took Val by surprise. Either this guy was a very good liar or Val was missing something. He chose his response carefully. “I wouldn’t say the same is true of us. I’m no expert, but I think our traders go for as much profit as they possibly can.”

“They do,” Forg agreed as he nodded his head. “Not difficult to counter if one knows his business well, and we know ours very well. We belong to a large network of traders and usually manage to find buyers before reaching agreement with the sellers. We rarely guess at profit margins.”

“How can you do that?” Val asked in surprise. “Aren’t most of your deliveries completed in other star systems?”

“Yes, of course, or my ship and crew would not be needed. We’re part of a very large . . . guild . . . you would call it, and we have our methods.”

Was Forg hinting at the Chessori interstellar communications capability? Val decided to tread in less dangerous waters until he got to know these Chessori better. He changed the subject. “You seemed interested in the discussion about our Queen. Do you have a similar government where you come from?”

“Definitely not,” Forg replied. “All male Chessori belong to guilds of various kinds. Some guilds have superior status compared to others, but commerce governs all. For example, if you need a new ship, you bargain with the shipbuilding guild. If you need a new home, you bargain with the homebuilding guild. If, instead, you desire a ship that is not new, you would bargain with a guild specializing in used ships. I know that in your empire it is possible to deal directly with a ship’s present owner, thereby bypassing the ship-selling guild, but that is not possible among the Chessori. I and my friends here,” he said, indicating the others seated at the table, “belong to a trader guild. We buy, transport, and sell. That is all.”

“Are there other trader guilds?” Val asked, interested in Forg’s description of his society.

“There are. Most tend to focus on one or two sectors within our empire, though some focus on special items as well.”

Val spent the next couple of days getting to know the Chessori. The process seemed remarkably easy, almost as if they were helping to speed things along. He wouldn’t say they became friends, nor could he ever trust any Chessori after the horrible agony they had inflicted on him, but they became comfortable with each other.

Following another dinner at the captain’s table, a dinner the captain had not attended for one reason or another, Val settled down with the Chessori for drinks in the lounge they had taken to frequenting.

“Do your trading activities compete successfully with the other races in your empire?” he asked. “I mean, maybe Chessori traders deal honestly, but surely not everyone else does.”

“You ask many pertinent questions,” Forg responded, looking at him thoughtfully. He glanced at his partners, though no words were exchanged between them.

When Forg turned his attention back to Val, he continued staring for a time before answering. “It is clear to us that you seek knowledge of the Chessori. In addition to that, you have given each of us the strong impression that you are more than you appear, and that you are a person of great integrity. Integrity is important to the Chessori. It is a fundamental tenet of our existence, as we have explained. Is it possible that you seek something from us, and that in exchange you might have something we want? Care to deal?”

Val’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What is it that you want?”

“A ship.”

“A ship!”

“A ship. Specifically, we would like our old ship returned to us.” Val stayed mute, caught completely by surprise. Forg added, “We are traders, but we cannot trade without a ship. “

“What happened to your ship?” Val asked guardedly.

“Have negotiations begun?” Forg asked, looking directly into Val’s eyes.

Val’s pulse quickened. “Maybe they have, and maybe they haven’t. We can call this off at any time if we don’t come to agreement, right?”

“Agreed.”

“So what happened to your ship?”

“Can you get it back for us if I tell you?”

“Probably not, but how can I tell unless I know the whole story?”

“You admit, then, that it is a possibility? Are you more than you appear to be, or are you a simple pilot looking for work?”

Val had a strong urge to rub the stubble on his chin, but he was not about to reveal his increasing tension to this Chessori.

“Forg,” he replied, “I’m a pilot, as I told you. I’m connected with others, with many others who might be able to help you, but you ask much.”

“Would one of them be this Queen you mentioned?” Forg asked quietly.

Without hesitation, Val responded, “I will not tell you who my associates are. We have to get to know one another much, much better before that discussion takes place.” Jeez, he thought to himself, this guy is sharp. He scares me. Where’s Reba when I need her?

“And we shall. Let me leave you with a further thought before we part this night. I am Chessori. As such, I am bound by the rules of my guild. All Chessori are bound by such rules. One particular guild, a very senior guild, has chosen to interpret one of our rules in such a way that I and my guild members consider incorrect. That interpretation has led to the annexation of my ship, and mine is not the only ship taken in this manner. I intend to right this wrong. I will have my ship back.”

“You speak of dishonor among your people.”

Forg nodded solemnly. “I do. I do not say these words lightly. What has happened to me and my crew is bad, very bad. It is against all Chessori custom.”

“I am not Chessori. Is this conversation appropriate?”

Forg leaned toward him. “Probably not, but all of us sense something special in you. We have given this careful consideration. There is much competition between certain of our guilds. Some competition strengthens, but this particular competition weakens.”

Forg rose from the table, his crew rising with him. “I seek that which is right for my people. We might well be strengthened if we do this right. We will retire now. Do you wish to continue negotiations tomorrow?”

Val nodded. “Perhaps over breakfast?”

They exchanged details on where to meet, then Forg bowed and turned away.

Val stayed for a while, deep in thought. >Are we falling into a trap, Artmis?<

>Maybe. Are these Chessori who and what they appear to be, simple traders, or are they part of the same group pursuing Ellie? I don’t know.<

How in the world were they going to determine the truth, Val wondered? At the very least, the Chessori were not to be trusted. Yet, he might really be on to something here. He, Mike, and Chandrajuski had considered the possibility that not all Chessori were involved in the coup. Was Forg hinting at a split of some kind among his people? Was it possible this guild thing had anything to do with it? If so, how big a deal was it to the Chessori? Was he dealing with one shanghaied crew, or were there others, possibly many others, who felt the same way?

>Consider a larger scale, Val. Could the Chessori be in the midst of a civil war themselves?<

>That’s too big, Artmis, and the timing would be pretty coincidental, don’t you think? If I’m not reading Forg completely wrong, my guess is that this is more of an inter-guild thing, not an empire-busting thing. But we’ll keep your idea in mind, as well as the fact that we might be reading Forg wrong.<

Fundamentally, if what Forg said was true, the Chessori were traders, bargaining until an agreement was hammered out. If true, since the Chessori were assisting Struthers, it meant that Struthers had struck an agreement with them.

>Did he strike an agreement with all the Chessori, or was the deal with just some of them, maybe just one guild?< Artmis wondered. >How well does Struthers know the Chessori? Could he have struck a deal with just some of them, perhaps thinking those he dealt with represented all Chessori when, in fact, they didn’t, or did he strike the deal with certain knowledge that the Chessori leadership stood behind the agreement?<

So many questions and no good answers. Val had six Chessori to question and learn from, really just one if Forg was fully in charge. Surely Struthers had dealt with many others, was, in fact, dealing with many others at this very moment. The Chessori were spreading quickly through the Empire, and the ones he had encountered prior to Forg were definitely siding with the Rebels. But what if they represented just one guild? What if not all guilds supported the Rebels? Was Forg a good guy or a bad guy?

Val knew that Mike, Ellie, and Chandrajuski were counting on him to find answers to these questions. He spent a restless night, unaccustomed to dealing with such far ranging issues with no one to fall back on for help. He wished Reba was beside him, knowing she’d have crystal clear insight that would put them on the right track. When he woke up the next morning, Reba was still uppermost in his mind. He talked to her while he worked out, trying to focus his thoughts.

Her cheerful response was, as always, simple and uncluttered. “You’re going to do this thing the way you’ve always done things,” she said in his mind, flashing her incredible smile. “The right way.”

Forg was alone when he arrived for breakfast. The diminutive Chessori seemed lost at the table set for eight. Val had to consciously remind himself that he was not dealing with a child.

“How did you sleep?” he asked as he sat down.

“Not well. You?”

“About the same.”

“We may be juggling similar problems,” Forg said, folding his tiny hands together on the edge of the table, his eyes glistening as they stared at Val without blinking. “The stakes are very high. Neither of us is in a position to trust the other, yet trust is our only currency at the moment.”

Val bowed his head. “I believe you’re right: it is a dilemma. How do we solve it?”

“Through negotiation. Tit for tat as your saying goes.”

“This issue may ultimately go far beyond simple negotiation, Forg.”

“Perhaps, but isn’t that the highest form of negotiation?” The corners of Forg’s small mouth lifted in a smile as his unblinking eyes stared back at Val.

“I guess, then, that I’ll start with saying it’s highly unlikely I’ll ever restore you to your ship. Nor is it likely I’ll ever be able to supply you with a different Chessori ship. An Empire ship is possible, but probably not suitable to your needs. Can I just supply you with the money for a new ship?”

“So you have access to ships and funds. I thought so.” Forg waved his hands in a negating fashion. “I don’t want money. I’ve already received payment for my ship.”

“You have? I thought someone took it from you,” Val said in surprise. “Did you get a fair price?”

“Negotiations were conducted between myself and another Chessori. Of course I got a fair price.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is fundamental to all Chessori negotiations: I could not walk away from the deal without completing it. I am grossly offended.”

Forg’s words confused Val. “Offended enough to negotiate for information that might be construed as treasonous to your people?”

“What information I might share with you is not treasonous. It is to the benefit of my people that this horror be stopped.”

“To what horror do you refer?”

“I suspect you know very well of what I speak. Do you deny such knowledge?”

Val hesitated, then plunged in. “I’ve been on the receiving end of the Chessori mind weapon.”

>Careful!< Artmis said in alarm.

>I know, buddy, but it has to come out.<

>Mike and Reba are not here to deal with him. I’m not ready to go through that thing again.<

Forg let out a long ‘sssssssss,’ and fell silent for a time. “I was not referring to any such thing. You are mistaken. I don’t know what you are talking about,” he finished weakly.

“No mistake, Forg. It’s excruciatingly painful and disabling. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Forg took his time responding. “If such a thing existed, and I am not saying that it does, you would not be alive today.”

“Well, here I sit,” Val replied nonchalantly, one hand reaching across the table to distract Forg while the other crept toward his weapon.

“If that is a weapon you are reaching for, it is unnecessary. I am unarmed.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you Chessori, it’s that you are never unarmed,” Val replied, his hand gripping the miniblaster tucked into his pocket, its barrel pointed directly at Forg.

Forg remained silent for a long time, his eyes searching Val’s. “Have negotiations ended, then?”

“Depends on what you have to offer,” Val stated calmly. “I would know more about this mind weapon, for one thing.”

Forg frowned. “Please describe it.”

“I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,” Val said, his grip tightening on the blaster. “I’ve seen a small number of Chessori bring an entire warship to its knees, round up crewmembers considered disloyal to the Rebel cause and lock us up, then release everyone else to return to their duties.”

“Such a thing is not possible.”

“You know it is,” Val responded with disgust. “This thing was used only long enough to secure the ship for its command staff, long enough to arrest those of us judged unwilling to switch sides. So far as I know, everyone survived, and I’m certain its use was condoned by the Rebel officers who commanded the ship, for it affected them as well.”

Forg’s eyes wandered. He seemed confused, but he eventually nodded his head as acceptance of Val’s words seeped into his mind. “I’m sorry, Val,” he said, returning his gaze to him, staring at him. “You can’t understand,” he continued after a time. “To have used the scree against an outsider is bad in and of itself. To have allowed anyone to escape that knows of its existence is breaking a most fundamental law of the Chessori, a law that relates to the very survival of my species. I am bound by law to kill you now.”

“Well, you’d better be good at it because any flinching on my part will cause my weapon to discharge. It’s pointed directly at you.”

“I have nothing to fear. Should I so choose, you will be instantly incapacitated. Perhaps I have spoken too soon. You have not really experienced the scree, or you would know.”

“I have, and I believe it was used at full strength. But before you get carried away, think about something. If you were to use this scree right now on me, how would you go about killing everyone else in the room?”

“They would all be incapacitated.”

“So you’d have to kill them all?”

“Yes.”

“Then everyone else on the ship? I don’t believe that’s possible,” Val added uncertainly.

“It is possible, but not practical. It is certainly wrong.” Forg was again silent for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was very low. “If what you say is true, the actions of this very senior guild have transcended all guild law, all Chessori law. I cannot believe that what you say is true.”

“Believe me or not, Forg – that’s up to you. I can tell you with absolute certainty that many, many sailors have lived through its use and survived to fight alongside their Chessori comrades. As awful as it is, these sailors have accepted its use, knowing that in the long run it protects them from their opponents. Your secret is definitely out.”

He leaned toward Forg, his blaster still pointed at him. “Our knowledge goes far beyond that, Forg. We’re certain that the Chessori have partnered with the Rebels to bring new leadership to the Empire.”

Forg stared at him, then mumbled, “Impossible.” He looked away, but after a long period of contemplation, he returned his gaze to Val. “I cannot envision an agreement with the Rebels that would betray this fundamental tool of the Chessori. It defies reason. I must have proof.“

“Stick around with me long enough, and you’ll probably get it,” Val replied sadly. “It seems to follow me around. I’d offer to show you the scars, but it doesn’t leave any.”

“No, it does not. You may remove your hand from your weapon now.”

“All right. As a show of good faith, I do so.” Val placed both hands on top of the table, knowing it would not matter in the long run. He sensed Artmis’ nervousness but pushed the thought aside. He was nervous enough all by himself.

“My appetite has disappeared,” Forg said, standing up. ”I am returning to my quarters.”

“Okay,” Val said, shaken as well. “Just know one thing. You can probably take me out one way or another, but doing so will not put this particular genie back into its bottle. Your secret is known by many. We even have a pretty good idea of how the weapon came into being. It’s obvious your physical bodies are not strong. From way back in your species’ beginnings, you needed a special tool to survive. Looks to me like you got it. It’s worked on everyone I’ve seen it used against.”

“Its use does, indeed, cross all species boundaries,” Forg agreed, much troubled. “No one is immune except the Chessori. We can meet again tonight in the lounge. I give you my personal assurances that you will not be harmed by me or my brothers, at least not as long as we are still negotiating.”

Val looked into Forg’s eyes. “I guess that will have to be the next item of negotiation, then.”

Forg shook his head. “It is not that simple. You have given me an impossible dilemma. Good day, Val.”

They met again that evening. This time Forg and his companions all attended. With them in attendance, Val knew that Forg had shared the morning’s conversation with them.

Forg opened the conversation without delay. “We must return to our people. Can you help?”

Val snorted. “Do you know what happened to the last ships we sent to visit the Chessori? Our trade delegation?”

“I know nothing of any such delegation. What was the outcome?”

“They were massacred to the last man. All five thousand of them. It was the first display of this scree that we know about. So much for the honesty and integrity of the Chessori.”

Forg and his group looked stunned. Forg recovered long enough to ask, “If all were killed, how do you know about it?”

“I said all men were massacred,” Val replied evenly. “Several women survived. My friends have all the gory details. I would imagine Struthers and his ilk have, as well. In fact, I know they do.”

“Can you prove this?” Forg asked.

“Yes, but not here, and perhaps not to your liking. I could let you interview our survivors, but I won’t. I don’t think they’re much in love with the Chessori anyway. I think your best source of proof is the Chessori that were there.”

“These things are not representative of the Chessori,” Forg hissed. “We seek to trade honorably with you, nothing more.”

“Well, some of you seek more, lots more,” Val replied. “Enough to join the Rebels as they try to overthrow my Empire. Your people have accepted a big part in this coup, them and their scree.” A nasty grin lit Val’s face. “They’re going to lose, too. Wait and see. They’re going to lose. Have you chosen sides?”

“We choose the side of the Chessori, of course,” Forg replied absently. Then his gaze locked on Val. “And I don’t mean the Chessori you have already met.”

Forg’s gaze wandered among his fellows for a time, though no words were spoken. Val suddenly had an insight. “You’re talking mind to mind!” he exclaimed.

Forg’s gaze shifted instantly back to him. “Are we back to negotiations, then?”

“Call it what you want. It’s your turn. I’m one up on you.”

“You may infer what you wish. I will not become a traitor to my people, but I am troubled by the wrongness you have described. I would like to right these wrongs.”

“At what price?” Val asked. “Are we still talking about getting your ship back for you?”

“We are,” Forg responded, “but the stakes have been raised. Your vision of the Chessori is wrong. It is up to all Chessori to correct the error. It begins with us. We are prepared to offer guidance that might be helpful to you and your Empire, but I would ask a question first. Does your Empire stand a chance against these Rebels? Are we assisting the winning side, or will our efforts serve only to delay the inevitable? I would ask for a true evaluation, not just your personal hope.”

Val hesitated. “The outcome is in doubt, primarily because of the scree. The Rebels can and are being dealt with. The scree makes the process more difficult, but we have a plan. I believe the Empire will be restored to its full stature in time. It may even be stronger and better as a result of this coup. Any information you choose to provide might serve to speed up the process, but, quite frankly, I doubt if you have any information I don’t already have or will soon have through my own resources.”

“How will you defeat the scree?”

“All I can say is that we have a plan, and it’s a good plan. If it works, and if you speak true, it may be to your benefit as well.”

“No one has ever defeated the scree.”

“No one has ever tried to take over the Empire either. We’re very serious about taking it back, and to do so we will have to defeat the scree. We have a plan.”

“You believe the Empire will be fully restored. The cohesion required by your Empire comes from a certain line of women who lead, a line which we have been informed no longer exists.”

“Forg, I say again, the Empire will be fully restored.”

“Your conclusions are based on what? Fact, hope, what?”

“All the above. We have a Queen, she is from the line of Chosen, and she fulfills all our requirements.”

Val knew he might have said more than he should, but the Rebels and their Chessori friends were well aware that Ellie had survived. What he had just divulged would not be a surprise to Forg if he was in league with the Rebels. If Forg was not in league with the Rebels, if he was, in fact, opposed to the Chessori who were working with the Rebels, it might give him hope. However, Val had clearly set himself up as one who could lead the Chessori to Ellie. He would have to be careful.

“I see,” Forg replied. “She is completely restored?”

“No. She rebuilds her Empire from a hidden location.” Val leaned toward Forg. “Don’t even think about asking where it is.”

“It is not necessary that I know,” Forg replied. “I have one further question. If I can prove to you that not all Chessori support these Rebels, will your Empire reconsider its perception of my people? Will your Empire give us the opportunity to negotiate a new relationship between our peoples?”

Val paused. He had to speak carefully. His words were the Queen’s words on all worlds of her Empire. He could not force her hand, yet to open doors and to provide opportunity was exactly what her Knights were all about. He would keep those doors open.

“Your task will not be easy,” he said to Forg. “If you can convince me, you will then have to convince others. But know this: if you speak true, the door is not closed to the Chessori. If you speak true, you will have the opportunity to be heard. A promise from me in this matter is a promise from the Queen.”

Forg stared at him. “You speak for your Queen?”

“I do.”

Forg looked to his friends for a time, and Val sensed confusion among them, though no outward sign showed. When Forg turned his gaze back to him, he said, “I knew you were more than you appeared to be, but you are young. How can you speak for the Queen?”

“You ask too much, Forg.”

“I do not ask too much. I ask a lot, but a lot is at stake here. I am a simple trader, but who you are is not clear to me. Fundamental to every negotiation is that representatives of each party be decision-makers. Are you in a position to decide? These are weighty issues. What you and I decide today might impact the future of our two empires, a future that is at great risk at this moment.”

“What do you have to offer?”

“If your knowledge of the Chessori is as limited as you say, I offer a window to the rest of my people that is, apparently, closed to you at the moment. Your impression of the Chessori is very wrong. I ask again, who are you that you speak in the name of your Queen?”

Val considered Forg’s words, then he considered Forg himself. Forg was Chessori, and Mike had declared all Chessori to be the enemy, but what if Mike was wrong? What if some Chessori were not the enemy?

If Val chose wrong, it would be a terrible mistake, but at this point the only risk was to himself. Was he willing to risk his and Artmis’ life? Almost worse, was he willing to risk the horror of the scree?

>What do you think, Artmis?<

>I think you’re on to something. As Knights, our duty is clear. It is time to risk.<

He shuddered, and Forg noticed.

“You are frightened. Is my question so threatening?”

“No, but the consequences of my choice are. I deeply fear a recurrence of your scree.”

All six Chessori hung their heads, seemingly in shame. When Forg looked back to Val, he said, “I now believe you have truly experienced the scree. For that, I am sorry. I cannot make amends, but regardless of how our negotiations progress, I offer my word as a trader that you will not feel its effects from me or my crew. That is a personal promise made outside the terms of our negotiations.”

“Words are easy,” Val responded. “Can you offer proof?”

“You know I cannot. Are we at an impasse? Have negotiations ended?”

“Can you afford to end negotiations?”

“I can. I’m not so sure that my people can. I would like to keep the door open between our peoples, but I do not have the means to do so on my own.”

Val sat back in his chair and considered. At the moment, the threat was only to him and Artmis. Regardless of what he revealed to this Chessori, only the two of them were at risk. Then he wondered. He opened his eyes to Forg.

“Can you read my mind?”

“I cannot. If I could, it would be a two-way communication, and you would know that my words are true.”

“Then everything is based on faith in our words.”

“It is, and the stakes are very high. If you choose to risk, I will reciprocate.”

“In that case, do you understand the position of the Queen’s Knights within the Empire hierarchy?”

“I have heard tales of Knights, tales that are spoken with words of reverence. I believe they are simply that, tales of the past. Of those that have spoken the tales, none ever actually met such a person.”

“You have.”

Forg let his surprise show for the first time. He sat back in his seat with his mouth hanging open. So, too, did the other Chessori with him. “The Knights of the Realm are real?” he finally asked.

“Very real, Forg. Also very few in number.”

“The tales mention a talisman created by the Queen,” he said softly.

Val smiled grimly. “You may call it a talisman if you wish, but its principal purpose is to serve as identification, unquestioned identification. Only the Queen, using Talents found nowhere else in our Empire, can empower these talismans, and they are given only to her Knights in a very special and private ceremony. Once empowered by the Queen, only she and the Knight to whom it was issued can activate it, and if either of them dies, it ceases to function. For the Knight carrying this talisman, his word is her word on all worlds of the Empire. I can readily believe they take on magical powers in tales.”

Forg seemed frightened. He remained pressed into his seat, as far back as he could get in that seat. “What are you saying, Val?”

“You asked if I was in a position to make decisions. I am, and this proves it.” He tossed one of his Knights Pins across the table. It came to a stop before Forg, spinning slowly until it came to rest.

Forg stared at it, afraid.

“Pick it up, Forg,” Val ordered. “It will not hurt you. Open it.”

Forg hesitated, then, looking at Val, he reached tentatively for the Pin with his small hand. The other Chessori leaned away from him, looking as if they were ready to flee. Before picking up the Pin, Forg looked to each of his men. No words were exchanged, but Val sensed they were communicating in spite of that. When Forg turned back to Val, he said, “I have issued instructions that no matter what happens, the scree will not be used.”

Val nodded, and Forg picked up the Pin. He examined it, saying, “It is beautiful.”

“What’s inside is more beautiful. Open it,” Val ordered.

Forg turned it over in his hands, then reached a decision. He brought his other hand to the Pin and tried his best to open it. He could not, and he returned his gaze to Val.

“Let the others try,” Val demanded. The Pin was passed to each, and each failed to open it. “Place it on the table,” Val ordered when they were done. Forg did so, and Val turned the Pin in the proper direction, then passed his hand over it. The Pin instantly sprung open, and light poured forth. Within that light, a hologram coalesced, a picture of Ellie, the new Queen.

“Who is this person?” Forg asked, mesmerized. Unless he was an accomplished actor, Val decided, his lack of knowledge added credence to his story. This Chessori seemed utterly unaware of Ellandra of the Chosen.

“She is the new Queen, the Queen of the Empire.” Val reached for the pin, closed it, and returned it to his pocket. He didn’t want anyone else to see it just yet.

“Then Knights of the Realm are real,” Forg said after a time.

“Very real, but few ever know who we are.”

Forg bowed his head. “I am honored. I wish to continue negotiations.”

“Know this, Forg. Negotiating with me is negotiating with the Queen. Know, too, that we never lie. We are not required to reveal entire truths, but we never lie. Such is our promise to her, and such is our promise to the citizens of Empire.”

“I am not of the Empire.”

“You are not, and at this point in time, all Chessori are enemies of the Empire. You will serve your people well if you can convince me otherwise.”

“Then negotiations continue. The opportunity you offer pleases me. We Chessori traders have been quite successful here in your Empire. A return to normal will be good for the Chessori because it will be good for business. What would you like to know that I can tell you?”

Val was caught by surprise. He thought for a moment, then dove in. “Your ship was taken from you. Why?”

“I can only surmise, but your description of the use of the scree answered a lot of questions that had previously had no answers that made sense to us. The Chessori in some sectors appear to have been successful at insinuating themselves into your warships. Not so in Aldebaran Sector. Because of that lack of success, I believe the guild to which I referred earlier has elected to assist the Rebels by manning their own ships. My ship is probably a warship now.”

“But it’s a simple trader. Is it armed?”

“It is armed. We Chessori do not always trade among friendly people.”

“Surely a trader cannot be as heavily armed or protected as our warships. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Were there no warships among the treaty group?” Forg asked impatiently.

“There were many.”

“As you have surmised, we Chessori have methods of survival that do not require the use of heavy weapons and shielding.”

Val shuddered, knowing Forg was right. His memories of the scree would never be far from his thoughts, particularly when in the presence of Chessori. “Why are you headed to Orion III?” he asked.

“My guild is alive and well in Orion Sector. The senior guild of which I spoke has not needed to annex our ships there. We hope to join another Chessori trader for a ride home. Once home, we will begin the laborious process of finding a new ship.”

Val was thunderstruck. He’d been thinking too small. On his cruiser Beta IV, the Rebels had usurped control of the ship with the assistance of the Chessori. They had then expanded that control to the rest of the squadron without any fighting at all. It appeared that Struthers was, right now, expanding that plan to include the rest of the Empire. Even though the program appeared to have failed in Admiral Seeton’s sector, Struthers’ fall-back position presented an equal threat to Seeton’s ships. Would they be able to fight against even one Chessori trader, let alone a fleet of Chessori traders? He didn’t think so.

If the Chessori in Orion Sector had not needed to annex traders’ ships, that meant that Admiral Korban had caved in to demands to place Chessori aboard his own ships. Surely he would not have done so had he known the repercussions. Did he know, even now? How well had the Chessori infiltrated his fleets?

Then he remembered Harry Seeton’s lost squadron. Had it encountered the Chessori? His lips pursed as he considered the repercussions. If what he surmised was correct, Struthers’ strategy was brilliant, and possibly unbeatable. Mike had been the only one to see the plan in its entirety, and he’d been right. No wonder he was in such a hurry to get to Earth, to take responsibility for that project as First Knight. The Chessori had to be neutralized if the Queen’s forces were to have any chance at all against the Rebels.

“How can we fix this?” he asked Forg.

“You can’t. You may have already lost the war, at least in Orion Sector.”

“We have a plan,” Val assured him. “Will you help?”

Forg thought for a time, then Val realized he was probably discussing the issue with his partners. When he turned his large eyes back to Val, he said, “We don’t know what we can do. There aren’t enough of us. At this point in time, I suggest we continue our negotiations, knowing that much more is at stake than my ship.”

“To what do you refer?” Val asked.

“Our futures,” Forg responded. “If your Empire wins, there will be blood lust for the Chessori. I would avert that for both of our peoples.”

“And if we don’t win?”

“Your leader, Struthers, will be a figurehead. I believe this senior guild of the Chessori has gone rogue. It wants to own your Empire, and it will if we don’t stop it. Once your Rebels have won, what is to stop their Chessori partners from turning the scree on them?”

Chapter Seven

Val made his way to the bridge. Stopped outside by a crewman, he asked politely to speak with the captain.

“Passengers are not permitted beyond this point, sir,” the man answered automatically.

“I see.” Val reached into his pocket and removed his Knight’s Pins, pinning them to his collar as he said, “Do you recognize these, sailor?”

The man stared at the pins, his eyes wide. “I do, Sire,” he gulped.

“Take me to the captain.”

“Follow me, Sire.”

Captain Summers was on the bridge. He paled when he saw the Knight’s Pins on Val’s collar, but he stood tall and erect. This was his ship after all.

“Sire.”

“Captain, I have a request.” Captain Summers nodded, and Val continued. “I have two messenger drones loaded as cargo. I need access to them.”

“Very well, Sire. I must insist that you not endanger my passengers.”

“Do not fear, Captain. I will, however, inconvenience them for a short time. Something has come up that demands my immediate intervention.”

Val checked the navigation screens, then continued. “I see we have not yet jumped for Cordolla. After I’ve released my drones, you will proceed to Orion III.”

Summers paled. “I can’t do that, Sire. The company sets our schedule, not me.”

“Captain,” Val replied, “You will remain in command of this ship only as long as you carry out my instructions. Your remaining in command will benefit your passengers, don’t you agree? Upon reaching Orion III, I will depart, and you will be on your own again. Do I make myself clear?”

Summers searched his eyes for a time. He finally reached a decision, saying, “I would see proof of your authority.”

Val removed one Knight’s Pin from his collar and handed it to Summers. He then passed his hand over its surface, and it sprang open. Captain Summers stared at the hologram that shone forth, then sighed, a grimace forming on his face.

“Thank you, Sire,” he said, all business as he returned the pin to Val. “And may the gods be with you.” To his crew, he said, “Set course for Orion III.”

The secret was out, and Val did not try to deny it. Instead, he wore the emblems on his collar in public and shared the captain’s table at all meals. The other seats around the table rotated among other passengers, and he was deluged with questions and a considerable amount of flirting.

With his secret out, Ellie’s was as well, but he knew she had never intended her existence to remain a secret, only her location. Remembering back to Gamma VI, he recalled her dangerous return to inform the general populace of her well-being. He was only continuing that effort now, and though it was on a very, very small scale, passengers aboard this ship numbered among the wealthy of the Empire. Their stories would spread.

Val had no way of knowing if any Rebels were aboard. Consequently, he wore a full size blaster prominently on his hip for the remainder of the voyage, and his hand was never far from it.

During a private time with Forg, Val informed him that the Queen herself had been subject to the scree on many occasions. Forg was aghast, visibly shamed with the knowledge. Later that day, he called on Val with a request.

“My associates and I would like to accompany you on the remainder of your mission,” he stated.

Val hesitated. “Where I’m going, it will be exceedingly dangerous. I suspect there will be Chessori within the command structure on Orion III.”

“Then you might benefit from our protection,” Forg argued.

“Can you protect me from the scree?” he asked in surprise.

“No. But as soon as I see you writhing in pain on the floor, my weapon will be out. I will not hesitate to use it.”

“Against your own people?”

“These are not my people. The K’tiri have forsaken the honor of our name. They are my enemy.”

“Do you understand that I cannot reveal the location of my Queen to you?”

“I do, though that may change in time. I have heard of this Touch she uses. If, as I have been told, she can determine truth, I will submit to a Test.”

* * * * *

Val gave serious consideration to whether he should show up in Admiral Korban’s office as Sir Val or as Lieutenant Val. He decided to be a lieutenant again. As Sir Val, he would be admitted to Korban’s office immediately, but it would be impossible to keep his presence secret from the sector governor. Word of his identity would spread quickly enough from the passengers aboard Serendipity, but it would take hours to reach the military side of the base, and then it might simply be disbelieved. The downside to being a lieutenant again was that the rank ensured that several hours, and possibly several days, would be added to his quest – lieutenants did not easily reach the office of the sector commander.

In the end, he and Artmis decided that the greatest importance lie in Korban retaining as much control of events as was possible. Chandrajuski desperately needed someone in command to mount an offensive against the Rebels in Orion Sector. Without Korban, they’d have to start over, and probably at a lower level, adding months, if not years, to the process. The presence of a Knight of the Realm could, at least potentially, force the governor’s hand and cause Korban to be sacked. Val would keep as low a profile as he possibly could.

On the other hand, he might well be walking into a fatal ambush. He could not be certain of where Korban’s loyalty lay. Indeed, he wondered if Korban was still alive.

He left the ship as Lieutenant Val with an escort of six Chessori. He made good time: it took three hours for him to reach the outer defenses surrounding Korban’s office.

“Lieutenant Val with a dispatch for Admiral Korban,” he announced yet again. This time he was standing before a full commander.

“I’ll take the dispatch, Lieutenant,” the commander ordered without standing up.

“Sir, my orders are to deliver the dispatch to Admiral Korban personally.”

“Give me the dispatch, Lieutenant. I will personally deliver it.”

“Sorry, sir. There’s no written dispatch. It’s a verbal message.”

The commander rose angrily from his desk. “Who is the dispatch from?” he demanded.

“I can’t tell you, sir. Those are my orders.”

“You show up here with six Chessori demanding access to the admiral? You must be crazy! I can’t believe you’ve gotten this far. It’s as far as you’re going to get, Lieutenant. Dismissed.” The commander sat down again and returned to his paperwork.

Val leaned over the commander’s desk. “Would it help me or hinder me if I told you I’d recently been in discussion with Governor Veswicki?”

The commander looked up at him with a pained expression. “It might have helped if you hadn’t shown up with the Chessori. We don’t allow their kind in here. Sorry, kid. Get out.”

Val stood up and reached into his pocket, then leaned over the Commander’s desk again, speaking quietly. “Commander, you will show no change of expression on your face. Do you recognize this?” he asked, opening his hand.

The commander paled, but to his credit his eyes lifted to meet Val’s gaze without any change of expression. “I do. Are you from Struthers, then?”

“No. I am here on Imperial business. Notify Admiral Korban.”

“I won’t let the Chessori in, Sire.”

“Very well, they’ll wait outside.” Val ushered Forg and his men back through the door to wait in the corridor, then returned. The commander led him to the admiral’s office, which they entered without knocking. Val stepped across the threshold to find five blasters aimed at his midsection, including one in the hand of an aging admiral who stood behind a desk.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Lieutenant,” the admiral said grimly. “But before you do, hand your weapon butt first to Commander Gorvl.” Val hesitated. The admiral added, “Quickly, young man, if you value your life.”

Val handed over his blaster, then held his hand out to the admiral, his Knight’s Pin in plain view to all. “I take it you are Admiral Korban? I would speak with you in private.”

“No matter who sent you, there’s nothing you can say that these men cannot hear. I am Admiral Korban.” He holstered his blaster but remained standing. The other officers remained on their feet as well, their weapons still aimed at Val.

“What’s your name?” the admiral demanded.

“Sir Val, Knight of the Realm.”

“There is no realm anymore. Who are you from? Struthers? Has he resorted to this?”

“You had a visit some months ago from a young woman. You believed her enough to provide her with a changeable beacon. I am proof of her story, and I am proof that the Queen lives.” Val threw the Pin onto Korban’s desk. “You know the drill, Admiral. You are oath-bound to follow it. Open the Pin.”

“I suppose Struthers has discovered the secret to making these things.”

“Only one with the Touch can complete the process, as you well know.”

Korban picked up the Pin and attempted to open it, but he could not.

He placed the Pin back on the desk. “Okay, your turn,” he announced. Val reached for the Pin, but Korban’s hand grasped his before he touched it. “Not so fast. I do know the drill. If apologies are necessary later, I will make them, but a lot is at stake here. Just leave it on the desk and pass your hand over it.”

“No apologies are necessary,” Val answered. “I, too, understand the stakes.” With his gaze locked onto Korban’s, Val passed his hand over the Pin. The locket snicked open, and their gazes broke, Korban’s lowering to the pin, Val’s remaining on the admiral.

Korban stared at the Pin for a long time before his gaze lifted to meet Val’s, then traveled around the room to make contact with each of the other officers.

“It’s as she foretold,” he said in amazement. “It’s Daughter.”

“She’s your Queen now, Admiral.”

Weapons returned to their holsters, and Korban’s shoulders sagged. He fell back into his seat with his eyes closed. Val sensed that a terrible burden had been removed from his shoulders.

“At last,” Korban mumbled. He looked deeply into Val’s eyes. “She foretold your arrival. She told me to hold, and she told me that my burden would be heavy. She was right.”

Val’s lips compressed into a thin smile. “She usually is. She is my sister.”

Mike

Chapter Eight

Reba was bouncing off the walls, as always. Captain Palmetier encouraged her to spend as much time in the net with George as she could, thereby improving already good skills, but keeping her out of mischief as well.

George had all the latest refinements Shipyard could provide. Besides the updates to himself, his beacon was adjustable, he was capable of micro jumps, and he now carried four batteries of lasers, two lasers in each battery and each more powerful than before.

Resolve fast-shipped to the outskirts of Earth’s system, then reverted to normal speed, taking three weeks to reach orbit. During those three weeks, George kept his sensors busy searching for signs of Chessori or Rebel ships. He found no traces of them.

Mike waited until full twilight at the ranch in Wyoming before landing. Resolve settled down about a mile from the main house so as not to scare the livestock or any people who might be about.

Jessie prowled the grounds out of sight as Mike and Reba approached his home. Some eighteen months had gone by since Ellie had shanghaied Mike, a time during which his family had heard nothing from him. Two dogs gave the first warning, barking as they raced up to Mike, their tails wagging vigorously. The front door opened, and his father stepped out and stared, then closed the door behind him and waited. Mike walked up the three steps to the wide veranda with a hesitant smile. His father took him in a bear hug.

“You look fit, son.”

“I am fit. You look well, too, Dad.”

“The aging process is taking its toll, but I still carry my load. Introduce me to your lady if you would.”

“Sorry, Dad. It’s not like that. She’s got someone else in her sights. Her name is Rebecca Morrison, daughter of Senator Morrison of Virginia.”

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Morrison,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “Admiral Trexler told me you two were together. I want to hear all about it, but first I have to prepare your mother for this. Give me a few minutes. You don’t just want to appear in front of her. Wouldn’t be good for her.”

>So this is where you grew up?< Jake asked.

>It is. I rebuilt my car in the barn over there. Out beyond it is the stables where we kept our horses. Right beside it is the corral where we practiced roping steers.<

>Want to give a demonstration?<

>I’m pretty rusty. Are you ready to make repairs?<

>Maybe another time.< Jake chuckled. >I think we have bigger fish to fry at the moment.<

>We do. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t tell them about you right away.<

>Not a problem, Mike. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t ever tell them. It’s not necessary that they know, and they wouldn’t exactly be meeting me.<

>Not without going into the net they wouldn’t. We’ll see.<

>Are you going to tell them you’re married?<

>I don’t know. We’ll have to see how things go. I’m barely used to the idea myself.<

Mike sensed another grin from Jake. He, too, appreciated the incongruity of a man from Earth marrying the Queen of All Space. His head shook as he once more considered how lucky he was.

And he missed Ellie. Had there been any other way to deal with Earth, he would have stayed with her. Though she had a full complement of Protectors, she had no one from Earth to protect her from the Chessori. The Great Cats were good, and Ellie was on Shipyard, a world the Rebels did not know about, but he still worried.

Getting reunited with his parents was as wonderful as Mike had hoped it would be. He and Reba filled them in on their adventures, though they painted with a wide brush, giving only the barest details. Reba called her father’s cell phone, dragging him from his bed at home in Annapolis and informing him that she was back and in need of a meeting. She needed Admiral Trexler, as well.

They got little sleep that night: Jessie was introducing herself to the dogs, a critical step that might not succeed. Mike stepped out into the night with the dogs on leashes as Jessie approached and was surprised to see the confusion in the dogs’ minds. Clearly, Jessie looked threatening to them, but they had no memories of her smell, and she talked, ordering them as their master did, using all the right commands. And she had treats! It was touch and go, with growling, prowling, and whining all night. By the next morning, it looked as if an unhappy truce had been reached, though the dogs remained very uncertain.

Mike introduced Jessie to his parents the next morning. They remained almost as uncertain as the dogs.

He took them to the ship where they met Alexis and her four Protectors, Mildred the nanny, Captain Palmetier, and the rest of the crew. Expecting eagerness, Mike was disappointed at the forced cheerfulness of his parents. He quickly sensed they were utterly overwhelmed by the ship and the alien creatures that inhabited it. It was too far removed from their lifetime of focus on farm and family. He cut the visit short, never even mentioning George or Jake.

Mike had his doubts about their apparent willingness to take in Alexis and Mildred, but he had no ready alternative. His sister, Mary, lived nearby. When brought into the picture, she jumped at the opportunity until she realized the size of the group accompanying Alexis. Her home simply had no room for Mildred, the four Protectors, and her own family.

They took a time out. Mike and his father saddled up three horses while his mother prepared a picnic lunch, and the three of them rode out toward the foothills. Mike didn’t see Jessie, but he knew she was nearby. They didn’t have to go far, setting up lunch in a meadow beside a small stream where they had spent many happy times together fishing for trout.

>It’s a nice world you grew up on,< Jake said to Mike.

>It is, but I didn’t really appreciate it until I left, and that wasn’t completely voluntary.<

>But it is now. There’s nothing to stop you from staying.<

>You’re right. Just the small matter of my wife light years away and the minor uprising we’re trying to put down.<

>Well, I for one am glad she kidnapped you. We wouldn’t have met if she hadn’t.<

>I’m glad too, Jake. You’re home to stay for as long as you want.<

>You have a few hundred more years ahead of you with me aboard. I guess I’ll stick around. It’s not worth the trouble trying to fix up someone else.<

>Someday I hope to show my home to Ellie,< Mike said. >I don’t suppose we’ll ever have the opportunity to settle down here though.<

>Not likely. The Empire will never accept its King and Queen living anywhere but the Palace.<

>Well, maybe we’ll lose this war. Maybe then.<

>Don’t even think it, Mike. You know they’d find you.<

His lips pursed, but he did not respond. Instead, he asked a question of his parents, something he hadn’t really delved into since his arrival. “How’s the ranch doing?”

His dad smiled. “Doing well. Mary and John do all the running of it now. They manage the staff, the books, and most of the problems. I’m just a ranch hand most of the time, filling in where needed. And I’m happy with the arrangement. Your mother and I, for the first time in our lives, have freedom to travel, read, and do all the things retired people get to do. Since you kids moved out, we’ve gotten to know each other all over again. Guess what? We’ve discovered we love each other more than ever.”

His mother smiled. “We’ve missed you, Mike. I wish you could stay.”

He frowned. “You know I can’t, but you don’t know all of it. I’m married now.”

“To Ellie?” his mother asked with a smile.

“How did you know?”

“Every time you mention her, you either brighten up or show the worry that someone in love would show. I’m sorry we missed the wedding. When do we get to meet her?”

“It’s time for complete honesty here, Mother. And Dad,” he added, looking into his father’s eyes. “If we live through the next few years, maybe then. I hope it won’t take longer than that.”

“Is it so bad?”

“Yes, and no. Have you seen me without my weapon since I arrived? Even in the house?” Stares from each of them told him it had been very noticed. “It’s been bad, very bad, but I think we’re getting our act together. There’s something you should know. Have I given you any feeling for how large the community is out there?”

“We’re trying to grasp it, but probably not,” his father replied. “Thousands of worlds is pretty hard to picture.”

“It is, and it’s really hundreds of thousands of worlds. What I haven’t told you is that Ellie is in charge of it all.”

His parents looked at him with questioning looks etched onto their faces. How could he expect them to understand? He still had trouble with the concept himself.

“Mom, Dad, some women in Ellie’s family, and only her family, have been gifted with certain Talents that help them govern the Empire. Because of these gifts, these women have literally held the Empire together for thousands of years. She and Alexis are the only two remaining females of that long line, and these special abilities lie only in the women. To the Rebels, Ellie and Alexis are the most sought after targets in the galaxy. That’s why Alexis is here. As difficult as it is for Ellie to be separated from her daughter, she has ruled that they cannot both be in the same place for the time being.”

“Ruled?” his mother asked immediately.

“She’s Queen, Mother. Yes, she rules.”

“And you’re married to this person?” she asked, confused.

“I am. I don’t know how it happened. I can’t explain it, but I am. We’re very much in love.”

His mother shook her head while his dad looked at him with a question.

“Yes, Dad, I am,” he responded to the unspoken question. “I was first Knighted, then named First Knight, sort of like a prime minister or something. I’m embarrassed to tell you what my duties are supposed to be. Let’s just say that at this moment I command all her armed forces and will eventually lead the Imperial Senate, as well. If we prevail.”

“You know how to do this?” his father asked in amazement.

“Heck, no. I’m learning as I go. I have some incredibly talented help.”

>Thanks, Mike,< Jake broke into his thoughts.

>You bet, partner,< Mike thought silently.

“Protecting Ellie and Alexis is, and has been, my first priority,” he continued aloud. “Alexis is my daughter now, too. She needs a safe home, somewhere the Rebels and the Chessori would never think to look, but I’m getting the feeling that it might not work for you as I’d hoped. I can tell you’re overwhelmed with all this. Let’s speak honestly. Does leaving her and her nanny, as well as the four Protectors, here in your home work for you?”

A long silence ensued. His mother broke it by looking at her husband, saying, “Ellie is our daughter-in-law. That makes us this child’s grandparents.”

His father remained silent for a long time, chewing on a piece of straw he’d gotten from somewhere. “I guess it does,” he finally concluded. “It would put all of us, including Mary and the rest of the family, in a dangerous position.” He looked at Mike. “Do you want that for us?”

“I do not. I’m a little short on alternatives, though. The key to the whole thing is to keep it a secret. I haven’t found any place or anyone else that I trust. The cats’ home world, Brodor, is our second choice, but it’s also the most likely place for the Rebels to look.”

“What kind of security do you have in mind?” his father asked in his quiet manner.

“Several levels. You and mother are the last and final level, though I don’t believe it will ever come to that. We will provide weapons, and they’re easy to use. The next and most important level are the four cats. They are lethal and exceedingly good at protection. The next level will be special soldiers from our own army, once they’re selected. Their purpose is to counter the Chessori psi weapon I told you about. They and the cats will work as teams.

“The first level of security will be two ships in space. If a threat appears, one will immediately bring word to me or Ellie. The other will pick up Alexis if that is deemed appropriate. If enemy ships come, we’ll have several weeks of warning and will be able to get her away in plenty of time before they arrive. Our ships have some hyperspace capabilities these others not only don’t have but are not even aware of yet. The key is secrecy. We will keep our forces as small and compact as possible.”

His parents sat silently for a time, contemplating. He decided to go for a walk to give them privacy. When he returned, his father stuck out his hand.

“I guess this is more important than lazing around in retirement. We’ll do it, and do it happily. The best part of our lives has been raising you kids. We’re up to one more grandchild.”

* * * * *

Senator Morrison, his wife, and an exhausted Admiral Trexler arrived the next day. “Good to see you again, Mike,” Trexler said with outstretched hand while Reba and her parents reunited. “Where’s the lady?”

“Not here. We’re not out of trouble yet, but we have a plan. You’re very much a part of it.”

“Again? What do I have to do this time?”

“How would you like to go with us?”

Trexler’s gaze narrowed. “Be careful what you offer, I might take you up on it. Are you speaking for yourself or these aliens?”

“Both, sir. I’ve been, ah . . . promoted.”

“I see. And Reba?”

“Yes, she’s been promoted as well. She’s now Lady Rebecca, one of a very small, select group of Knights surrounding the lady you referred to, the lady we call Queen.”

“Queen!” Trexler exclaimed. “That lady was a queen? Queen of what?”

Mike lifted a hand and waved it at the sky, his eyes focused far beyond. “Everything out there,” he said. “Or, as she put it to me, ‘a thousand worlds would fill just one corner of her realm.’”

Trexler frowned, trying to adjust to the big picture. Mike took his shoulder with a knowing grin to lead him into the study for privacy. “Think big, Ray,” he continued. “Think real big, as in galaxy big. She’s the Queen, we’re in the middle of a coup, and we’re the good guys. This time I’m certain of it.” Mike coughed into his hand, clearing his throat while the admiral digested this news. “Ah . . . Ray, she wants to hire you.”

Trexler’s eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“Reba can’t wait to tell you. How about we take a stroll with her?”

The Carvers hosted a ranch style lunch, then Mike, Reba, Trexler, Senator Morrison, and Jessie went for a walk, just heading down the dusty lane.

“You look tired, Ray,” Reba observed as they set out.

“Your dad pulled some strings. I was in Beijing, China eighteen hours ago. Most of that eighteen hours has been spent in the back of a jet fighter going as fast as it could to get here. The President pulled out all the stops when your father called.”

“It’s appropriate, and we’ll make it up to you, Ray. We have a new job for you. You won’t need the old one anymore.”

“So I gather from Mike. He won’t tell me anything about it. Care to do the honors, or do you intend to keep me in anticipation, Lady Rebecca?”

Senator Morrison choked. “Lady Rebecca?”

Reba turned angry eyes to Mike. “You told him!”

“Sorry, I thought you had.”

Senator Morrison stopped them all with his arms outstretched. “Will you two get your story straight and tell us what’s going on here?”

Reba told the story all over again, this time holding nothing back. It turned into a very long walk. “So, Dad, as strange as it must sound, the Empire needs our help, as many as you can provide. We suspect it’s easier to start with the Special Forces types, we only need a few hundred, but we really need pilots and gunners to spread around our ships, as well. We think that will be a lot harder for you. We’ll train them, that’s not the problem, but we need people who will adjust. That is the problem. This will take your very best just to handle the psychological adjustments necessary. And it will be a hardship tour. We can’t bring their families right now, it would attract too much attention to Earth, and there will be no way for them to communicate with their families during their tour. We think we’re looking at two or three years, possibly more.”

“How many are we talking about?” Trexler asked.

“A few hundred ground troops and maybe a thousand officers for the fleet. Is that possible?”

Trexler and the Senator stared at each other, then walked off on their own for a time. They all met up back at the house where preparations for dinner were underway. Trexler excused himself and went into the study to make a phone call. Half an hour later he returned.

“The President will be here the day after tomorrow.”

“Here!” Mike exclaimed in disagreement. “No! That’s exactly what we don’t want. We can’t attract a lot of attention to Alexis. Everything has to stay low key. I’ll meet with him at the White House.”

“You certainly will, but not yet. You can’t leave here until the place is secure, and I don’t want to waste any more time than necessary.”

“I’m not needed here,” Mike responded angrily. “And we can’t have busloads of Secret Service people showing up.”

“No busloads, Mike. This will be low key. We’re real good at setting up secret meetings like this, and you are needed here. Who’s going to protect Alexis if the Chessori show up? Your crew will be out of the picture. I’ve seen it happen, remember?”

“We just got here, Ray, and we know there are no Chessori ships in the system. We checked.”

“What if they’re already here on the ground, hiding somehow? Alexis might be at her most vulnerable this very moment. It might be stretching probability, but from what you say, only Earthmen are immune to this mind weapon of theirs. We in this room are her only defense until we get our own troops here. Got any spare weapons you can pass out to me and the Senator?”

Alexis, Mildred, and the four Great Cats moved from the ship into the ranch house, then Resolve’s crew delivered crates of weapons to one of the barns. Reba returned to Resolve and lifted into space where George’s sensors would have the best coverage possible.

Admiral Trexler slept like a log, but Mike and Senator Morrison took turns sharing guard duty just in case Admiral Trexler was right about a possible ground attack.

By mid-morning of the following day, teams of Delta Force special operations soldiers began arriving, some dressed as farmhands in civilian pickup trucks, others simply appearing from . . . well, to Mike they just seemed to appear from nowhere. Four teams of nine gathered around their commander, Colonel Joshua Dace, inside the barn to receive a short briefing from Admiral Trexler. Mike attached translation devices to their ears, then three teams deployed to the fields surrounding the farmhouse.

The fourth team got the full treatment, including an introduction to the Great Cats. Mike was gratified at how quickly the men accepted their situation, as was Trexler. These were good men. Two of the Great Cats assisted with the training while two remained with Alexis. The translation devices did not remain in place for long; both the cats and the soldiers disdained jewelry while on duty. They immediately set out to develop hand signals in place of verbal commands. Empire weapons were offered, but the men chose to stay with what they knew. Blasters might be better weapons, but without live fire exercises, the men would not be as effective as they would be with the weapons to which they were accustomed.

This group then rotated to the field and another team came in for the same treatment, and by nightfall, all had been through the accelerated program. More training would take place during the ensuing days, but everyone in the house slept better that night.

The President arrived the next afternoon in a beat up old pickup truck, three security men accompanying him, two riding uncomfortably in the back, all four dressed as ranch hands. Admiral Trexler assured Mike that many other resources were in place to protect the President, but they would remain invisible.

The President’s briefing began in the living room, but it ended in orbit aboard Resolve. With everyone seated in the lounge, the President leaned forward, looking at each of them in turn before speaking. Then he rose to pace.

“I appreciate the briefing and the ride aboard Resolve. At this time, we have to move into the area of diplomacy. You represent this empire of yours and I represent Earth. Whatever actions I take, I will be representing not only my constituents but the whole world. I need answers to some hard questions, and if you’re able to convince me, you’ll then have to convince others who may be even more demanding. Until then, not a single soldier will leave this planet. Understood?”

Mike took up the challenge. “It’s not a perfect world, sir. It never is. I know what your first question will be, and my answer to it will not be conclusive.”

“Very well, then, do your best. It’s obvious that any actions we take on Earth to help this Empire of yours could place us in danger, a lot of danger. Is it a risk we should take? How do I know we’d be helping the good guys?”

“Is America a ‘good guy,’ sir?” Mike asked, then held up his hand to forestall the President’s indignation. “I say again: it’s not a perfect world out there, any more than it is here on Earth. Earth has thousands of years of history behind it, most of it tainted with extreme warfare. Many people on the planet are starving while the strong indulge. That’s the reality here, and it’s probably the reality out there,” Mike stated, pointing his hand at the ceiling. “I can’t say for certain, because I haven’t seen that much of it, but the Empire has its share of crime and unfairness.

“As for government, its members have chosen to join together through a representative Imperial Senate under the Queen’s guidance and have been doing so for thousands of years, longer by far than any political entities here on Earth have survived. It seems to work. The reason it works is that the system has eliminated most of the large scale brutality. Seldom does the Queen get involved in internal conflicts. She focuses, instead, on conflicts between worlds and societies, many of which are so different, even weird, that it’s fairly amazing that anyone can succeed at the task. Yet, until now all members of the Empire have continued to support the system, in part because of the Queen’s special abilities. Worlds that have not chosen to join are simply not permitted to interact with other worlds. It’s like the United Nations wants to be, except in this case, the Empire wields the largest bat.”

“Except for these Chessori. It appears they have a larger bat.”

“I can’t say, sir. We just don’t know what they’re up to yet. But forget the Chessori for a moment. At present, they’re just a tool used by the Rebels. This tool has potentially given these Rebels the means to take down a legitimate government. It’s really no different than if your top generals and admirals decided to do away with you and the rest of the political leadership here in America. Earth has seen it untold times throughout history. The generals have the power, and your leadership endures only so long as they permit it to endure. All it would take is one or two exceptionally charismatic generals to bring down the house of cards. If they did, would they represent the true wishes of the people?”

“Can you prove to me that is what’s happened to your Empire, that your Queen does serve at the pleasure of its members?”

Jake spoke privately to Mike. >Let Jessie tell her story. No one can doubt the value of Empire after hearing about her people.<

>You haven’t been around enough Earthmen yet, Jake. We doubt everyone.<

He turned to Jessie. “Will you tell your story?”

Jessie padded up to the President and sat. “My people call themselves ‘The People.’ Two thousand years ago we were already known as great warriors, and a few of us had gone out into the Empire to act as Protectors. We never developed space travel on our own, nor do we even now have a desire to do so. We’re at heart a primitive people, and we remain true predators. Our civilization is not particularly large, and we like it that way.”

She looked at the President with fierce eyes: this story still burned in the hearts of her people. “Another space-faring people were angered by certain actions of our Protectors. They decided to exterminate us, but they did not personally have the ability to do so. We are serious survivors. Instead of fighting us directly, they imported hordes of gleasons, the most feared creatures in the galaxy, to do their fighting for them, and the attempt nearly succeeded. We overcame the first and second deliveries of gleasons, but by then our ranks had been decimated. When the third delivery landed, we had little hope. The Empire came to our rescue before we succumbed, and at great risk to themselves, they helped us defeat not only the gleasons but the civilization that brought the gleasons to us. Since that time, my people have dedicated themselves to supporting and upholding the laws of Empire.”

She stared hard into the President’s eyes. “The Royal Family represents truth. The Empire enforces fairness, and within the memory of my people, it has always been so. We support both to the death.”

“Then why hasn’t your Empire shown itself to us? We have plenty of problems of our own that we could use some help with,” the President shot back.

“Earth is classified as an emerging world,” she stated. “Under ordinary circumstances, the Empire has a ‘hands off’ policy for such worlds. Interaction with the rest of the Empire changes emerging people, and like it or not, they are forever after unable to develop as they would have if left untainted. We have not come willingly to this table. Sir Mike has dragged us.”

“We’ll have to delve into this issue a lot more, but it can come later.” The President turned back to Mike. “Next issue: what risks do we incur?”

Mike had given this serious consideration. “My best guess is that there is no risk at all for the moment. That could change if our plan works, but that will be a year or two away, at least. By then, I hope to have sufficient forces in place to protect Earth. To the best of our knowledge, the Rebels do not know of our plan nor of the ineffectiveness of the Chessori mind weapon against the people of Earth. We have a plan to further delay their learning of this.

“However, I personally suspect that the Chessori know, or at least suspect, that we are different. It’s stretching the imagination a little, but if you consider all the reports here of alien abductions, and if you attribute some measure of truth to them, I think it’s possible the Chessori have been studying us for some time now, possibly to determine why we are immune to this weapon of theirs.”

He paused to let the President consider the idea. “Sir, I’m curious if the Roswell aliens are a myth or if they are real. From the stories I’ve heard, they appear to resemble the Chessori.”

The President eyed Mike suspiciously, then shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that, but I’ll definitely look into it. I see where you’re headed with this, and it could make a big difference to Earth’s level of risk. What kind of protection can you provide to the planet? Will it be effective?”

“I can’t give you absolute assurances, sir,” Mike responded, “in part because we know so little about the Chessori. But by the time the Rebels figure out what we’re up to, we’ll either be well on our way to success and more than capable of protecting Earth, or we will have failed and the Empire will be in decline. If we fail, as far as the Rebels and the Empire are concerned, the threat to Earth will evaporate. They won’t care about our special abilities.

“As for the Chessori, if they don’t already know about Earth, they will not find out from us or our activities. If they already know about Earth, we humans are probably perceived as a potentially serious threat to them, but not until we develop space travel.”

“Not true,” the President said. “We don’t have to develop space travel, we only have to travel in space, and that’s just what you’re planning to do with these recruits.”

“Consider the alternative, sir. Suppose Earth chooses to avoid this conflict, to remain on the sidelines, to stay safe. Without our help, I believe the Empire will fall. If the Empire falls, Earth will share some of the blame in condemning the rest of the Empire to whatever fates befall them. More important, when chaos reigns and some alien race decides to take Earth under its wing, it will do so whether we want it to or not. And the Chessori are still out there, ready to pounce on Earth whenever they feel like it, especially if the human race continues its steady march into space. Is that the future you choose for mankind? Do we bury our heads in the sand, give up the conquest of space, and stop being who and what we are, or do we risk?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it.”

“I do not know it, sir. Based on the best intelligence I have concerning the Chessori, two things stand out. The Empire will lose this war if the Chessori mind weapon is not neutralized, and we are the only species in the galaxy immune to that weapon.”

Reba leaned forward in her chair. “Whatever course you choose, Mr. President, Earth’s continued existence may, even now, be only at the whim of the Chessori. Sir, that’s like standing in front of a lion without any means of protecting yourself. Your only hope is that the lion is not hungry. That scares the heck out of me. Whether you like it or not, Earth is already at terrible risk, right this moment.

“Be proactive, sir. We can make a difference, and we can assure the future of our world in the process.”

“If we live long enough.” He turned back to Mike. “You’re saying that if we stay out of this, we’ll be living in fear forever. If we help, we live in fear for a little while. How long?”

“Probably at least a year, maybe two. We’re going to train the men and women you give us, then we’re going to hit the Chessori hard and fast. As soon as we have enough ships under our control, we’ll send some to Earth. It’s likely that by the time anyone realizes where our guys are from, we’ll be here protecting Earth.”

“Hmm.” The President wasn’t particularly happy with this answer, and he was less happy seeing his options melt away.

Mike stood up. “Sir, I give you my personal assurances that the Empire will do everything in its power to protect Earth. Don’t forget, I’m from Earth, too. I can almost guarantee you that a significant fleet will arrive within the next year or two, a fleet that will remain invisible to the civilians here but that will be adequate to beat off any attack against Earth.”

“And during that two year period, there’s nothing you can do?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be done. Earth has been ignorant and defenseless for thousands of years. If we keep this whole thing under wraps, no one will have reason to treat us any differently.” Mike held up a hand. “There is some risk, sir. I believe it minimal, but haven’t we always risked in order to advance?”

“What advancement are we talking about? What do you offer in return?”

“Let me be completely candid here, Mr. President. To America only, I offer nothing. To the world, I offer eventual membership in the Empire if they so choose. I won’t promise you a timetable, that will have to be worked out by experts who know a lot more than I do about people’s reactions to all of this. The last thing any of us wants is for civilization here on Earth to melt down over knowledge of extraterrestrials. It’s probably a good homework assignment for you.” Mike smiled, knowing that the President was probably not accustomed to being given assignments.

The President got up to pace again. “You’re right, Mike: it’s never easy. The galaxy isn’t going to go away even if we close our eyes to it. Humanity has reached a turning point: we’re on the cusp of a fundamental change to our beliefs and ways of life. I, personally, intend to have a part in it. You will have your soldiers and sailors.”

He turned to Admiral Trexler. “Do you have a plan?”

Trexler stood up. “Yes, sir. But it is fundamentally important that we not limit our selection of individuals to our own military forces. History demands that this be a global effort. Common sense dictates that it remain known to only a limited number of people, as well. It must remain undetectable to everyone not within a very small circle of decision-makers. I’m suggesting, sir, that we recruit from as many different cultures as possible. Some of our recruits will be active military, but many can come from those who have retired. Mike tells me that we’re not looking for quick, young reflexes here as much as we are for cool heads, individuals that will at all times also have to be diplomats. I’ve spent a career getting to know people from all over the planet, and the assignment you gave me a year and a half ago, to bring word to certain national leaders that we are not alone, has opened many doors. I’m certain I can network these resources to come up with the people we need, and it can be done quietly.”

“Very well. Find an office somewhere and get moving on it. Mike and I will focus on the political end of things while you and Lady Rebecca do the legwork.”

Two months later they were ready to go. Mike had traveled much of the globe in order to convince political leaders it was in their best interest to allow some of their best people to leave the planet. Admiral Trexler and Reba had spent innumerable hours interviewing candidates. About half of those selected were pulled from retirement, and some were senior officers on active duty. Surprisingly, they acquired a number of very senior officers, individuals who were willing to give up lucrative commands in order to go into space where they would simply be crewmembers with no command authority at all until, and unless, they came under attack by the Chessori.

Mike was home visiting his parents when he was approached by Colonel Dace, the officer in charge of the Delta Force soldiers guarding Alexis. One of the Greats Cats accompanied him.

Dace had impressed Mike on the day he arrived. Whereas most of his troops tended to be large, husky men, Dace was wire thin and of medium height, and Mike had been surprised that a person of average size could pass all the grueling training required of these very special soldiers. Dace had not only passed, he had come up through the ranks the hard way, having entered the Army as a private. He did not have the hardened look of a professional killer as many of his men did. Instead, he frequently smiled, even cracked jokes from time to time, and he seemed completely at ease with the responsibilities thrust on him by the strange assignment. Mike had quickly discovered that he was not an armchair officer. He was a natural leader and accepted no less from himself than he required of his men.

Dace saluted him. “Sir, I respectfully request that my men and I accompany you on your mission. We’re prepared to ship out as soon as we train our replacements.”

The request caught Mike completely off guard. “Colonel, I was told you and your men are the best the Army has. You’re needed here.”

“Agreed, sir, but we’re needed even more where you’re going. We have a two month jump on learning how to work with the Protectors, and we can speed up the process for the rest of the men that go with us. From what I hear, the mission you have in mind for your men is more critical than the mission here. I will personally guarantee you that our replacements are up to the task before we leave.”

“How much do you know about the mission out there?” Mike asked.

“I know what you told us, and I’ve had further conversations with Lady Rebecca. Horth here has filled in a few blanks, as well.”

“I don’t see you wearing the translating device, Colonel.”

“We use it occasionally, sir. All my men are multilingual. It’s one of the requirements of every special operations soldier. We’ve managed to pick up a little of the lingo. Not much, but a little. We learn faster without the device.”

Mike turned to Horth, speaking in Galactic High Standard. “Do you know what’s going on here, Horth?”

“I do, Sire, and I support his request. Under his leadership, his men have learned to coordinate their activities very well with our own.” He awarded Mike with the toothy grin favored so much by the Great Cats. “Just like you, Sire, they are quick to learn. Colonel Dace and Otis will function well together to prepare the rest of the men for their duties.”

“But you have little support here. If it comes to a fight, you need the very best.”

“I am assured by Joshua that his replacements will be up to the task. Great fighters can be provided, but I have watched Joshua and his men carefully. They are all leaders. Each one functions efficiently with the rest of the team, but also on his own, needing no guidance, an important quality for Protectors. I can’t say Joshua and his men are the best your planet has to offer, but I doubt if anyone is better. Most important, I believe they will fit well with my brothers. His request is more specific than simply accompanying you to train the rest of the men. Has he informed you of his plans?”

Mike turned back to Josh. “Horth says there’s more to your request.”

“There is, sir. I’d like me and my men to be assigned to the Queen’s personal guard.”

“All of you?” Mike asked in surprise.

“However many it takes, but definitely led by me,” Josh answered.

“I don’t think you know what you’re letting yourself in for,” Mike replied grimly. “While I can’t say exactly how all this will play out, I can tell you that we anticipate having to smuggle the Queen into a Senate meeting hosted by the enemy. She will have to speak, and depending on the outcome, we may have a real firefight on our hands, both coming and going. All that in addition to potential assassins more hideous than you can imagine striking at any moment. There will be losses, Colonel.”

Josh pursed his lips. “About what we thought. We’ve discussed this, sir. My guys are willing to commit for the duration. I’ve selected men from all over the planet: Delta Force, Green Berets, Navy Seals, British SAS, and others. My guys in particular have been together for some years now. We’ve been an elite group within a larger elite group and have been tasked by the White House on a number of occasions for special missions. We’ve seen combat, we’ve rescued hostages, and we’ve provided personal protection to VIP’s. We’re mature, we’re effective, and just as important, we can be counted on to not betray a confidence. The Queen will need us near her at all times. We’ll be right there in meetings at the highest level and there won’t be many secrets kept from us. She and her staff can feel comfortable discussing things in front of us that will go no further, guaranteed.”

Josh paused for a moment before continuing, looking Mike straight in the eyes. “You see my men as trained killers, sir. What you don’t see and may not know is that every single one of them functions as an executive. Every one of them is a college graduate, each of them has had to demonstrate high intelligence, they’re good planners, and every one of them is a leader.”

“What about families?”

Josh rubbed his hand along his jaw as he considered. “That’s the tough part, isn’t it? There’s no good way to leave families behind, though we’ve done it before for shorter periods of time. It’s a terrible sacrifice, more so for our families than ourselves. My wife will skin me alive, but she’ll also be proud if she’s ever allowed to know what we’ve done. My men are pretty much all in the same boat there.”

“We’re not asking anyone to keep this a secret from their spouses, Josh. We just don’t want it going any further than that.” He took Josh’s hand and shook it. “You’re in, if Admiral Trexler agrees. You realize that the Queen’s security detail answers to me?”

Josh smiled. “You I can handle, sir. It’s this Otis guy I’ve heard about that concerns me.”

“We’ll see about getting you a few days off before we ship out. I’ll talk to the admiral, but you’d better get started on finding your replacements.”

“Already done, sir. I just need the go ahead. If you’re willing, I’ll make the call to Admiral Trexler.”

Mike nodded and Josh saluted him, then at a hand signal from Josh, he and Horth turned away.

A week before the anticipated departure from Earth, two freighters from Serge arrived in orbit with the message Val had sent via drone to Parsons World. Colonel Dace arrived in Washington, DC with the message, joining Mike, Reba, and Admiral Trexler in their hotel.

Val’s message explained that, though he had not yet reached Orion III, he believed Admiral Korban had bowed to pressure from above to place Chessori observers aboard some or all of his ships. Val believed the Chessori’s purpose was identical to what he had experienced aboard his own cruiser, Beta IV. The Chessori would be held in reserve until needed, then simply take over Empire ships at will. Orion Sector could well be lost if the Chessori were not rooted out from the ships and from sector headquarters. Was it possible for Earth to supply soldiers specifically for this job? Just a few per ship would be a huge help, though more would be better. He couldn’t know for certain how entrenched the Chessori were on Orion III, and other sectors might be at risk as well.

Val appended a couple of important pieces of intelligence. He believed the Chessori communicated telepathically. The range of this communication was unknown. It might be the interstellar communications system they had heard about, though that seemed farfetched to him. Because of this telepathic ability, all ships within a squadron would have to deal with the Chessori at the same instant and from an isolated position far out in space between worlds. If they didn’t, the Chessori would have the ability to warn Chessori in other ships. If the range of this telepathic ability was interstellar, they had a much more serious problem, possibly an insurmountable problem.

He desperately needed several hundred men. A thousand would be better.

Val’s last item brought a gasp from Mike. Val informed him that though the Chessori had partnered with the Rebels, their ultimate goal was to replace the Rebels and take the Empire for themselves.

Mike turned to Trexler, shaken. “Can your guys clear ships?”

“Definitely not. They can fly, and they can man guns, but they’re not hand-to-hand guys. What Val needs is soldiers trained at urban warfare. They’ll be clearing corridors and fighting room to room within the confines of a ship.”

Colonel Dace was the first to speak. “We barely scratched the surface of global special operations troops when we put my group together, but what you’re describing is perhaps the most difficult fighting of all, and the casualties will be high. You need really good men, but you need men you can afford to lose.”

“I’m not sending anyone into certain death,” Mike replied.

Trexler corrected him. “You don’t want to, but you might have to, Mike. Welcome to the ranks of colonels, generals, and admirals. We sometimes have to make those hard choices.” He held up a hand as Mike prepared to argue. “We’re not going to send anyone into certain death, but we are going to send them into certain danger. There will be losses. It’s our job to minimize those losses by choosing the right people, then training, equipping, and leading them. It’s also our job to ensure a steady flow of replacements as the men get used up. We have a fairly large body of men trained with just the skills you need. They’re called Rangers. There’s probably no one on the planet better at urban warfare. We’ll have to see the President again.”

“We have to keep it an international force if we can.”

“I’m not going to make that call,” Trexler replied. “What do you think, Josh?”

“We need to select the leader of these men and let him decide,” Josh answered without hesitation. “And I know just the guy for you. His name is Colonel Waverly. He was a Green Beret before Delta recruited him. He’s back with the Rangers now, and I’ve worked with him on occasion when we needed backup from the Rangers. If you can get him, we won’t have to wait around while he gets everything together. He’s been in special operations most of his career, except when he’s been on loan to other countries to liaise with their own special operations guys, and if anyone can put together an international force of urban warfare experts, it’s him. And he’s seen a lot of action. There’s no one better to call the shots.”

“Where will he get his troops? Can we come up with the thousand Val requested?”

“Our Rangers can easily spare a thousand, but Waverly has contacts all over the world. He can bring in British, Israelis, Russians, and he’ll probably bring more SEALS, Marine Recon and Green Berets, maybe even Military Police, and some Shore Patrols,” Josh answered. “The Marines and SP’s are well-trained on shipboard duties; they might be a good resource for tactics aboard ships. The rest specialize more in street fighting, but the skills are similar. Waverly will get them, he’ll make sure they’re very good, and he’ll make sure they speak English. And a thousand won’t be any problem at all. Waverly can get the first batch on their way, then someone else can start working on reinforcements and replacements.”

Assignments were finalized: Mike would accompany Josh and his men to Brodor while Reba remained on Earth to work with Waverly. When Waverly’s group left for Centauri III, she would accompany them. That left Trexler on his own, but only until reaching Parsons’ World. There he would have the full support of Chandrajuski’s fleet.

Senator Morrison was present to see them off. Just before boarding his ship, Mike handed him an envelope containing a note from Val. After reading it, the senator sighed. “He’s asking my permission for Reba’s hand. I already like him. Reba’s told me all about him. He seems exceptional.”

“He is,” Mike agreed. “In every way. I can’t offer higher praise.”

“Well, when you see him tell him he has my blessing, and thanks for asking. I’ll put in a request that they wait until her mother and I can attend, but we’ll understand if they don’t.”

Mike grinned. “They’re separated by light years at the moment. I’ll pass on the message.”

“Light years might even be a challenge for Reba,” Senator Morrison answered morosely but with a grin. “God bless you all.”

Three freighters from Parsons’ World landed at night on a remote dry lake in Nevada. Awaiting them were Trexler’s 1,000 pilots and gunners destined to spread throughout Chandrajuski’s fleet and Dace’s 300 Delta, SEALS, and SAS specialists. The two ships destined for Parsons’ World left first, each carrying half of Trexler’s officers. The remaining ship lifted for Brodor soon after, carrying Mike, Dace, and the men who would be Protectors.

Chapter Nine

Excitement filled Admiral Raymond Trexler’s thoughts as he boarded his ship in the high Nevada desert, but the excitement was soon replaced with misgivings. Rudimentary furnishings had been provided in cargo holds for his 500 men and women, but there was little privacy. Not a great beginning for his recruits, he grumbled to himself as he moved among them offering words of encouragement and patience. He had expected more from this Empire he had agreed to help, but he was not about to admit it to anyone but himself.

Translator devices were handed out, and once they were in space, Serge’s captain spoke to them, apologizing for the accommodations but informing them that their stay on the ship would be brief. The trader was a fast ship, and the voyage would only last a few weeks.

Trexler knew that at the moment his biggest enemy was inactivity. He sought out the captain, and together they constructed a full agenda for the recruits. Language training was a high priority, and Serge had sent several language specialist to get them started. Crewmembers, when available, led groups of recruits on tours of the ship, including the bridge, while others held classes in galactic geography and Empire government. Trexler and his senior staff were offered opportunities to enter the net, and all but Trexler did. He chose to defer his own training, deciding that his presence among his recruits was more important.

Reports from the officers who entered the net filtered down continually, giving hope and confidence to everyone. Yes, it was possible to learn to fly the ship, and yes, it was a lot of fun.

Admiral Chandrajuski greeted Trexler on Parsons’ World and whisked him and his senior officers to a meeting while everyone else got settled into quarters. The second ship landed right behind the first, and Trexler’s 1,000 recruits were a single unit once again.

Trexler was impressed with the program Chandrajuski had thrown together. Not only were lessons and coursework ready, Chandrajuski had thoughtfully arranged for the well-being of the recruits as well. Each received a complete physical, and in some cases, cures for ailments that were just an ordinary part of life on Earth. Glasses and contact lenses soon disappeared – they were no longer needed. Certain pathogens were erased from a large number of these aging warriors, and exercise periods were a required part of the curriculum but with a twist. Elementary language lessons took place during the exercise periods, even when the words were not completely understood. Shouting out proper pronunciation during repetitions was a great way to accustom voices to demands of the new language they would learn, and repetition taught numbers and letters.

Chandrajuski was astounded when Ellie dropped from hyperspace. He, Serge, and Trexler met her as she disembarked from the trader late that same day, her Protectors surrounding her. Trexler kneeled beside them, and she stopped before him in surprise. “Admiral Trexler?” she asked.

“At your service, Your Majesty,” he said, looking up at her with a grin.

She took his hand, forcing him to stand, and just stared at him, then turned to Chandrajuski. “Do you know who you have here?” she asked.

“He’s in charge of the recruits from Earth, Your Majesty. You know him?”

She stepped back to study Trexler, directing her words to Chandrajuski. “Do you remember the admiral who helped Mike and me escape from Earth?”

Chandrajuski’s head swung toward Trexler on his long neck. “You’re him?”

“I am, sir.” He turned to Ellie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again. Your situation is improved this time, but not by much.”

“Indeed, it is not. Mike said you would likely be out of a job after we left, that there was no approved method in military circles for dealing with aliens, and you’d be sacked. I’ve always regretted that.”

“There were some interesting meetings after you left, but I managed to hold on. I lost my fleet, but I was promoted and given the job of spreading the word of you aliens to carefully selected world leaders. Mike pulled me from that job, too.”

She smiled. “Much to our benefit, Admiral. I’m pleased that you’re here, and pleased that you have heard my call and responded a second time. This time, it must have been by choice.”

“Definitely by choice, Your Majesty. Mike, Reba, and Alexis were all well when I last saw them.”

“I needed to hear that. Thank you. Will you three meet with me in my quarters? I’d like to be brought up to date, and I want to know what I can do here to assist with the training of our newest recruits.”

“Your Majesty?” Chandrajuski said in shock.

“You heard me. I’m going to help. If nothing else, I managed to pick up a little of the language from Mike and Reba, and my Rider is from Jake’s line. It knows the language well. Perhaps I can help my recruits with their language lessons.”

She took Trexler by the arm and walked away, leaving Chandrajuski and Serge Parsons staring at each other in amazement.

Ellie jumped right into the language lessons. Her students immediately focused on the Great Cats accompanying her, so she concentrated her first lessons on them. Expecting to find the training monotonous, she instead found it exhilarating. Within a couple of months, the only language permitted at the training facility was Galactic High Standard except during technical classes where translating devices were required.

When she wasn’t teaching, she was talking. She insisted that, regardless of how full the training schedule was, these men and women from Earth had the right to know the full story, not only of the Chessori and the rebellion, but of the impact others from Earth had already made within her Empire. Schedulers made certain she spoke before every class of recruits, and Mike and Reba’s story became well-known to these warriors. A sense of pride filled them, and more important, she convinced them that they could, in fact, learn this job and make a difference. In her estimation, it wouldn’t be long before their own stories added to the tale.

Serge’s training facilities worked around the clock with the goal of each recruit experiencing the net within the first few days after arrival. Even ships in port were used to bring the recruits into the net. By the end of the second week, some 100 had moved on to weapons training. By the end of the second month, everyone was flying ships in the simulator mode. Detailed training in handling ships and weapons under battle conditions soon followed. Admiral Seeton’s ships, the squadrons he had promised, began arriving at about the same time. Trexler sent half of the recruits into space to continue their training, rotating each half of the trainees on a two week cycle.

In some ways, Trexler’s recruits had the easiest training regimen, but in the long run theirs was the most technically demanding. They had the net to train them, but unlike Mike’s hurried training on Earth, these warriors not only had to learn to handle their ships, they had to learn to function as a battle group, and the standards set by Chandrajuski and his admirals were much higher than Mike had ever achieved.

Two difficult stumbling blocks presented themselves. The first was language. Though language was not an issue in the net, each of Chandrajuski’s ships would be staffed with only a limited number of Terran crewmembers, and they had to function side-by-side with fully qualified Empire officers when outside the net. The second problem was the attitudes of the Empire crewmembers. They were understandably proud of their positions, and they, too, were warriors. They did not relish the thought of turning battles over to newcomers from an emerging world. None of these ships had fought the Chessori, and none of the crewmembers had experienced the scree. Until they did, the Terran sailors had to focus on diplomacy almost as much as training.

Chandrajuski’s staff took care of administration, ensuring the recruits focused only on training, but Trexler and his senior staff could not avoid all administration. Every minute of every day was full for these leaders. Chandrajuski himself was in and out during these months of training, shuttling by fast ship to Aldebaran I and other sectors to meet with various admirals and politicians.

At Ellie’s request, Trexler joined her for dinner whenever he could get away. Rather than giving him a break from his duties as she intended, it usually just meant less sleep for him, but the two of them became instant friends.

“Mike tells me that knowledge of aliens could have a severe impact on Earth culture,” she said as they relaxed before dinner.

“Earth cultures, you mean. We’re like a kettle of soup, with beliefs ranging from one extreme to the other. All the parts go together to create a fine dish, but the individual parts remain just that – individual. Many of our people have no common grounds for coming together.”

“Perhaps knowledge that they are not alone will provide that common ground.”

He winced. “I wish it was so, but I don’t think it is. Not only are national identities strong, many are rooted in religious beliefs that are thousands of years old, beliefs that put humanity at the center of everything. It’s my understanding that most religions have no provisions for accepting outsiders. Many will brand the Empire as evil. It’s a huge problem, and there’s no way we’re going to hide our efforts out here for long.”

“What’s being done about it?”

“Knowledge is the key, and time is an important element in the process. My people tend to resist change even when it’s good for them. World leaders are spreading the word carefully, and they’re including religious leaders. I was part of the process just before coming here. The plan is to give these leaders time to consider how they will integrate their teachings with knowledge that we are not alone. I don’t know if the process will be successful.”

“Mike really wants to bring Earth into the Empire.”

“So do I. That doesn’t mean we’ll succeed. There will be great hope and opportunity for some, and strong resistance from others. It could easily lead to war, and I mean global war.”

She looked away from him in distress. “My Empire will not force itself upon Earth.”

“Mike’s very words, but that’s not the problem. Even if we choose to remain separate, to bury our heads in the sand and try to ignore you, the fact that you’re out here will not go away. Beliefs will be tested and tested hard. I can’t predict the outcome. And the Chessori are not going to go away.”

“The Chessori are an exterior element, and it’s my job to protect Earth from outside aggression. The Empire will not let the Chessori take over Earth.”

“At the moment, the Chessori are beyond your means to control. One single ship with the right germs aboard could wipe out all life on Earth. There are indications that the Chessori have been studying Earth for many years. I think we know why, and if they’re so inclined, they probably have the means to exterminate us. Actually, as strange as it might sound, the Chessori threat could be the thing that unites Earth. Beliefs are strong, but the will to survive is, I believe, even stronger.”

“I give you my word that I will do everything I can to protect Earth from the Chessori.”

“I know you will, Your Majesty.”

“Ray, I have a name. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and it’s time you started calling me by my name when we’re in private.”

“Your Majesty, I don’t even call my President by his name. I don’t think anyone does except his family.”

“My name is Ellandra of the Chosen. Do you know what it means to be one of the Chosen?”

“I do, Your Majesty.”

“Mike shortened my name. He calls it a nickname, and I like it. Among my closest friends I’m known as Ellie. Got it, Ray?”

He smiled. “Got it, Ellie, though I confess I find it strange to be calling the Queen of All Space, as Mike refers to you, by a nickname.”

“It’s a small circle that has earned the privilege. You’re one of them, and I’m counting on each of you to speak plainly even when we are not in agreement. Understood?”

“Understood, Ellie. I insist on the same treatment in my own command.”

“What can I do to help you and Mike bring Earth into the Empire?”

Trexler turned away as he considered. When he spoke, it was without hesitation. “First and foremost, protect us from the Chessori, but as soon as we can, we need to find the means for Earth to help in the process. Mike and I need to focus nations on survival of our species rather than fighting each other. Earth can’t just sit idly by while you do the fighting for us. We need to take part in the process, struggle mightily to build whatever machines are necessary to fight, and supply fighters from all over the globe to do the fighting. If we can make it a global effort, the process has some hope of unifying us.

“Beyond that, two items of significance come immediately to my mind. The first is that our energy production is, in most cases, carbon based. We’re drilling all over the planet to bring petrochemicals to the surface where we convert them to energy to power our cities, factories, and transportation systems. In the process, we’re not only polluting the planet, we’re fighting over the resources. The Empire has moved beyond this technology, and Earth needs that technology.

“Second, if you have the means to somehow neutralize nuclear weapons, we might just survive whatever conflicts arise while we adjust to the knowledge that we are not alone. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. Chandrajuski might. The Rebels used a nuclear weapon at the Palace to instigate the coup. It was a weapon that did not destroy buildings, but the radiation killed everyone.”

Trexler nodded. “We have similar weapons. I’ll discuss it with him.”

“Do we have time to settle our differences with the Rebels before we address the problems on Earth? My resources are quite limited at the moment.”

He stared at her for a time as he considered. “Probably not. From what Mike tells me, you’re not going to defeat the Rebels without defeating the Chessori, and if my forces from Earth are successful, the Chessori, and maybe the Rebels, are going to focus on Earth as soon as they figure out what’s going on.”

She nodded, frowning. “The Chessori appear to be another empire in and of themselves. We have no idea whether their resources are limited or massive, nor do we have the means to take this war to them. Not yet.”

He stood up to pace. “Can you isolate the Chessori that are already here, keep them from being reinforced?”

She shook her head. “No. Space travel doesn’t work that way.”

“Then you have to isolate the Rebels, defeat them in spite of their Chessori partners. Without local assistance, the Chessori would have no bases.”

“We’re working on a plan to do just that. Defeating the Rebels militarily means all-out civil war, and I won’t allow that. I plan to defeat them politically.”

Trexler’s eyebrows raised. “How?”

She grimaced. “I’m not certain. We’re working on a plan. It will, most likely, require me to address the Imperial Senate in person. It so happens that the Imperial Senate convenes on my home world, a world that is now Rebel headquarters.”

Trexler blinked, several times. “And you’re going to speak there? How? Is it possible?”

She stood up to face him. “I don’t know. The very thought terrifies me, but I will do whatever is necessary to prevent civil war. Train your men well, Ray. I’m going to need their help.”

* * * * *

Chandrajuski assigned Admiral M’Coda, a Schect and the best tactician he knew, to mentor Trexler through his training. In addition to mentoring Trexler, M’Coda constantly evaluated the other candidates from Earth for command positions. He and Trexler would select the individuals who were best qualified to command squadrons, and a select few would go on to further training as fleet commanders responsible for multiple squadrons. Fleet tactics were still under development, and these few individuals would become part of that development.

Chandrajuski, Jeffers, and M’Coda met with Admiral Trexler and two of his senior staff to determine the minimum battle staffing of Terrans for each ship, assuming the scree disabled all regular ship’s personnel. A typical squadron consisted of fourteen ships: a cruiser, one frigate, and twelve fighters. Heavy squadrons included a second frigate, and light squadrons had no frigates at all and only six fighters. Cruisers alone normally sailed with a staff of some 1,500 officers and sailors, and another 500 were needed to staff the rest of the ships, more when the squadron was augmented with the second frigate.

A cruiser mounted over a hundred weapons, all controlled by twelve batteries of multiple weapons through the net. Each weapon needed a gunner. Additionally, the bridge required an absolute minimum of three officers, one in command of the squadron, another commanding the ship and monitoring damage control, and the other flying the ship. Repairs by Terrans during battle would be limited, falling to the ship’s normal complement subsequent to the battle or during a respite if one occurred. A cruiser needed 30 of Trexler’s men all by itself just to permit a minimal level of offensive capability. The Operations Center, at least initially, would not be manned by Terrans. There just weren’t enough Terrans to go around. The Terran squadron commander would lead from the bridge of the cruiser.

The smaller ships each needed a captain, a pilot, and a gunner for each gun. Total minimum staffing for these ships came to 60.

Ninety men for each squadron meant they could only field eleven squadrons, not nearly enough. Discussion became heated, but Chandrajuski made the final decision. Each squadron would receive one-half of the necessary complement of Terrans. They would just have to make it work. Aboard cruisers and frigates, one Terran would have to operate a battery all by himself. They would be going up against Empire ships, but those ships, too, would likely be operating with reduced staffing. As soon as the Chessori activated their scree, only the Chessori would be available to fly and fight the ship.

No one was certain how many Chessori were aboard Rebel ships, nor did anyone know their levels of expertise, but it seemed reasonable to count on a significant reduction in capability. After all, the Chessori’s primary weapon was the scree. They would anticipate easy pickings from any attackers.

Trexler knew and understood the odds. He also knew that the Chessori’s best defense would be to keep the Rebel ships fully functional by not using the scree. If the Chessori had that level of discipline, his men and women would face a fully operational opponent and would not stand a chance. They would have no option but to back out of the net and let the Empire crews duke it out. If the scree was used, the odds were very much improved and his men had a chance.

He would have liked to think that everything depended on the skill levels of his men and women, but in reality everything hinged on the abilities and discipline of the Chessori. In his favor, his crews were all warriors, and they were, in effect, defending their home. They would be effective if given the slightest chance.

Chandrajuski fielded 22 squadrons consisting of some 270 ships. Still not nearly enough, but it would have to do. Initially, their only purpose was to rid the Empire of ships taken over by the Chessori. It soon became apparent, however, that other demands would be made on these squadrons. One minimally trained squadron was dispatched to Brodor at Mike’s request. Three more squadrons would be used for picket duty at Parsons’ World, and one squadron would be assigned to travel with the Queen. Engineers were converting as many ships as they could into fast ships, but it was a slow, tedious process. Clearly, if Struthers discovered that Parsons’ World was Ellie’s headquarters, he would attack in overwhelming numbers. They had to keep a reserve of ships there.

Trexler was now wishing he’d brought two or three thousand more sailors with him. It was an unreasonable wish, but he wished for it anyway. After much soul searching, he dispatched an officer back to Earth with a request for more help: any combination of pilots and gunners for the fleet and more special operations ground troops for Waverly. The new troops would be months away, but it was his responsibility as commander to ensure a steady stream of reinforcements and replacements.

Krys

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.

Mike

Chapter Eleven

Training for the Delta Force volunteers headed for Brodor began as soon as they left Earth. Mike lectured on the political situation, the nature of the enemy, descriptions of various ships, weapons, and their capabilities, and he gave everyone an introduction to Jessie who, for most, was their first view of one of the Great Cats they would work beside. The roles these soldiers would play during the coming troubles was fully explained, including the fact that they, themselves, would have to work out methods for teaming up with the cats. He packed as much language training into each day as they could withstand, and with surprisingly good results. These men really were exceptional, and they refused to rely on the translation devices.

Josh insisted that nothing of substance be withheld from his men. He also insisted that, in keeping with the traditions of special operations soldiers everywhere, even senior officers participated in the training, and that included Mike. Daily PT, hand-to-hand fighting, the use of knives and other killing tools, and team tactics were spread throughout the weeks enroute to Brodor. Though these men were intimately familiar with these tools of their trade, they constantly practiced and reviewed.

When Mike wasn’t teaching, they taught him, and they just about killed him. Rank held no privileges with these men. They were all on a first name basis with their superiors, and all were senior enlisted men or officers anyway.

In the beginning they genuinely embarrassed Mike whenever possible, a part of their life that he thought he would never get used to. He had experienced the same feelings during his training in the army, and he didn’t enjoy the harassment any more now than he had then, but he understood its purpose. They were testing his mettle, and he responded by pushing himself hard, harder than he had ever pushed himself in his life.

During every period of physical training he was certain he would fail, and he could not afford to fail in front of these men. He called on Jake. >Help me, buddy. I’m dying here,< he cried as his arms shook from the strain of push-ups.

>Help you? Who do you think has been holding you up for the last few minutes? Not you, that’s for sure.<

>Well, help more!<

<I’m dying, too. This is ridiculous. I thought we were in charge.<

<Not at the moment. Maybe never with these guys.< Mike closed his eyes and pressed on, not willing to fail in front of these incredible soldiers. He might be in charge, but he would never lead them in battle. That he knew for certain.

Josh explained it to him one night as they met for a planning session in his stateroom. “They’re going to get you physically fit, even if it kills you, though they’re sharp enough to not push too far. What you probably don’t know is that you can never get as physically fit as these men just by exercising. These men are hard. They’ve spent years being pushed to the limits of human endurance, and they thrive on it. They know they have no limitations, something you don’t know. It’s not as important for you, and we won’t have enough time to bring you to that level physically, but you’ll be pushed and pushed, and they’ll be watching you. No matter how hard it gets, no matter how much they cajole and laugh, the only real goal they have is to see that you don’t give up.”

Josh smiled grimly. “You can trust them, Mike. Each and every one of them is a teacher. They know their business and have taught many, many others exactly what they’re teaching you.” He leaned forward to emphasize his next words, spoken softly. “They won’t kill you, but don’t tell them I told you so. They don’t want you to know.”

Mike rolled his eyes. So did Jake, figuratively. Would it never end? “And I had thought I’d be bored out of my wits on this trip as I taught them to say ‘See Jane run.’”

“There’s a lot of boredom in the military, but not under these conditions. They’ll learn how to say ‘See Jane run,’ and they’ll learn it well. And the training activities help them to keep perspective. Most everything here is new to them. It’s good for them to spend part of each day doing normal routines with which they’re familiar. We practice these simple things over and over, always focusing on perfecting the basics. Survival rests on mastery of the basics, from physical fitness to shooting accuracy.

“By the way, your favorite taskmaster, Sergeant Jacobs, noticed you’re using your left arm a lot even though you’re right handed. He’s a medic, did you know?”

“No, I didn’t,” Mike answered.

>Some medic!< Jake exclaimed. >He’s trying to kill us.<

“He’s as good as they come. He’s also a sniper and a demolitions expert. If he’s concerned, I’m concerned. Is there something going on with that arm we should know about? We don’t want to cause any permanent damage.”

Mike grimaced as he lifted his right arm and moved it in an arc. It didn’t hurt, not more than the rest of his body, but it was still weak, and he’d been unconsciously favoring it. “Just an old wound. The arm is brand new. I guess I’d better get serious on strengthening it.”

Josh stared at him. “I think you’d better explain,” he demanded.

“Yeah, they had to grow me a new one, shoulder and all. Took months and months. I guess it would be fair to tell your men that we won’t just throw them to the wolves if they get wounded. If they can just stay alive until we get them to a treatment facility, they have a pretty good chance of making it.”

Josh eyed him oddly. “If what you say is true, you might just make a believer out of Sergeant Jacobs. Not that he’ll let up on you.”

>Neither will I,< Jake said, disgusted with the whole concept. >It’s not what I signed on for, but I won’t let you give up.<

>Thanks, Partner. We’re out of our league here. It’s going to take both of us just to survive. Maybe you should fission another Rider. You might need some help.<

>Sure, Mike. That’s all I need. You know how hard it was on me with Celine. We don’t get along very well living in the same body. You and I will make it on our own or we will die trying.<

After morning PT the next day, during which Sergeant Jacobs singled Mike out for an excruciatingly painful round of upper body exercise, Josh called everyone together for a meeting. To Mike’s surprise, Josh called him to the front of the group.

“Today we’re adding a new twist to our training regime,” Josh began. “You all know our mission is to protect the Queen. Mike is going to brief us on his personal experiences of doing just exactly that. Our purpose is not only to learn how to protect the Queen but to know our enemy. As always, there’s nothing more fundamental to our survival than knowing our opponent. If appropriate, we’ll dissect his stories in an effort to improve on the outcome. We might even stage a few examples. You’re on, Sire.”

Mike, still aching and sweaty from the workout, began talking, an activity he would continue for an hour each day for the rest of the trip. He began by breaking his personal experiences down to small parts, telling a different part of the story each day until the story was done. After some sessions, the men broke into teams to discuss better tactics, or in some cases to reenact the story so that weaknesses could be discovered and corrected.

He began with his first sighting of the meteors high up in the sky above Nevada that were, in reality, star ships. The men got their introduction to lasers, blasters, the Chessori, Otis and the Great Cats, stun guns, and the tactics worked out by Mike and Otis to overcome the Chessori. Because of Josh’s insistence that there be no secrets withheld from his men, they also learned for the first time of the Queen’s Touch and of Mike’s Rider, Jake.

He led them through his introduction to George, the Artificial Intelligence that ran the ship. He saw looks of awe on their faces as he described the net, then Ellie’s risky introduction to the net, their attempted escape from Earth only to find the Chessori waiting for them, Reba’s volunteering to join the undermanned crew of Resolve, and the plan executed so well by Admiral Trexler to ensure their final escape into space.

He told of their near disastrous encounter with the Rebel squadron, the tractor beam, and his killing of George when he forced George to circumvent his most basic programming to escape. Then came the months in space as he strove to navigate Resolve across the galaxy without George’s help in an attempt to reach Gamma VI. He described Reba’s plan to surprise the lone Chessori stalking Resolve, the plan’s failure, and their discovery of the emergency stop program that finally led to their freedom from pursuit.

Then came the battle at Gamma VI against the heavy squadron of Rebels and Chessori, the call to arms by the Queen, and the resultant internal mutiny against the Rebel crewmembers of the squadron. He emphasized the leadership of the Great Cats aboard the cruiser as they took the bridge, Val’s appearance on the scene, and the ultimate decision by Val to take Resolve aboard his cruiser.

He gave them something they could sink their teeth into when he told of the fight aboard Resolve as she rested in the belly of the Beta IV. That kind of fighting was something they might one day encounter themselves. He ended that part of the story with his frightening jump onto the scout and his fatal wounding, Jake’s part in saving his life, and the wondrous healing abilities of the Empire.

So that they would fully understand the world to which they would eventually come, Parsons’ World, Mike gave them the background on the planet, its inhabitants, and the role Parsons’ World now played in support of the Queen.

Many hours were spent reviewing the rescue of Chandrajuski, knowing something like this, too, might befall this group.

Jessie told her part in Chandrajuski’s rescue. When called before the group, she began by ordering everyone to place translator devices on their ears. She would brook no misunderstandings of her words.

“We were not concerned in the least about Rebel soldiers, possibly large numbers of them. They were Sir Mike’s problem. Our only targets were three gleasons.”

She paused as she saw the looks of surprise on the faces of these incredible soldiers. “You’re thinking, ‘only three gleasons against six Great Cats?’ I say that was three gleasons too many. Let me describe these hideous creatures. They are humanoid, they stand some seven feet tall, their skin changes color to blend in with their surroundings so they are nearly invisible, and they mind link between themselves. What one knew, the others would know instantly.

“Do you think that’s bad enough?” she asked as her eyes moved over the silent soldiers. “Well, it doesn’t end there. The creatures see into the infrared spectrum, making them effective adversaries even at night. They have four powerful arms, each with a hand, and each finger of each hand is tipped with a vicious claw. They have two circulatory systems, two nervous systems, and a brain that is divided in two. If one-half of the brain is damaged, the other keeps the body functioning. Its abilities are reduced, but this creature has little intellect anyway. All it wants to do is kill and eat.”

She waited to let her words sink in. She saw a lot of calculating minds as they digested her words. Yes, they understood it would be very difficult to kill these creatures.

“There’s always some weakness,” Josh stated from the side of the room where he leaned against a bulkhead.

“True,” Jessie replied. “Gleasons are not smart. They may be cunning on an individual basis, but they are not smart. I have never heard of them acting in a coordinated fashion. Each appears to act on its own, and that is their major weakness. For the purposes of our mission, that was not a weakness we could capitalize on. Additionally, if seriously wounded, gleasons lose their ability to blend in with their surroundings. Their bodies revert to their natural coloring, a dark green. And while their eyesight is superior, their hearing is average to poor. And they stink. Those are the only weaknesses of which I am aware.”

She watched as eyes continued to calculate. Clearly, these men appreciated the difficulty of defeating such terrible foes. “How would you take them out?” she asked the group.

“From afar,” one called out. Heads nodded and a few grim smiles appeared.

“From afar, indeed,” she replied. “But to do that, we had to find them . . .”

Mike was ready to pick up the story when Jesse reached the part about the last gleason entering Chandrajuski’s home, but Jake stopped him.

>Look at them, Mike. They’re hanging onto every word. She’s a Great Cat, she’s a Protector, and she’s the one they have to learn to fight beside. She’s their future, not you and me. Let her finish her part of the story. Besides, it’s going to get a little personal, don’t you think?<

Mike looked over the men, and Jake was right. Even Josh was spellbound. It didn’t hurt that Jessie was a great story teller. Even Mike was caught up in her tale, and he had been there.

“When Otis and I raced into Chandrajuski’s home, both of us severely wounded, Sir Mike and Lady Reba were the only ones standing. The scree had taken everyone else out. They killed the Chessori, then disarmed everyone present. Sir Mike was just pulling the Queen to her feet when we arrived. The gleason came in another entrance, stood up, and threw a poisoned knife at the Queen. Otis spotted the gleason, fired at it, then leaped into the path of the knife. I think he was trying to catch the knife, but he failed. The knife went into his own body.”

She paused to let them digest her words. Otis had made the supreme sacrifice for his Queen, and he had done it without hesitation. That was the way of Protectors. She never hinted that such a choice was optional, it was just the way of Protectors.

“Though Otis had wounded the gleason, it rose again. Another knife flew toward the Queen. I tried to intercept it, but I failed. The knife entered the Queen’s heart and killed her.”

Confused looks greeted these words. Josh spoke for his men. “The Queen died?”

“Yes. She died. Sir Mike killed the gleason, then he did something unheard of, something no one from the Empire would even have considered. He asked his Rider, Jake, to go to the Queen. He placed his hands around her neck, and Jake went into her body. When the knife was removed, Jake held her heart together, started it working again, and over time he healed it.

“But that was just the beginning of Jake’s battle. The knife was poisoned, and the poison worked on him, as well as the Queen. His next hours were agony as he held her together.

“Lady Reba followed Sir Mike’s example and sent her Rider to Otis. It, too, spent many agonizing hours trying to keep Otis alive until an antidote could be prepared. We escaped aboard a ship and waited anxiously for the ship’s medic to construct the antidote. It was not a simple process, and I won’t bore you with the details. I will just tell you that she created two possible antidotes, but there was insufficient time to determine which was the correct one. Sir Mike figured it out.”

Confused looks passed between the men. They knew Mike wasn’t a doctor.

>I think it’s your turn, Mike.<

>No. I hadn’t planned for this to come out, but I see where she’s going with this. She’s teaching them what it means to be a Protector. Let her finish.<

“You’ve chosen to be Protectors,” Jessie said softly to the soldiers gathered before her. “What would you do in such a situation?” Her eyes delved into the soldiers as she padded back and forth before them. “There are two antidotes. One might work, but the wrong one will kill. What would you do?” she asked softly.

It wasn’t long before Mike became the center of attention again. Awed looks turned his way as the soldiers muttered among themselves. Even Josh looked stunned.

“The answer was simple, was it not?” Jessie continued. “I was there, and I watched as he placed his hands on the Queen and called to Jake. What exactly did you say to him?” she asked, turning to Mike.

“I asked him to put the poison in my body, and I demanded that it be a significant sample,” he answered.

“There was no other option if the Queen was to survive,” Jessie continued. “I’m surprised I didn’t think of it myself. Mike didn’t ask anyone’s permission, he just did it. We waited for the poison to take effect, it didn’t take very long, then one of the antidotes was administered to him. As you can see, our medic chose well. The Queen and Otis both received the antidote, and after many weeks, they recovered.”

She turned to Mike. “I believe my part of the story is done, Sire,” she stated.

“I think all the story-telling is done for today,” he said. “Thank you, Jessie.”

“No. Thank you, Sire. The Empire is forever in your debt.”

The men rose as one to stare at him. There was no clapping, no cheering, they just stood there looking at him, honoring him.

Mike looked at them in return, then said, “You have volunteered to be Protectors. I will accept no less from any of you, nor do I think any of you will accept less from yourselves. Our job is to protect the Queen, period. Some of us will fall, but know this: if the Last of the Chosen falls, Earth will not be far behind. We fight for the Empire, but we fight for Earth, as well. And we’re going to win.”

Josh released the men with a stern command. “Think upon these words. You’re the best of the best, but any of you who are not up to the task, see me in my quarters. Dismissed.”

No one came to see Josh in his quarters. He would have been surprised if they had. During the following days, Mike finished his tale with a description of his trip to Aldebaran I followed by the trip to Earth. The men now knew all the players, they knew the settings, and they knew all the risks of which Mike was aware. He let them understand that there were lots of holes in his knowledge, that they would definitely encounter things he had never heard about or even conceived of, but they knew that their mission had only one purpose: to protect the Queen so she could do her job.

Their physical abuse of Mike did not change during this time, but their attitudes did. They now knew that Mike had passed his tests, tests that were different than their own, but tests nevertheless. And he had met their standard of going beyond human expectations and limitations to come out on top. The changes in their demeanor were sometimes subtle, almost as if instead of pushing him, they were pulling him to achieve more. And though they frequently called him Mike, they just as frequently referred to him as Sire.

Josh credited him with becoming their quarterback. Mike and Jessie had not only given them knowledge, they had given direction, something the men could sink their teeth into. And with a more complete understanding of the big picture, they understood that their success would mean success for Earth, as well.

>Didn’t Josh demand that you hold nothing back?< Jake asked him a few days later.

>He did, and I agreed that there would be no secrets withheld from these men.<

>Don’t you think you left out one teensy, weensy piece of information?<

>Jake, I have to work with these guys. I need to be one of them.<

>You’ll never be one of them. You’re a Protector, but not the way they are.<

>Maybe not, but I’m going to learn as much as I can from them. I can’t do that if I’m treated with kid gloves.<

>Nor can you lie to them. What will happen to all that trust when they find out you’re King? They’re going to be around Ellie a lot. Don’t you think they’ll find out?<

Mike blew out a long breath. >They will, but not until our training is over. I’ll tell them then.<

>Good idea. They can learn it from Otis or Jessie. That’s probably better.<

>Look, I just want to be treated as one of them. As nervous as I am about the training on Brodor, I don’t want to be treated as someone special.<

>The Great Cats will be in charge, and they’re accustomed to training royalty. They won’t let up on you regardless of your position. After all, it’s your life they’re training you to save. And you can never forget that Ellie’s rule is based on truth. Can you base your relationship with these men on anything less?<

>Of course not. It’s just the timing, Jake. It can wait.<

>No it can’t, and it doesn’t have to. You’re King, Mike. The best kings lead their men into battle. What better example of Empire rule can you set? As a leader of the Empire, you lead the battle against the Chessori.<

So he had Josh call his men to the training room once again.

“Jake has reminded me that there can be no secrets withheld from you,” he began. “Did you get the feeling from my tale that there was something special between myself and Ellie? Well, there is. I proposed to her, and she accepted. We’re married now, so that means you’re protecting my wife, not just the Queen. I hesitate to tell you this, but it must be said. As her husband, I’m now King.”

Josh straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “You’re King? King of what?”

“King of a sizeable chunk of the galaxy, Josh. King of the Empire. And in the Empire, that doesn’t mean consort. I rule by her side. Sorry guys, but that’s the way it is. Know that in the Empire, knights and kings don’t just sit around being royalty. We’re on the front lines, right there with you.

“Know this as well: I may be the Queen’s final layer of defense, and the day may come that I’m your only back-up.” He gave them a while to let that sink in, but he could tell there was some confusion. Galaxies were too big and their role in it was not clear, so he brought their focus down a little.

“Remember the tales of King Arthur and his knights of the round table?” he asked. “In those days, kings were the best riders and the strongest swordsmen. The knights were his generals, and they were the best and strongest of his men. Gentlemen, I’m King, and you are, each and every one of you, my generals. We go into battle together, and it will be a hard fight. Teach me well.”

Before reaching Brodor, it was not unusual at all for teams to be battling it out in cargo areas and corridors. They kept clear of the bridge, but the rest of the ship was fair game as they constantly practiced the basics they’d lived with for years. And Mike was part of it. He learned the proper way to hold his weapon at the ready, how to snap it into position for firing, he learned team tactics for moving through a corridor, and he learned how to clear a room, then he learned how to clear a series of rooms. He did not lead, but he learned the mechanics of the ballet these men danced as they leapfrogged through corridors, always providing covering fire and always moving at high speed. Josh grumbled when Mike erred, which he did often, but the team pressed on in spite of his errors, and he got better.

As on Resolve and Beta IV,  the one thing he never got to practice was being bored.

Each man fully understood that regardless of what they learned during this voyage, their knowledge and skills would improve under the cats’ tutelage. On reaching Brodor, they would most likely find themselves in the same position Mike had found himself during the first PT workout, and that was okay with them.

* * * * *

Their arrival on the outskirts of Brodor’s system was everything but what they had expected. Mike was called to the bridge. He arrived on the run, hot and sweaty from hand-to-hand training. Josh, Sergeant Jacobs, and Major Washburn, Josh’s executive officer and one of the largest men Mike had ever met, were right behind him. Jessie, as always, had remained at his side. The bridge quickly became a very crowded place. Captain Voorhees was in the process of setting up a tightbeam transmission with the surface.

Voorhees gave a quick briefing. Ahead of them by about two weeks of normal in-system travel speeds was a group of seven warships, a standard Empire light squadron. When hailed, they had not responded. He had no idea who they were or where they had come from.

Otis appeared on the tightbeam and grinned his feral grin when he saw Mike. “Sire, auspicious timing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What’s up, Otis?”

“The Rebels are what’s up. They’re about a week out. Our ground defenses are ready, but they are probably not sufficient to deter the ships. We might get one or two before they take out the weapons, but that’s about it. My guess is they’re here looking for the Queen, though they might be here simply to wipe out as many of us as they can. Or both.”

“How secure is this transmission?”

“Not very. They’re between you and Brodor. That places them in the reception window. It’s probably safe to assume they have the same equipment, though it will take them a while to latch onto our code, and then only if they’re good.”

“Why so few ships, Otis?”

“It’s more than they need for a blockade. Brodor has relied on Empire protection for many, many years, protection that was suddenly withdrawn when the Rebels took over. Of course, if they land, they don’t stand a chance.”

“We’re pretty limited here, Otis. Let me think for a minute.” Mike thought hard, his mind discarding some options, retaining others. He would have to flesh his plan out with Josh, but he knew the direction they would take, the only direction they could take if Brodor was to survive.

“Switch to general transmission, Otis.”

Otis’ visage disappeared instantly, to be replaced with a normal video link. “Hail, Stardust,” Otis called.

“Stardust here,” Mike replied coolly.

“I think you’d better break it off, Stardust. Looks like we may have a little fight on our hands here in a week or so.”

“I’m here to recruit Guardians. Can you deal?”

“No deals now,” Otis replied. “We’ve plenty of them here, in fact we’re overloaded for a change. We’ve had a general recall with this rebellion, but this time we need them for ourselves. A lucky break if I ever saw one.”

“My purchase agreement states that I don’t get paid if I don’t bring back at least three of them. I’d offer to help, but I’m just a lightly armed trader. Maybe we’ll stick around to see how things go.”

“Your nickel, Stardust. Brodor out,” Otis replied, signing off.

Stardust continued inbound while Mike held a conference right there on the bridge. As he spoke, he noticed that Sergeant Jacobs in particular, the man who had led the unmerciful hounding Mike received during daily physical training, seemed different for some reason. When Mike looked into his eyes, he instantly saw the reason why: training was over. They were operational now and all part of the same team. Mike explained the situation as he saw it, then turned to Voorhees.

Voorhees wasted no time. “We’re a fast ship. We can micro jump into them without warning. They’ll never know what hit them.”

“How’s your armament?”

“You know the answer to that, Sire,” Voorhees answered. “Serge has outfitted us very well.”

“Yes, but a squadron?”

“No, Sire, it’s not a squadron. It’s a standard light squadron. There’s no frigate, thankfully, and only half the fighters of a full squadron. I don’t want to sound overconfident, but we’re good. The odds are very much in our favor against the fighters. It would be a sure thing if we took them on one at time, but we can handle several without too much risk, and we can micro jump out when the going gets too tough, then come back at them, maybe even singling them out. It will take a while, but we can do it.

“The cruiser worries me, though. We’ll be like flees on a dog against it. We’ll worry it and we’ll bother it, but we won’t be able to take it out. We can, however, micro jump away when the going gets too tough, then come back to bother it again if we so choose. And I have some confidence that we can limit the number of shuttles reaching the ground. We can make it hard for them.”

“How likely is it that these Rebels can take out all, or most, of the cats without ground fighting?”

Jessie answered. “Not likely at all. Compared to most worlds, Brodor is primitive. Otis is prepared, Sire. I’m certain everyone is going native. They’ll be spread out, some holed up in small defensive positions and the rest just roaming free. The cities can be reduced to rubble without any loss of life at all. It will have to be a ground fight. You’ll understand better after you’ve been on the planet.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Mike replied. “No one in their right mind would attack Brodor on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance. Those are Rebel ships, and they’re carrying Chessori to reduce the cats’ effectiveness.”

Voorhees paled. Jessie’s expression did not change, but she made a simple comment. “They might be carrying gleasons, Sire.”

Mike thought about that, but it didn’t add up. “Your people stood against the gleasons two thousand years ago. Do you think it makes sense to send only one group, knowing the others failed all those years ago?”

“No, Sire, I do not. I state it only as a possibility. It would take many more gleasons than one squadron could carry. In fact, there would be massive numbers of troop transports if gleasons were to be landed. I withdraw my comment.”

“Could they have Chessori and gleasons?” Mike wondered aloud.

“Not likely, Sire,” Jessie answered. “The gleasons would suffer from the scree just as much as my people, and I do not see the gleasons fighting beside anyone, least of all a Chessori who is causing them pain.”

“So we rule gleasons out. Not that it matters: this will be a space fight, not a ground fight. If the Chessori are involved, the Rebels in front of us are not concerned with us in the slightest,” Mike summarized. “I’m a little surprised they haven’t come after us, though. They know we’ll see whatever they do. Does it make sense they’d let us get away to tell the rest of the galaxy?”

Jake answered. >I could argue that one either way. You know there will be survivors to tell the story, there are always survivors. But maybe they’d prefer we got away to tell the story. Politically, their cause would be strengthened by taking out the Empire’s Protectors. The Great Cats have made no secret of whose side they’re on. It’s probably a good move politically. And Mike, it’s just a small attack group. They can’t have the resources to defeat the Great Cats. They’re here to isolate the planet, to keep the Great Cats from helping Ellie.<

Mike informed the group of Jake’s judgment. To Voorhees, he said, “Captain, I’d like you to keep a close lookout for other ships that might be here to reinforce them. Agreed?”

“Aye, Sire.”

“You know that all of your passengers are immune to the Chessori’s scree and that your crewmembers, including yourself, are not?”

“I do.”

“Okay, men,” he said slapping his hands together and rubbing them together briskly, “we’re going to attack. Captain, you and I will develop the attack plan. Josh, your men will man the weapons. You have a week to learn. Reba did it in an hour. Think you can manage?”

Josh grinned in reply. “How many weapons stations, Captain?” he asked.

“Twelve stations, each with dual weapons,” Voorhees answered.

“Twelve!” Mike exclaimed. “We only had two aboard Resolve, and we managed quite well.”

“Surely not against six fighters and a cruiser,” Voorhees prompted.

“Well . . . no. What do we do about the cruiser? Can we even take it on? Does it have a tractor beam?”

“The cruiser will not consider us a problem, just a nuisance. Have you ever seen one of these ships up close?”

“I spent some time aboard one. I’ve never fought one.”

“They’re impregnable. It’s why they were built. No one goes up against a cruiser, Sire. They’re close to half a mile long, and they carry ships like this in their belly.”

“You mean there might be more ships showing up to fight?” Mike asked, stealing a quick glance at the screens.

“No, those fighters were probably carried here by the cruiser. I doubt if there are more, though I can’t be certain.”

“And the tractor beam?”

“It most likely carries a tractor beam, though I would not expect it to be used during a battle, only afterwards. The beams don’t serve any purpose other than to move things around or to bring them aboard, and they’re a weak point during battle. Once the shooting starts, we’re the enemy; they won’t want to bring us aboard, they’ll want to destroy us.”

“How is the tractor beam a weakness?” Josh asked, immediately latching on to the one positive thing he’d heard, even though he knew next to nothing about tractor beams.

“A direct hit on a charged tractor beam capacitor would destroy the ship, Colonel. The capacitors are heavily shielded, but no captain would take a chance. You just don’t go into battle with a charged tractor beam. Period.”

Mike asked, “What if it’s already charged up? Or partially charged?”

“Highly unlikely, Sire.”

“Hmm,” Mike wondered aloud. “When we left Earth, a cruiser attempted to take Resolve aboard before the fighting even started.”

“I would say those were special circumstances, Sire,” Voorhees responded. “Resolve had someone aboard they really wanted, and I doubt if your small weapons would have been of serious concern.”

“But the tractor beam could be a weakness,” Josh replied, pursuing his train of thought relentlessly. “Can we make them power it up? Can we make them want to capture us instead of destroy us?”

“What do we have that they could possibly want?” Voorhees asked. He considered his own words and blinked several times, then answered his own question. “The technology of the micro jump.”

Mike agreed. “They’re going to see us use it. It’ll probably scare the heck out of them, but once they get their act together, they’ll want it.”

“They will,” Voorhees replied thoughtfully, giving the idea serious consideration, then brightening with eagerness. “It might work. The tractor beam is located in the cruiser’s hangar deck. It has to be there to bring a ship aboard. It will be heavily shielded, though the hangar entrance itself is not heavily armored. It can’t be and move swiftly to allow the passage of ships. I’d like to model this before we go any further. If we can get through the shields, and that’s a big ‘if,’ there will be nothing stopping us from reaching the capacitor itself.”

“Any other surprises we should be ready for?”

Voorhees thought for a time. “Nothing comes to mind. I’ll discuss it with my crew to see if they have any suggestions.” He raised his eyebrows, peering hard at Mike. “Keep in mind that I don’t know anything about Chessori capabilities, Sire. If they use this mind weapon I’ve heard about, a lot will depend on how many there are and how completely they can man the ship.”

Mike turned to Josh and his men. “They’re very good. And I mean very good. In at least one case, they were so quick they escaped a perfect ambush by taking the only course of action they could. The decision was made in a split second, it was an unusual solution, and it worked. So be on your toes.  Do not underestimate them. And one more thing,” he added to Voorhees. “No one gets away. The Rebels will not learn about our fast ships from me. We will show no mercy. Any problems with that?”

Grim expressions met his last statement. His meaning was clear; they would have to destroy the cruiser, not just wound it.

Training began in earnest. They had one week. During that time Mike had to familiarize himself with captaining the trader, two gunners had to be trained for each gun, just in case, and others had to be trained to repair battle damage. Fortunately, every special operations soldier was a specialist in at least one area, and frequently in two or three areas. Everyone was a weapons expert, and as for the repair side of things, there were plenty of demolitions experts in the group. Trained primarily to blow things up, they were engineers and readily took to the repair side of things, as well.

Gunners, engineers, several officers, and as many others as time permitted had to enter and learn to function within the net. Kirsten, Stardust’s equivalent of George, stayed busy day and night familiarizing the newcomers with the net. Mike and his backup needed the full treatment. The rest only needed to know enough to perform their jobs. The gunners had to see the big picture and coordinate their activities, but they did not have to know how to fly or manage the ship. The engineers only had to learn to follow instructions. Reba had caught on quickly, and so did Josh’s men, but Mike insisted they have a bigger piece of the picture than Reba had when he left Earth. Her usefulness had been severely limited by her rushed training, and he did not want a repeat of that.

Mike’s entrance to the net was fairly simple since he’d been there before on other ships. He found it very different working with Kirsten, whose voice was so sexy and earthy that he had trouble concentrating at first. He wondered at Voorhees’ choice of AI, but he got over it and plunged right in with Voorhees to work out a plan of attack.

He expected Josh to manage the gunners, but to his surprise, both Josh and Sergeant Jacobs declined. Jacobs desperately wanted to join the weapons group, but he admitted, grudgingly, that his primary specialty was that of medic. Though he was good with every form of weapon, there were enough others who were better. Mike thought about inviting him in anyway, he had grown to like and respect the older man, but he decided he could not intervene in Josh’s command. Besides, there might well be a need for medics before this was all over.

Josh chose the gunners from among his weapons specialists, all senior sergeants, then added Major Washburn and a captain to coordinate their efforts on the net. Everyone had a backup, and backups moved in and out of the primary rotation on command of the coordinators so that everyone was comfortable working together regardless of who was in the net.

Josh chose to be Mike’s backup, surprising Mike. “Where will I get a better command view?” he asked Mike as they discussed it.

“Have you ever flown anything before?” Mike asked.

“Only helicopters. Does it matter?”

Knowing that Kirsten would not likely die as George had, Mike admitted that Josh was right. He could command anyone on the ship from the net, whether the orders were given over the net or over a speaker. It was an excellent solution for both of them.

Josh spent endless hours in the net and more endless hours out of the net reviewing the plans and progress of the remainder of his men. Everyone had a job. Those not in the net even practiced belaying boarders, setting up teams of men who could fall back to planned positions as necessary if a boarding occurred, an extremely remote possibility.

Josh and the others on the net got to meet Jake for the first time. Until now, Jake had been just a part of Mike’s tale. Hereafter, he was a real person to them.

Voorhees and his men stayed busy everywhere. His gunners stayed in the net with Josh’s gunners while they trained, his engineer taught Josh’s men how to make simple repairs to the most critical parts of the ship, and his medic spent several days teaching Josh’s medics how to work his equipment. Others demonstrated hand weapons new to Josh’s people. The weapons from Earth fired projectiles. They were good weapons, but blasters were better, and they had a virtually inexhaustible energy supply. There would be no running out of bullets for these men. Actual live fires of the blasters could not take place within the ship, but plenty of dry firing took place.

Mike already knew that Captain Voorhees was competent, Serge held his captains to the very highest standards, but he was surprised at how easily Voorhees agreed to relinquish control of his ship when the fighting started.

“Not a problem, Mike. I was chosen for this command because I know how to put our mission ahead of everything else. Some of my missions have required pretty innovative thinking. This one might top the list, but only because I’ll be out of the picture, probably jerking around on the floor in agony. But know this: your solution fits. My men and I will be out of the net as soon as the last micro jump is executed. We’re smart enough to know that we could take the whole net down with us if there really are Chessori out there.”

He pursed his lips in a frown as he rubbed his forehead. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like this, not one bit, but I’m thankful you guys are here. I would not have chosen to engage the Chessori without you. And, Sire . . . you have a reputation. My ship is in good hands.”

“Maybe we’ll luck out and there won’t be any Chessori,” Mike replied, “because we may end up needing your help in a big way. It seems like every time I’ve been forced to fight, they’ve thrown me a curve ball, something I had no idea was even possible.”

“And it will probably happen here, as well. One of these days you’re going to have to take the time to get trained as a ship’s captain. It only takes ten or fifteen years.”

Mike grew more and more nervous as the time for battle approached. Josh kidded him about it, but privately he admitted that everyone always went through the same thing, and it was a good thing, because it focused the mind on the mission. Everything else became extraneous, of no importance.

Mike had to agree with Josh: his sole focus had become the battle group in front of him, nothing else. His many other concerns about the Empire and Earth had been pushed aside to allow total concentration on the upcoming engagement.

He wondered if the crews in the ships ahead of him, the ships he was about to engage, were going through the same thing, or were they expecting a relatively easy conquest, at least the space-born part of it? They had no inkling of Serge Parsons micro jump, and they had no idea this ship was anything but what it appeared to be, a simple freighter two weeks behind them. Their focus would be on Brodor. He was confident of that much at least. The element of surprise was definitely in his favor.

The time grew near. Everyone needed in the net was in the net, and everyone knew their part in the plan.

Voorhees turned off his beacon and began the hours-long process of micro jumping toward the planet. As they neared the squadron, Kirsten displayed a complex pattern of orbits as the smaller ships supporting the cruiser broke away to encircle the planet. The cruiser moved closer to Brodor than they had expected, probably to use her heavier weapons to more effect, but the lower orbit did not change their strategy.

Voorhees’ navigation was perfect. After executing the last jump, Stardust was behind and above the cruiser. Voorhees and his crew cut themselves out of the net, leaving the Earthmen on their own.

No defensive fire came from the cruiser as Mike maneuvered to place his ship exactly where his gunners’ fire would be most effective. He reached just the right spot, and they started pecking away at several gun turrets on the cruiser, all according to plan. To their surprise, Kirsten’s sensors indicated at least one shield going down, then another began failing. Serge’s weapons were considerably stronger than Mike had expected. His men concentrated their fire on those two locations, taking out one of the cruisers large guns. That did it for the Chessori aboard the cruiser. They lost patience. The cicada sound that accompanied use of the scree started up in earnest. Mike sensed no reaction from his men in the net, though he knew the same could not be said for Voorhees and his men. They would be suffering. So, too, would be any non-Chessori aboard the cruiser.

So, too, was he. Jake was gone, having withdrawn to his left leg, and the leg was on fire. Mike ordered his ship to cease fire and allowed Stardust to drift on her current trajectory, leading the Chessori to believe their scree had done its work. It also gave him time to adjust to the pain in his leg. He wondered how long it would take for the Chessori to take command of the net aboard the cruiser.

It did not take long. Within minutes, the cruiser began maneuvering to shield its damaged areas from Stardust. As he had hoped, Kirsten’s sensors soon showed the tractor beam powering up, and it powered up at a speed he had not known was possible. He guessed he had maybe half an hour before it became operational. His men held their fire, allowing the cruiser to maneuver at will, turning until its tractor beam was pointed directly at Stardust.

The waiting was terrible. Josh spoke softly to him on the net, encouraging him to wait. Mike adjusted Stardust’s roll and pitch in minute increments as the waiting continued, bringing his heaviest guns to bear on the area of the tractor beam. They had determined earlier that a 50% power level for the beam would be sufficient to their needs, but they would wait for 75% just to be sure. If their plan failed, they would micro jump away before the beam reached 100%. They all watched as Kirsten’s sensors indicated a higher power level second by second.

Mike felt a strong sense of déjà vu, as if he was back near Earth waiting for the tractor beam to snatch him up. But this time he could do something about it.

Finally the number reached 75%. Mike ordered his gunners to open fire, knowing the heavily shielded area around the tractor beam would be very hard, if not impossible, to penetrate. The Chessori were caught completely by surprise, delaying return fire for a couple of minutes. When the cruiser did return fire, the heavy weapons were devastating. Mike instantly moved the ship, but he could not go far without his gunners losing sight of their target. One shield went down, and Mike rolled the ship to place that shield away from the cruiser. New gunners picked up the target and continued firing repeatedly with Parsons World’s improved weapons into the shields protecting the tractor beam. The Chessori finally realized what was going on and attempted to maneuver away from his guns while shutting down the beam, but they were too late. One shield went dark, followed quickly by another. Stardust, too, was taking many hits, and gunners struggled mightily to hold to the target as Mike maneuvered hard. Soon a third shield gave way on the cruiser, followed quickly by a fourth. Mike lost another shield and rolled further, four gunners losing the target but four new ones picking up the slack.

Stardust suddenly shook, hard. They were holed, a hull breach in cargo hold four. Kirsten slammed appropriate bulkhead doors closed in the corridors leading from the cargo area before anyone realized what had happened. It was truly wonderful having her assistance. Mike suspected there were soldiers in there, but he didn’t have time to worry about them. They were Josh’s problem. Josh quickly organized a rescue party, but Mike cut that part out of his awareness.

He rolled the ship again, and new gunners took up the incessant attack against the tractor beam. Its capacitor beam was shutting down as quickly as it could, now at 35% and falling fast. Then his gunners got all the way through. Mike could swear he heard a ‘boom’ through Kirsten’s sensors as the tractor beam capacitor overloaded, though he knew that hearing sound in space was impossible. Looking through Kirsten’s sensors, however, he saw the flare-up as a huge hole was rent in the belly of the ship.

The cruiser went dead in space. It had not blown up entirely, as they had hoped, but Kirsten’s sensors indicated it could not maneuver. The cicada sound continued for another minute or so, then ceased. He surmised that the remaining Chessori needed assistance from the rest of the crew for damage control. His men kept a tremendous barrage of fire pouring into the cruiser, concentrating on its gun ports. Shields began failing one after another, then flares jetted into space as weapons platforms disintegrated beneath those shields. Sporadic return fire continued after the scree ceased, but it was not terribly effective. Mike constantly jiggered his position relative to the cruiser as he rolled around its length, helping his gunners to take out firing positions one after another.

Captain Voorhees struggled back into the net, still suffering from the effects of the scree but determined to function in spite of it. He studied Kirsten’s data on the cruiser, informing Mike that its power plant was down, at least for the present, but that many hot spots remained from which retaliation could be directed at Stardust.

“This lady is proving to be a tough nut to crack,” he announced. “I was certain the disintegration of the tractor beam would take out the whole ship. Nice job by the way. I’ve got to go, you’ve got company. My advice is that the crew aboard the cruiser has its hands full just trying to survive. If necessary, you can come back later and finish her off. Goodbye.”

Voorhees left the net in case the scree started up again. All six fighters had changed trajectories to intercept Stardust. As Mike watched, those trajectories were refined so that three ships would reach him at the same time. Could Stardust handle three enemy simultaneously?

They had a little time before the shooting started up again. He ordered Kirsten to run a scan on all ships systems, concentrating on shields and weapons. Repair crews were dispatched throughout the ship as necessary to replace dead or weakened parts while Mike got an update from Josh.

“We’re still trying to get into cargo hold four. We’re not real proficient with these space suits yet, and it’s a fairly complex procedure to gain entry. There were three men guarding the outer door, but we haven’t heard from them. They were positioned behind partitions and suited up for just this eventuality, but that was a pretty hard hit. I don’t know if they made it or not. Don’t worry about it, you’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Mike was gratified as warning sensors for his shields turned from amber back to green one by one. They were almost back to full weapons and shields by the time the scree came again. His men would continue their repair work while Stardust fought on.

Mike’s men got off the first shots. His weapons had greater range than those aboard the small fighters, and it made a difference. Mike reminded Major Washburn of Reba’s tactic of focusing all their firepower on one ship. He instantly took the hint, focusing three guns on the drive of the closest ship. The other two fighters came straight in together, trying to take advantage of Stardust’s concentration on the first ship, but they hadn’t planned on her remaining firepower. The first ship disappeared in a flash of light, then all weapons focused on the two remaining fighters. They tried to flee but were unsuccessful, going out in a flare of light almost simultaneously.

Mike didn’t wait. He went after the three remaining fighters. They scattered, each splitting off in different directions, knowing Stardust could not follow all of them at once and knowing they would win in a stern chase, but they did not take his micro jumping capability into consideration. Mike chose the ship farthest away and ordered Kirsten to set up a micro jump, or a series of micro jumps, to intercept it. He wasn’t familiar enough with her capabilities to make the calculations himself, but he wasn’t needed for that. She complied, and an hour later that ship ceased to exist.

It took eight more hours to track down and destroy the two remaining fighters, but in the end, they, too, succumbed. Kirsten then micro jumped back to the cruiser. Mike held station there, hesitant to finish it off, but knowing he must.

Josh approached him, still within the net, knowing how Mike felt. It was impossible to hide feelings within the net. “Permission to speak, Sire,” he said. Mike sensed an illusory hand going around his shoulder.

“I’m whipped. How about you?” he asked Josh.

“Yup, but we don’t pay attention to that, do we,” he stated. “I have a suggestion. How about we board her, take her over?”

Startled, Mike mentally sat up and paid attention. “She’s done in, Josh. She’s a wreck. Look at her! Let’s finish her off.”

“We can, but if they haven’t deleted their files yet, she might have some treasures for our intelligence people.”

“She’s just an Empire cruiser, Josh. We know everything we need to know about them.”

“You know all you need to know about Empire cruisers, but you might not know everything about this particular one. She has people aboard with knowledge we might be able to use, and she has Chessori aboard. Wouldn’t they be interesting to interrogate?”

Mike paused. “Josh, what if she has one of the interstellar communications devices aboard?” His pulse quickened. “I’d give everything to get my hands on one of those. How would we go about doing it?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Josh said with a chuckle. “First we have to get into the ship somehow, then I guess we have to secure one deck at a time, probably the hard way.” He paused for a time, considering. “Assuming we can get aboard, we can do it given sufficient time. What concerns me most is that they might blow up the ship with us in it. We’ll have a hard time protecting the Queen if we’re all dead. I’d still like to give it a try, though.”

Mike left the net after issuing orders to the gunners to open fire on the cruiser again, concentrating only on taking out the remaining guns. Josh joined him outside the net, followed shortly by Captain Voorhees.

“Captain, I think you can have the ship back again. We’ll stay right here in case the Chessori decide to try their scree on us again, but she’s yours until they do. I need your council.”

“Very well, Sire.” He issued orders to his bridge staff, who staggered back into the net to relieve Josh’s men.

Mike briefed Voorhees as soon as he finished issuing his orders. “Josh here has a wild idea to board her. I like the idea. She might have information we could use. What do you think? Is such a thing possible?”

Voorhees was shocked. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “Take over a capital ship? I don’t think it’s ever been done before. Let me give it some thought.” He turned away, then turned back to Mike. “What if they just blow themselves up when they figure out what you’re up to?”

“Can they?”

“I haven’t a clue. We’d better get the Chief up here.”

“And we need someone else. Can you set up a tight beam to Brodor for me?”

“At once, Sire. By the way, well done!”

“We might not be done yet. The hardest part might be coming up,” Mike replied with a shiver.

Otis greeted him with his toothy grin again. “Not bad for a cub, Sire. You’re learning.”

Mike explained their plan and their predicament. Otis’ gaze narrowed to that of a predator as he considered. When he spoke, he focused on Josh. “I look forward to meeting you, Colonel. Your plan is admirable. As to the risk, it is impossible to evaluate. The ship may be capable of blowing itself up, it may just blow up anyway, but you have a couple of things in your favor. One, the survivors are not only in disarray, they are focused intently on damage control. The ship is very severely damaged. I cannot say if they even know you’re out there.

“Three areas of the ship are critical to secure. First, the bridge. Any self destruct orders would have to come from there. Second, the engineering section. That would be the most likely area to initiate a self-destruct. Third, the communications area. If this interstellar communicator is aboard, that would be the most likely place to find it.”

“Otis, how the heck do we go about getting inside?”

“You don’t, but my men can. We’ve trained for this but have never actually done it. I’ll have a dozen shuttles there inside an hour, two at most. They will have the equipment and the manpower to subdue the ship. If we need more, I’ll send more.”

Josh spoke up. “My men would like to assist,” he said.

Otis used the very human gesture of rubbing his chin with his hand. “This is not a training class, Colonel, but your request is appropriate. There are probably Chessori still alive, and if their goal was to invade the planet, there might be a lot of them.” He thought for a time. “Sire, what is your decision. Do we proceed?”

Mike considered his commitment to Ellie and her need for protection, yet he could not pass up the opportunity to get his hands on an interstellar communicator.

“We proceed,” he replied.

“Very well, Sire. Colonel Dace, prepare your men for a briefing as soon as I arrive. I will explain the breaching process at that time. We will invite four of your men to accompany each first-in team, just in case the Chessori are waiting. The rest of your men will follow as soon as we can get them there. I’ll join you as soon as I can.” He signed off.

Mike looked at Josh. “You got your wish. Are you going, too?”

“I hope so. I like to lead from the front, but we have three fronts. I need to be wherever I can be of the most use, probably somewhere where I can communicate with all the teams, or maybe with a reserve force. I’ll discuss it with Otis.”

“You’ve got an hour or two. Better get your guys saddled up.” As Josh turned to leave, he asked one more question. “How are the guys that were in cargo hold four?”

“Alive, but pretty banged up. Internal injuries. Sergeant Jacobs doesn’t know if they’ll make it or not. The ship is well equipped, but it can only do so much. He’s earning his pay today.”

Mike went to sick bay to check on the wounded men. One had died, the other two were in a bad way and would not fight again, but Jacobs and the ship’s medic were keeping a close eye on them. Mike brought both of them up to date, and Jacobs accompanied him as he left. Mike lifted his eyebrows in a question.

“They’re under good care, Sire. I think I’ll be needed elsewhere today. I’m not going to sit this one out.”

Mike nodded soberly. There would definitely be need of medics with the teams, and these medics were fighters as well.

They went to the hangar deck to welcome Otis aboard. All of Josh’s men were there. Mike reminded them of the part Otis had played in saving the Queen, and he reminded them that Otis was a Knight of the Realm. He then piped Otis aboard, a small ceremony that Voorhees helped set up.

Thirty Great Cats accompanied Otis, all business. They padded among Josh’s men, the men studying the cats while the cats studied the men, each taking the measure of the other, each wondering if they could ever learn to work effectively together. The cats clearly had superior strength and reflexes, everyone in the room knew and accepted that, but Josh’s men had all seen their share of action and had lived through it to reach this point.

They were the best Earth had to offer. They held their heads high, unafraid of the testing to come.

Otis left them to their perusal for a time, then ordered everyone to the adjacent cargo bay that  Josh’s men had been using as a training room. He inserted a chip into the overhead presentation system as Josh’s men attached translating devices to their ears. He brought up a schematic of the cruiser and explained its general layout, then he brought the bridge area into detailed focus.

“Team A will breach here,” he said, indicating the appropriate area. “We will use a shaped charge to blow a hole in the outer surface of the ship. These ships are very hard; it will take several charges to breach. Inside the outer hull is an inner hull which contains the air inside the ship. It will be much easier to breach. We will place a hardened cylinder against the hull, secure it with a glue-like substance, then use another shaped charge to breach the inner hull. When this is accomplished, we will close the inner door of the hatch, enter the outer door and close it behind us, then pressurize and open the inner door.

“This will be a dangerous time. Only one or two will be able to enter the ship at a time. One cat and one human will go first. Since this is in the area of the bridge, you can definitely expect to encounter Chessori. Another cat and another human will enter next, followed by the remainder of Team A.

“Your shortest route to the bridge is directly below the breach in the direction of the front of the ship. Make certain you are properly oriented before entering. You can’t afford to go off in the wrong direction. Each of you will be carrying detonation cords to breach the bridge hatch which is armored and probably locked.

“Your mission is to secure the bridge, its occupants, and to lock down the computers. The computers can be voice activated, so you will have to be quick if anyone is alive on the bridge. We would like to interrogate any survivors, but you have no restrictions against killing anyone on the bridge in order to accomplish your mission.

“Team B will breach here,” he explained pointing to the engineering spaces. “You will enter through the Chief Engineer’s office in the same manner and secure it. I do not anticipate encountering Chessori in this area, but the humans will team up as already discussed just in case. We will send a follow-up team as soon as the shuttle is clear since this is, by far, the largest critical area to secure.

“Team C will breach here,” he explained pointing to the communications area. “It is absolutely critical that you secure all equipment and computers in this area. It potentially holds a great prize. You will take great care to prevent destroying the equipment.

“The rest of you will follow as soon as the shuttles can get you there. Three shuttles will be held in reserve. They will reinforce where needed. Everyone will be in protective suits until the Team Leader decides the suits are no longer necessary.”

He began to describe the few essential hand signals the teams would use in case of communications breakdowns, but Jessie spoke up. “Not necessary, Sire. I’ve taught them the basic verbal commands as well as the basic hand signals. I vouch for their understanding.”

“Excellent,” Otis exclaimed. “Are they proficient with the protective suits?”

“Reasonably proficient, including in vacuum. They have never experienced weightlessness, though.”

Mike was startled. He hadn’t even considered the fact that the ship might not have its artificial gravity functioning. There were infinite amounts of additional instruction Josh’s men needed, but there just wasn’t time to cover every eventuality. Mike was certain their mettle would be tested this day. Had he chosen wrong? Was he sending them to their deaths? He looked at Josh, who returned a grim nod. He knew his men, and he knew they would give it their very best even if it wasn’t enough.

Otis and Josh broke the men into teams, and the first three shuttles departed, followed soon after by the rest. Mike led Otis and Josh to the bridge where they would wait until needed.

Josh kept his translator device in place – it was essential that he communicate clearly with Otis. He and Mike entered the net and called up the communications channels of the boarders, of which there were four. Each team had a separate channel, and all team members had access to the command channel. Josh communicated with Otis over the bridge speakers and discovered that Kirsten could easily handle the two-way translation. They were both able to converse with no difficulty through Kirsten’s interaction while remaining in direct contact with all the team members. Josh, wishing he was aboard one of the shuttles, knew deep down that he was in the right place, a place where he could easily and effortlessly communicate with his men through the magic of the net. Otis was in overall command of this operation, a point which he emphasized and a point which Josh seconded without hesitation.

The first three charges went off simultaneously. After that, they went off as quickly as they could be placed. The hatches were soon in place and the inner hulls breached, though it took a good hour before the first team made it in. Shortly thereafter, Mike felt the scree. Voorhees and his crew almost took him and Josh out with them before he was able to get Kirsten to disconnect them. When they got their act together again, pandemonium had broken out on the cruiser. Otis, laboring under great strain from the scree, demanded a report from each Team.

Team A was in the ship. Four cats were down, the humans had gone ahead of the cats, their situation unknown. Josh, in contact with his men, passed a report to Otis that his men had reached the bridge and were placing the charges on the bridge hatch. The cats had free passage to the bridge, the way was clear. The men needed help; they didn’t know how to activate the charges. Otis passed the activation instructions through Josh, then focused on the other Teams. Josh, meanwhile, ordered his reserves to deploy to each hatch and be ready to move in.

Teams B and C completed their breaches and entered. Team B, in the engineering section, had sporadic contact with the Chessori but pressed on and quickly secured the engine room and engineering spaces, then began moving slowly forward through the ship. They soon called for reinforcements; there was too much ship to cover, and they didn’t want to spread the team too thin.

Team C, in communications, became pinned down in the corridor as soon as they entered. They needed reinforcements, human reinforcements if possible. The area was crawling with Chessori.

Otis gave Josh the go ahead. Josh, in turn, passed the word to his men aboard the reserve shuttles to move in. The shuttles were not able to dock, however. The pilots, all Great Cats, got close, but they could not operate the shuttle controls with the great finesse a docking required. The scree demanded incredible inner strength for the cats just to function at a minimal level, let alone the high levels needed for docking.

Josh’s men, knowing Team C was in dire straits and desperate for help, called on Josh to command the pilot to let all the air out of the ship and to go weightless. They swam to the exit, attempting to line up just as if they were preparing to jump out of a plane. It was a pretty ragged lineup as they exited one at a time, launching themselves at the nearby hatch through the vacuum of space. It was a disaster looking for a place to happen, but everyone made it to the lock with only a few minor injuries from hard landings. Otis passed instructions through Josh on how to work the lock mechanisms, and they eventually got the job done. Josh passed the idea on to the other teams, and they followed suit. Some thirty humans poured through each breach as fast as they could operate the locks.

Two of Josh’s men were lost on entering the bridge. Two Chessori there were taken out by the two remaining humans who stood guard over the Rebels writhing in agony on the deck. They were soon joined by the cats and the bridge was secure.

Reinforcements poured into the breach in engineering, fanning out forward and aft to search the ship for surviving Chessori, securing Rebel crewmen as they went.

Team C encountered the stiffest resistance, not because they faced the most Chessori, but because they couldn’t blow the place up to get at them. Their job was to take the communications section with minimal damage. The reinforcements added greatly to their firepower, but there was limited space to maneuver.

One of the Great Cats angrily entered a compartment adjacent to the main communications compartment, motioning six humans in before him. He struggled with a heavy gun, took aim, and burned a hole through the wall of the communications compartment, then motioned the humans forward. They managed to pick off two Chessori guarding the outer door which allowed access for the rest of the team. After that, Josh’s men used standard room clearing procedures to work their way through the remaining spaces. An hour after entering the ship, the communications section was secure.

A couple of hundred Chessori hounded Josh’s men and the cats as they fought their way through the ship. Josh issued directions to his troops when they became lost, and he sent reinforcements where necessary. The worst battle took place in the armorer’s section where the Chessori had unlimited access to weapons, both personal weapons and heavy guns. These Chessori were true fighters and highly skilled, possibly the ones assigned to root the Great Cats out of their positions on the planet.

A battle raged for hours with little progress, though with great damage to the ship. Mike eventually ordered everyone to retreat to safe locations, then ordered the gunners aboard Stardust to hole the ship in that exact location. The Chessori that didn’t perish from the blasts were evacuated into space by the escaping air. No one wasted the effort to retrieve the bodies.

The cleanup took more hours, but once the last Chessori succumbed, no Rebels proved willing to challenge the cats. It was simply a matter of time as they cleared the vast spaces of the cruiser. The ship was still in grave danger and would never sail again, but the task now became securing it against its own destruction.

Forcing the Rebels to do the work was no problem at all. They were simply told they could not abandon the ship. They would save it or perish.

The cruiser’s captain was brought to Stardust with the last batch of wounded. Josh had left the bridge to check on his wounded men. Otis and Mike stood up as the captain entered the bridge escorted by two of Josh’s men.

“Your name?” Otis inquired. The man’s expression only hardened. It was clear he would not talk easily. “It’s your choice, Captain,” Otis stated plainly. “You can talk now with us, or you can do it later with the experts. I have no interest in what you might tell us anyway.”

The man remained mute. Otis ordered Josh’s men to escort the prisoner to the designated brig area and to secure him hand and foot.

Mike added, “You searched him, right?”

“We did, but we’re not real sure what to look for,” answered the senior sergeant. “What if he has implants or something?”

Mike turned to Voorhees for guidance.

He shrugged. “Who cares if he kills himself?” He held up a hand to forestall argument. “Okay, I’ll detail a crewmember to keep a watch until the medic can check him out, but not before the medic has seen to each of our men. We’ll strip him until then. Let him play with himself if he wants to.”

Then Voorhees brightened and turned to Otis. “Should we just give him to your men?”

“Hmm,” Otis mumbled deeply in his throat. “They’re probably hungry by now. Let me think on it.”

The prisoner showed his alarm but did not speak. He was taken away.

* * * * *

The battle was over, and they had won. Mike and Otis took a break and headed for the lounge. Stepping into the central shaft, Otis chuckled.

“Remember the first time you rode one of these?” he asked grinning. Mike just rolled his eyes, remembering how he had felt about falling down the shaft.

“You’ve come a long way, Sire. I call you a cub no longer. Today was a great day for the Empire.”

Mike thought through the events of the day and shrugged. “As usual, I’m just the hands and feet of the experts, doing their bidding. Josh, Voorhees, and his Chief came up with the strategy we used against the cruiser. You put your breaching plan together with incredible swiftness. I’m impressed, Otis.”

“You led today, Mike. You led well. That included choosing what advice you would use from the experts. It was a very good day, and to top it off, you saved my world from tragedy. Brodor is in your debt. We will not forget.”

Mike nodded absently. Otis took him by the arm, turning Mike to face himself and looking him in the eyes. “Hear me well, Mike. Brodor is in your debt. Think about what I say. We have long memories and do not forget our obligations.”

Mike responded as First Knight. “Sir Otis, Brodor has pledged itself to the Queen. I will not accept anything less or more. Therein lies your duty. Do not forget it.”

“You truly are learning to lead, Sire,” Otis responded with his toothy grin. “That doesn’t change the fact that we have long memories.”

Chapter Twelve

Juster entered Struthers’ office to find him asleep on the couch. He turned around and left, gently closing the door behind him, advising Jirdn that Struthers was not to be disturbed. Jirdn understood and nodded. Struthers had not been sleeping well lately. Perhaps with a little extra sleep he might return to a semblance of his old self.

It was just as well, Juster decided. He wasn’t in the mood for another tirade, and this one would be deserved. He had sent the picket force at Brodor in to attack the planet without Struthers’ approval and had lost touch with the ships. He would take the blame, and that was okay, but what had happened? No one knew what defenses Brodor had, but surely they weren’t capable of taking out a cruiser. And not a hint of what had gone wrong.

He slumped in the chair behind his desk deep in thought. How had the cats done it?

Reba

Chapter Thirteen

Reba didn’t know it, but she and her men were destined to lead the Queen’s first major assault against the Rebels. The battle would take place at Orion III, and its outcome would heavily weight the scales of success or failure for the Queen.

Among her one thousand men from Earth, she alone knew the mission, she alone spoke the language, and she alone was responsible for ensuring her soldiers were prepped and ready to go on arrival at Orion III. In addition, she had yet to earn the trust of her men, a motley group of special operations soldiers chosen from across the globe.

Reba and the group’s commander, Colonel James Waverly, a middle-aged, barrel-chested Ranger with wide-set eyes and hair showing the first flecks of gray, had eight weeks to pull the men into a viable fighting force. They lifted from Earth two months after Mike and Trexler, all one thousand men crammed aboard a trader headed for Orion III. She had no idea if Val was still there, but she allowed herself to hope.

She and Waverly drove the men unmercifully, and the men reveled in the hard work. Reba went into the ship’s net to begin their training, using the net to communicate with everyone at the same time regardless of which compartment they were in. She lectured them on Empire politics, descriptions of the expected situations they would encounter, an explanation of the Chessori scree, and lots and lots of language lessons. The men would be issued translator devices before going into action, but they needed to learn the language of Empire as soon as they possibly could.

She worked with Colonel Waverly and his command staff to develop tactics for the missions she anticipated, then she joined Waverly and a small group of hand-picked veterans to test those tactics, making modifications when needed before disseminating the plans to the rest of the troops. Waverly and his staff then supervised long hours of squad practice, ensuring the men learned their way around the ship, knew how to open and secure doors and hatches, use the lift shafts, and all the thousand and one things new to them.

Though basic fighting skills and tactics did not change, using those skills aboard a spaceship added a new dimension to those tasks.

Waverly declared war on nationalism. He would brook no in-fighting among his men. Diverse cultures and backgrounds intrinsically fostered separatism, but Waverly fought it at every opportunity, forcing teams to work together in spite of their differences, sometimes because of their differences. His officers were always on the prowl looking for problems of this nature, and penalties were severe, not unlike those the men had suffered through in basic training. No one wanted kitchen duty, and no one wanted to spend days inventorying supplies, but teams who didn’t get along found themselves doing just those things.

The men were all specialists, trained to work in small groups to combat terrorists, rescue hostages, and deliver hard blows to enemy command structures. They knew how to get in quickly, hit hard and fast against overwhelming opposition, then get out if necessary. Their small squad skills were already honed to perfection, though they did not function particularly well as a large group. Using these men to take a beach or to hold a position would be a waste of talent. Ask them to clear a neighborhood or secure a room or a building, and these men would deliver every time.

Moving through the ship soon required great caution as squads roamed everywhere, testing and refining tactics, even learning to don protective suits and operate in compartments open to vacuum.

To do their jobs, these men would need to function on their own at some minimal level aboard various ships of the Empire. Language skills were a serious problem and a first priority. Empire crewmembers they encountered would not have translator devices. Reba’s men could understand what they heard if they were wearing the translators, but they needed to learn to speak, as well.

Reba knew, too, that some of these men would have to learn to function within the net, to take control of ships if and when the Chessori scree came into play. There was just no way she could get them all fully integrated in the time she had. Everyone got an introduction to Norman, enough to plug-in for language lessons, but only a small group, some 150, had completed what Reba considered to be a minimal checkout on the net by the time they reached Orion III. Norman, never needing a break, took them on one at a time ceaselessly, not stressing any particular training such as piloting or weapons, only getting them to the point they could enter the net and communicate with others on the net. It was far from ideal, but it was a beginning. She hoped Val would have other ideas.

He did. Reba’s ship was directed to a berth at the civilian space port where a contingent of Korban’s men met them dressed as civilians. Quarters had been arranged at a conference center, and Val took over the training schedule.

Her reunion with Val, whom she had not seen for almost eight months, took place at the end of a very, very long day that saw all one thousand men installed in quarters and fed. Reba pulled him into an embrace the moment they had privacy, trying to put eight months of need into one hug. He laughed with delight as he pushed her away, taking her face in his hands and planting a kiss on her lips.

“Hi, Lady.”

“Hi, yourself. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You were too busy to notice. How are your parents?”

“Anxious to meet you, that’s how they are. So am I. Come here. We can talk later.”

Mike

Chapter Fourteen

So Mike’s arrival at Brodor didn’t go exactly as planned. He now had a whole new set of problems to deal with. Clearly, Brodor had become a prime target of the Rebels. Chandrajuski would have to send protection. He would grumble that it would cut severely into his fleet, but he would send the ships. And they needed experts to study the remains of the cruiser. They had no idea if the Chessori interstellar communications equipment had survived the battle.

To top it all off, Stardust could not set down on Brodor to unload Josh’s troops. She had a gaping hole in her side and would need major repairs before entering atmosphere again. Josh’s men would have to transfer to the surface by shuttle in small groups. As soon as they did, Stardust would set out for Parsons’ World, micro jumping all the way. Brodor needed Chandrajuski’s fleet yesterday, and they had a whole batch of prisoners.

What were they going to do with them? They couldn’t leave them on the derelict forever, yet Brodor not only did not have adequate facilities to house them, Brodor refused them entry. Even Otis, with his wider view of galactic issues, supported his people in this. Anyone choosing to attack Brodor would henceforth understand they could not count on Brodor to offer quarter. Such was not the cats’ way. The Rebels could starve or freeze to death in space for all Otis cared.

Chandrajuski would have to deal with these problems in whatever way he felt appropriate. Neither Mike, Otis, or Josh had the time. Their training came first.

The three of them rode down to Brodor together, Otis clearly elated with the respite given to his people. Normally taciturn and a cat of few words, he was positively ebullient this day. “Welcome to Brodor, Mike, Josh. My people . . . we call ourselves ‘The People,’ but you and most others refer to us as ‘Great Cats’ . . . welcome both of you. There will be no welcoming committee today, but we will throw something together before you leave to honor you and your men. We will name each of your men, names of honor that will become part of our history to be carried forward through the ages.”

“Hold it, Otis,” Josh said, holding up a hand. “I didn’t do anything. My only purpose here is to train.”

Otis sighed. “Are all you Earthmen so stubborn? Of course you did something. You led your warriors through a great battle, the second time in two thousand years that Brodor was singled out by others for annihilation. First, the Empire came to our rescue. Now, Earth has come to our rescue. You selected and organized your men on Earth, you led them into space, and you led them through battle. What does it matter that you did not pull a trigger during the battle? Neither did Mike or I. The battle was won largely because we chose the right soldiers, but also because we made the right decisions during the battle that allowed them to function to their fullest.”

He showed Josh his feral grin before continuing, “Besides, take the credit when you can – there will be plenty of opportunities to take the blame. You might as well try to keep things in balance.”

With a more serious look, he added, “Let me give you your first lesson as a Protector. Before leaving here on assignment, all Guardians and Protectors know there will be failures ahead, even personal failures. But we do not focus on blame, we focus on mission. Even in the midst of failure, the Queen counts on us to continue performing. That takes a lot of maturity. It takes, as well, knowing that we are very good at what we do, maybe the best at what we do. When failure comes, it is because anyone else would have failed, as well.

“We do not give up, ever. Everything is ‘forward’ from here. There is no looking back, no second guessing. If we lose sight of that, all is lost because there will not be a second chance.”

The spaceport surprised Mike, though Josh, never having set foot on any planet other than Earth, hadn’t known what to expect, nor did he care. Stepping down from the shuttle was a very large step for him.

Mike had expected a city. Instead, they stepped out onto a landing pad situated in the midst of a great prairie. The landing area was completely unattended by ground staff. Tall grass came right up to the edges of the pad. On a hilltop far off in the distance he saw a town, but in no way could it be called a city. Spaceports on Parsons’ World, Shipyard, and Centauri III had all teemed with life, but Brodor seemed empty.

He turned to Otis, but Otis was already heading down a dusty track leading to the town. Mike and Josh looked at each other, then gathered up their few belongings and ran to catch up.

When they reached the track, Mike stopped for a moment. He crouched down and gathered up a handful of dirt, then let it dribble through his fingers. As the dust dissipated, he stared up at the sky. The sun was about an hour above the horizon, and the new day was warming. He turned in a circle, taking in the land and the sky, then hustled to catch up with Otis.

“What were you doing?” Josh asked.

“Just getting oriented. It’s a long story, part of my heritage. I’ll tell you about it one of these days. Hey, Otis!” he called. “Where is everyone?”

“Sorry, guys,” Otis said, explaining that there were no large cities on Brodor, nor were there any major highways. There was only one hotel suitable for outworlders, built primarily to house traders, but it was on the other side of the planet. The Great Cats chose to live a simple life, much closer to nature than most advanced species.

“What do you trade, Otis?” Josh asked.

“Our people,” Otis replied. “They are our only external commodity. Hasn’t Mike told you?”

“How can I tell what I don’t know?” Mike answered, slightly miffed. “I know the cats I’ve met have been exceptionally talented warriors, and I know they specialize in protection. Beyond that, I know virtually nothing about you. You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about your people.”

A tiny, bird unnoticed by Mike and Josh, suddenly swooped down on Josh. Otis pushed Josh out of the way and caught the bird in his hand without seeming to hurt it. The thing had vicious looking teeth and claws.

“You don’t want to get bitten by this little guy,” Otis instructed calmly as if nothing unusual had happened. “It’s bite is venomous. One bite will not kill you, but several biting at the same time might. Even one bite would make your next week miserable.”

He flung it back into the air and watched it fly away, uttering under his breath, “Miserable creature.”

He continued on his way as if nothing unusual had happened. Mike and Josh looked at each other in bewilderment, then shrugged and hustled to keep up with Otis, keeping a wary eye out to the sky as well. Their hands stayed near their blasters. How had Otis caught the bird in his bare hand, Mike wondered, and without hurting it? The Great Cats were famous for their quick reflexes, but to treat such a thing so casually struck Mike as pretty unusual.

Otis continued the discussion, explaining that no one knew much about Brodor, and the Great Cats preferred it that way. Josh’s men were an exception. Because of the unusual attempt to unify Terran and Brodor troops, he would hold little back from them.

Brodor’s population was around 100 million, very small by Empire standards. The Great Cats led what most of the galaxy would consider a brutal lifestyle, if they knew about it, though it was a lifestyle the cats chose of their own free will. The cats were predators, had always been predators, and they would continue to be predators, but never against their own kind. There had never been warfare on the planet. Natural prey abounded, and that satisfied their predatory needs.

For most of a cat’s lifetime, if he or she wanted to eat, he or she had to catch and kill their meal. The planet hosted a number of different prey, animals that over many thousands of years had developed their own skills to high levels. Competition was keen on Brodor. The People had been forced to develop their own skills to higher levels or perish. Those that failed did not live long.

The People had developed tools to assist them against their prey, and they were not shy about using them on occasion, but most preferred to hunt with their bare hands and teeth. Despite this anachronistic lifestyle, the cats did not live in poverty. Schools and universities were available to any who desired to attend, and most did attend. The People had their writers and poets and builders and doctors, they were comfortable with the high technology of the Empire, but they had little interest in other worlds. Other than the Guardians and Protectors who, by necessity, spent their lives surrounded by the highest of technologies, most on Brodor used technology in limited ways.

Mike and Josh sensed a rushing sound in the grass beside the dirt track and stopped, turning to Otis with questioning looks.

“I suggest you keep your weapons ready,” he replied to their unspoken question. “This particular little beast usually attacks in groups. The sound you heard is probably a diversion. Best look to the other side of the road, as well.”

Mike couldn’t believe his ears, nor could Josh. They both hesitated momentarily, looking at each other in confusion. Josh gave a hand signal, and they both turned to opposite sides of the road, but they were too late. Two dark brown streaks shot out of the grass at Mike and four more came at Josh. Neither had even raised a weapon before Otis’ blasters, one in each forehand, disintegrated all six creatures. None escaped. Mike and Josh whirled around looking for others as Otis casually holstered his weapons, then continued down the track in the direction of the village.

“Hold it, Otis,” Mike demanded, his blaster swinging uselessly at his side. “What’s going on here?”

Otis’ great head swung back toward them. “Welcome to Brodor, Mike, Josh,” he answered with his toothy grin. “I suggest that if you wish to live very long you stay alert. The creatures that inhabit this world would love for you to let your guard down. A moment is all they need.”

“You mean it’s always going to be like this?” Mike asked, aghast.

Otis turned toward them and sat, his head cocked at an angle. “It was Reba’s suggestion that we train here, Mike. In fact, it wasn’t really a suggestion, it was a demand, and I think I like the idea. Your men will develop a certain minimal level of alertness or they will perish. If they survive, they will have developed a working relationship with my men and a better understanding of their teammates. As I said, outsiders have never been invited to train under the circumstances we live with on a routine basis every day of our lives. This should be interesting.”

Mike gulped but kept looking around as he did so. Josh, too, looked worried, acting suddenly as if he was in a combat zone. And he was. “Do you expect us to kill our own dinners?” he demanded of Otis.

“Not right away. We don’t have the time. My men will not be hunting overmuch, either.”

“I’ve got to get back to the landing sight, Mike,” Josh interrupted. “I can’t let my men walk into this without warning.”

Otis padded back to Josh and glared up at him. “Give my men some credit, Colonel. They’ve all been instructors here at one time or another. And give them a chance to prove their mettle. Your men far outclassed them on the cruiser, and they’re smarting from it. They are not accustomed to being second best under any circumstances.”

Josh’s eyes continued shifting from side to side, waiting for another ambush. “How do you expect us to learn anything if we’re constantly distracted with trying to stay alive?” he asked.

“If you and your men learn that and nothing else, we will have accomplished our goal,” Otis replied matter-of-factly. “You might be the best of the best at soldiering, but that is no longer your task. You’re here to learn how to protect. We’ll cover planning, organization, and the necessary technology, but our job often comes down to the instantaneous reactions of trained men.

“Your men will never be the equal of mine. They are not physically as well adapted for this job,” Otis lectured, “but they will learn to provide backup, and it will be meaningful backup. They will add to the teams’ effectiveness, not drag the team down, or else this plan will fail. Your first month here will be devoted solely to that purpose. All training will take place outdoors. All of you will be forced to be on guard constantly. The lessons you receive during that time will be basic and repetitive, allowing you ample room for distraction. Your second and final month here will include indoor instruction under circumstances that will allow concentrated focus on the material, but we will spend plenty of time outdoors then, as well. Even after graduation when we’re on the job protecting the Queen, everyone’s mettle will be constantly challenged by training events the team leaders prepare. I can’t say your men will be better soldiers when we’re done here,” Otis added as they continued up the track toward the village, “but I promise you that your men will be far better Protectors.”

Otis continued lecturing as they walked, informing them that the Great Cats had, over the centuries, become known as Guardians, sought by the wealthy and powerful throughout the galaxy for their protection skills. Brodor was very, very highly paid for these services. The People fielded one Guardian for about every 200 of The People, meaning there were some 500,000 Guardians in total. Of those Guardians, one in a hundred reached the level of Protector, some 5,000 Protectors in all.

Mike was stunned. “You mean there are only 5,000 Protectors in the whole galaxy?”

“Actually, we’re short a few right now,” Otis responded gravely. “They’ve come on hard times.”

Mike, until this very moment, had never realized just what it meant to be surrounded by Protectors all the time. The cost of protecting the Royal Family must be prohibitive.

“Uh, just how much does the Royal Family pay Brodor for this protection?”

“Nothing,” Otis snapped. “We never charge the Royal Family. It’s a privilege to serve as we do.” Then his lips rose, presenting his teeth in a leer this time. “Don’t worry. We more than make up for it with private contracts. Besides, Brodor’s needs are minimal. We don’t need a lot of income from the Empire. That may be changing. It’s beginning to look like we’ll have to apportion more proceeds to our own protection, but in the past, the Queen has always taken care of that for us. The special skills we sell to the Empire are not appropriate for planetary defense. We’re going to have to bring a whole new group of fighters into existence. As you can see, it has become a problem of the first magnitude, but it is not your problem. We will deal with it.”

“Actually, as First Knight, it might very well become my problem. I might insist that it does. We’ll see.”

The training was everything Otis promised and more. The men were issued stun guns in addition to their personal blasters. Stunning was the preferred method of defending one’s self in the training area, otherwise the whole area would become devoid of life. If a blaster was used by mistake, penalties in the time-honored form of extra physical training befell the unlucky soldier.

Target practice with all manner of weapons was the primary goal of the first month of training. Everyone’s aim was expected to be perfect, whether it be a gun, a knife, or any number of other Empire weapons, most of them simple and old fashioned rather than highly technical and modern. Hand to hand combat was practiced to a certain degree, but the humans could not match the strength of the cats and didn’t have to find out the hard way to know it. Instead, hand to hand focused primarily on identifying the most sensitive zones on many different alien bodies and the weakest spots on body armor.

Early on, Josh’s men paired up with Otis’ cats into teams consisting of six Great Cats and six Terrans, as the men from Earth began calling themselves. The teams proved to be too large and unwieldy and were soon divided in half, doubling the number of teams, each consisting of three cats and three Terrans.

About one-tenth of the cats were Protectors, the rest Guardians, but the Terrans could detect no differences between them and were not told who was which.

To everyone’s surprise, guard duty became the most hotly sought after activity among the Terrans, so much so that Josh had to work out a rotation among his men to ensure everyone spent at least a minimum amount of time in the classroom. All manner of creatures lurked in the wild, but the greatest challenge came from the cats themselves. Cats from the instructor cadre roamed at will, and they took pleasure in surprising the unwary. Josh’s men quickly tired of being made to look inept, always on the losing end of the Great Cat’s sneak attacks and. With his permission, they began actively patrolling the surrounding countryside and setting up ‘hide sites’ from which they could warn others. The hide sites, when constructed properly, and Josh’s men were superb at the task, virtually blended into the surroundings. The instructors soon found themselves forced farther from the main group, and they were eventually forced to plan coordinated attacks in order to get through.

The Terrans had brought Ghilley suits with them from Earth and spent every spare moment preparing themselves to blend in with the countryside. It became a game for both sides, sometimes a dangerous game as many cats and Terrans fell to stunners, but in the end Josh’s men proved their mettle against these cunning teachers.

Otis changed tactics during the third week, sending out six-man/cat teams instead of just the Terrans. There was some disgruntlement among Josh’s men following this announcement – competition had been fierce among the men on the teams, to the point that wagers had become commonplace.

Mike, a hunter since childhood and anxious to prove his mettle, got plenty of opportunity to learn the basics. His team, consisting of himself, Josh, and Sergeant Jacobs, was paired up with Otis, Jessie and one other Great Cat. At Otis’ insistence, knowing that Mike and Josh would spend more time around the Queen than any of the rest and that they might someday find themselves cut off from other support, they focused on the basics: marksmanship and small team tactics. They patrolled, but they spent little time in the hide sites.

Mike clearly dragged down his team’s performance. He was no match for Josh or Jacobs, both tough veterans of many missions, both hardened warriors. No one was surprised: there was just no way he could catch up on their years of experience, nor was he expected to. But as he had aboard ship, Sergeant Jacobs never let up on him, always demanding better performance. And he got better, much better. In addition to improving his skills, Mike got tougher. Gone were any vestiges of underlying fat from his many months aboard ships. He was in better shape than most soldiers on Earth, and he became reasonably well-skilled in the basic skills needed by Protectors.

The Terrans had brought advanced thermal vision goggles with them from Earth, and the goggles proved extremely helpful. The Great Cats had for eons depended on natural selection to hone their skills, preferring to operate unencumbered by advanced technology. They quickly found themselves at a distinct disadvantage in the dark. Though they could move faster and more quietly, they could not see as well as the Terrans. Josh’s men, on the other hand, had specialized for years in night fighting and were as comfortable working in the dark as they were during the daytime. They, in fact, preferred the advantages offered by darkness.

In addition to hand signals, the Terrans and Great Cats developed a fairly refined vocabulary of simple commands. At Josh’s urging, Otis agreed to equip everyone with miniature earpieces, thereby bringing the Terrans’ hearing abilities to a level with the cats. Whispered commands, even in the dark, previously only heard by the cats, kept the whole team in the loop. The Terrans’ night vision advantage, coupled with the cats’ hearing and daytime vision advantages, produced great respect among the instructors, something Otis himself had not foreseen. The mixed teams truly offered advantages, even without the likes of the Chessori to stir up the pot.

The final week of the first month was spent entirely in the field. Individual teams spread out over many square miles planning, executing, and defending against attack.

They moved to different quarters for the second and final month of their training. The new quarters were a partial replica of the Palace on Triton, with vast rooms, smaller personal chambers, and many, many corridors. The training was intense as they focused on learning skills they would need among the civilized worlds, some simple, some highly complex. By the time Otis was done with them, they knew how to operate doors and food dispensers, how to fly and fight from air cars, and they practiced clearing corridors, stairways, and rooms one by one, all the things necessary to find, protect, and remove the Queen from danger.

A full, heavy squadron of Chandrajuski’s ships arrived as their training ended. The ships were staffed with a number of Trexler’s Terran pilots and gunners still learning to work the ships. If the Chessori attacked again, these ships would do their best to hold off the enemy until help arrived.

Mike, tanned, fit, and much more confident of his own personal abilities, followed his men as they boarded another of Serge’s cargo ships for his return to Shipyard and Ellie. His vacation was over; it was time to start looking at the big picture again. He didn’t know what had transpired in the seven months since he’d left Shipyard, but he knew that things never stood still around Ellie. He fully expected to be thrust right back into crisis after crisis. That was okay, provided Ellie was by his side. A long and dangerous road lay ahead, yet a grin of satisfaction found its way to his face as he stepped over the threshold into the ship.

Krys

Chapter Fifteen

The arrival of Buskin’s squadron at Shipyard brought instant attention from ground controllers. As soon as they emerged from hyperspace, they were challenged. Otis had not given Buskin a password, but it turned out that he didn’t need one. The Great Cat Borg came on the communications link, and his loyalty was not questioned. He was told that they needed to go to Parsons’ World instead. That added another few days through hyperspace. When they completed the last jump to Parsons’ World, they were astounded. Many, many Empire ships were spread throughout the system, and they were acting oddly, as if they were in training. Some looked like they were fighting, but no shots were being fired.

Borg came on the communicator again and they were cleared in, but they picked up an escort of two squadrons during the final week.

Buskin’s squadron was not permitted to land. An inspection team came aboard, then Rappor was permitted to land while the rest of the ships remained in orbit. Rappor left her berth on the cruiser with only Buskin and Krys’ crew aboard.

Six Great Cats, three from Rappor and three of the Queen’s Protectors, met at the bottom of the ramp, then Ellie approached the ship escorted by Admiral Jons. Krys, very uncertain of herself, walked down the ramp by herself to welcome the Queen. The moment Ellie saw her, she screamed and ran to the ramp with her arms open wide. Krys, too, opened her arms, and the two embraced.

Ellie stood back from her. “You’re older. I knew you would be, but it’s still a surprise. You look well, my daughter.”

“You haven’t changed at all,” Krys blurted out. “Still as beautiful as always. I feel like I’m home again, Mother.”

“You are home, Krys. Val and Mike will be back soon. I can’t wait for you to see them.”

“Who’s Mike?”

“The man of dirt from your vision, my First Knight, and the knight in shining armor you promised me. I should warn you,” she added with a smile, “he’s uncomfortable with the whole idea of your visions.”

“Well, so am I, my Queen.”

“Can we forget about all that for a while and just enjoy a reunion?”

“We can, but I might have a mutiny on my hands if we do. My crew has waited a long time for this moment. They’re nervous as can be, and I’m not sure they really believe they’re about to meet the Queen.”

Ellie turned to the small group standing at the top of the ramp, then turned back to Krys. “You’re right. I’d prefer a little time alone with you, but it’s not just the two of us any longer. Our responsibilities have grown.” She turned Krys toward the ship. “Come on. I’ll be gentle on them.”

They walked arm in arm up the ramp and stopped. “Stand, all of you,” Ellie commanded. She approached M’Sada. “Lieutenant Commander M’Sada. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

M’Sada, momentarily forgetting himself, blurted out, “You’ve heard of me, Your Majesty?”

“I’ve heard of all of you.” She turned to Tarn. “Lieutenant Lukes, I presume?” Tarn bowed, speechless, and she turned to Gortlan. “Senior Chief Gortlan?”

“At your service, Your Majesty,” he said, going to one knee again.

She turned to Buskin. “You must be Admiral Buskin.”

“At your service, Your Majesty,” he said with a deep bow.

“I only recently learned of your activities,” she said softly. “It is my great pleasure to meet you, Admiral. Has your recruiting been successful?”

“Since each recruit represents a fallen sector or district, I must tell you that I have not been entirely successful. I had 24 squadrons as of three months ago, and that number is increasing almost daily. My preference is for them to hold, not to join me.”

She stepped back from him, but she did not let her gaze leave his eyes. “You speak with wisdom, Admiral Buskin. In you, I believe Chandrajuski chose well. Your present rank is temporary, is it not?”

“It is, your Highness.”

“Your promotion to Fleet Admiral is hereby made permanent. We’ll have a small ceremony aboard your cruiser later. I am in your debt.”

“My men and I do nothing more or less than stand by our oaths, Your Majesty. They would be honored by a visit.”

“It is I who is honored by their efforts. I’ll let them know.” She turned to Krys. “Three of your crew are missing.”

“Not missing, just working, Your Majesty. Captain Stven has learned the hard way to never let his guard down. He’s in the net monitoring activities outside the ship, and his two gunners are at their stations.”

She took a step back. “Otis would be proud of him. I’m proud of him. I, too, endured months of fear, of constant alertness, and I applaud your watchfulness, but you can relax now. You’ve reached a safe haven, all of you,” she said, turning to take in everyone in the group. She turned back to Krys. “Will you take me to the bridge? I’m not certain where it is.”

When they reached the bridge, Stven’s body was resting on the floor, his four legs splayed out and his damaged wing extended slightly from his body. Gordi’i and Kali’i lounged in their seats. All wore the helmets necessary to enter the net. Ellie turned to M’Sada, asking quietly, “May I join them on your net?”

M’Sada’s upper hands began a rapid preening of his whiskers. He, too, spoke quietly. “It’s your ship and your net, Your Majesty, but I don’t recommend it. He has a tendency to ‘puff’ when he’s surprised.”

She smiled. “I spent years on Rrestriss. I’m not unfamiliar with the smell.” She spoke to Cassandra, her Rider. >It would be best if you stay in the background, my dear.<

>I understand. Few know the Queen carries a Rider.<

Ellie sat and donned a helmet, then waited while the net adjusted to her. It had been many months since she’d been inside a net, and the feeling brought back a lot of memories, some bad and some wonderful.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” she asked as soon as she was in.

Stven turned his attention away from the ship to focus on this new persona on the net. Words were not necessary within the net, and he knew instantly who she was. His virtual image stared at her, frozen. So shocked was he that he forgot to puff. “Your Majesty?” he finally asked, lowering his virtual neck to the virtual deck.

“Stand tall, Captain,” she commanded. “Be welcome to this world, and if you will, accept my thanks for all you have done.”

The dragon blinked. A small puff escaped, but it was a very small puff. His long neck rose and he was a Rress again, one of the most ancient and respected species within the Empire. “On behalf of my crew, I say, ‘you’re welcome,’ Your Majesty. We haven’t done all that much, but what we have done has required all of us, the whole crew, Krys included. I’m honored to meet you.”

“You’ve clearly taken good care of Krys, who I think of as my daughter, and I shall be forever grateful. More than that, your efforts have succeeded in bringing badly needed resources to me, resources that were unexpected. You’ve held to the highest standard of your oath. Know that I know, and know that I honor you for it.”

His head moved from side to side in wonder. “Such an amazing assignment. To be in the personal presence of Admiral Chandrajuski, Senator Truax, Sir Otis, and now you. I’m slightly at a loss for words, Your Majesty.”

“You’re going to be seeing lots more of me, so get used to it. How is Senator Truax, by the way?”

“I have not seen him since we parted on Mitala I, Your Majesty. His mission is much more dangerous than ours, and I fear for him.”

Her hand went to her throat. “He’s an honored friend. He mentored me during my time on Rrestriss. Did you know?”

“You, too? He gets around, doesn’t he. Uh . . . no, Your Majesty.”

“I see you’ve been wounded.”

“Just a minor wound, Your Majesty. Krys’ was much worse.”

“She was wounded?” Ellie asked in alarm.

“She was, by the Chessori. This mind weapon of theirs disables all of us, but it causes physical harm to her.”

“I want the full story, but it will have to come later. For now, stand down, Captain. This world is as safe as anywhere in the Empire. Will you join me for dinner?”

Another small puff escaped. “Your Majesty?”

“It’s not that hard of a question, Captain. Just say yes.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“The rest of your crew will accompany you. Dress is casual, understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She turned away and went in search of Gordi’i and Kali’i. When she found them, both turned one eye on her while keeping a close watch outside the ship. Stven joined her and ordered them to stand down.

“Senior Chiefs Gordi’i and Kali’i, it is my pleasure to welcome you to my temporary home,” Ellie said.

Both gunners went to a virtual knee before their Queen, but they remained mute. Though excellent gunners, it was the manner of their species to act methodically. Gordi’i, when he was ready, spoke for both of them. “You honor us with your presence, Your Majesty. It is our pleasure to serve.”

“Stand, both of you,” she ordered. She studied the gun controls for a moment, then asked, “May I?” Gordi’i nodded, and she entered the system. Guns had been her specialty aboard Resolve, and she immediately felt at home. Emotions could not be completely hidden within the net, and her familiarity with their chosen specialty could not be hidden from these two experts. It was her way of honoring the positions they held. She played with the controls and the displays for a little while, then relinquished them, saying, “Your efforts on my behalf bring great honor to your uniforms and to yourselves. I will make certain your people hear of what you have accomplished.”

She turned to Stven. “Shall we join the others?”

A very, very small puff escaped. “Would you be kind enough to let me go first, Your Majesty? I know what I look like when I’m in the net. I’d rather be standing.”

“Off with you then. I’m not known for my patience, Captain.”

He disappeared instantly, as did Gordi’i and Kali’i. She took a moment to soak in the feeling of being in a net once again, then she, too, disconnected.

When she emerged, everyone was on their knees. “What’s this?” she demanded. “Stand, all of you. Each of you is special to me, you’re all heroes, and none of you need ever kneel before me again.”

Buskin was first to speak. “I’ve never heard of a Chosen going into a net, Your Majesty.”

“These are hard times, Admiral, and all of us are doing things we never thought we’d do, yourself included. Exceptions have been made, and they’ll continue to be made, with calculation. Your Queen leads from the front, not the rear. Understood?”

A fleeting smile crossed his face. “I do, Your Majesty. It remains my pleasure to serve.”

“We all serve the Empire, nothing more and nothing less, myself included.”

She pulled Buskin aside. “I’d like to invite all of you to dine with me, but truth be told, I don’t have much of a staff. Would you be willing to host us?”

“On my ship? Of course!”

“I’d like it to be just us. I want to hear your stories, and I want an informal setting.”

His gaze rose to the ceiling for a time, then returned to her. “The dinner can be informal, but I beg you, Your Majesty, to consider your entrance. You’re the Queen. My men have been working hard for many months, all in your name, not your person. Might it not be better to appear before them with all the appropriate regalia?”

A warm smile lit her face. “You’re right, Admiral. I stand corrected. Your men will see their Queen at her finest. Set up whatever is appropriate. Have you done this before?”

“No, Your Majesty, but I’ll figure something out. It might not be what you’re accustomed to. My sailors are going to be busy with preparations, and they’ll grumble, but they’ll love it. Will you stay the night?”

“I will, and I’ll inspect the squadron tomorrow if that works for you.” She turned to face Krys’ crew. “We have certain formalities to complete. You’re all heroes, but we’ve learned some things the hard way. Each of you must be Tested.” She turned to Krys. “Do you have a lounge or meeting area on the ship? I’d like to get this over with.”

Krys led her to the lounge and was Tested, then each of the others stood before their Queen, one at a time. It didn’t take long, as Ellie had known it would not. When she was done, she sent for Krys and excused everyone else.

“Stven said you were wounded,” she began as Krys settled into a chair with her legs folded beneath herself.

“Not exactly. I only experienced the Chessori mind weapon strongly one time, and I don’t even remember it. I spent a few days in sick bay, then I was back on my feet.”

“What happened to you?”

“Bleeding in my brain is what happened to me. It was only minor.”

“It doesn’t sound minor to me.”

“It was, Your Majesty. We’re taking special precautions for the next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

Krys closed her eyes. She’d known this subject would come up, but she had hoped it wouldn’t come up so soon. When she opened her eyes, she encountered the determined look she knew so well, a look that brooked no argument. “I can’t stay here, Mother.”

“You can, and you will. I’m not going to let you go gallivanting all over the Empire when it could kill you. Besides the fact that I love you, you’re my Seer, as you’ve been telling everyone. I need you by my side.”

“You need me out there more.”

Ellie stared at her. “I do?”

“Yes, you do. I haven’t had a lot of visions, but those I’ve had have been meaningful and productive for you and your leaders. Did you know I’ve actually forecast two major battles, and the commander is forewarned?”

“I do know. Chandrajuski, Mike, and Val met with Seeton and Veswicki.”

“What if I can do more of that?”

“Why don’t you do it for us, instead?”

“Why don’t I do it for all of you. I can come back, you know.”

Ellie brooded. All of her Knights, all of her close friends, were out on assignment, each of them in harm’s way. Must all of her loved ones leave her side?

Krys understood. “I’m sorry, Mother. I, too, would like to stay. I’m terrified out there.”

“Then stay.”

“I can’t. You need me out there more than you need me here.”

Ellie wanted more time to think, but in her heart she knew Krys spoke true. Her visions had, indeed, been fortuitous. She changed the subject. “I have a name, you know.”

“Ellandra of the Chosen. I know, but you’re Queen now, Your Majesty.”

“In private, for some, I prefer my name. I have a new name, given to me by Michael. He calls me Ellie. Will you do the same?”

Krys considered. “In my heart, I think of you as Mother. Those two years we had after you pulled me from the orphanage is a time I will cherish forever.”

“And I still think of you as my daughter. Val is learning to call me Ellie, though it’s not easy for him. I’ve formed an Inner Circle, and he’s a member. Will you join me in my Inner Circle?”

“As the Queen’s Seer, it makes sense. As Krys, I don’t have much to offer.”

“Oh, you might surprise yourself. We’re all young for our positions, and we all make mistakes, but we’ve done a lot of things right, too.”

“You’re alive, and that’s something. I truly feared for you when we arrived at Dorwall.”

“It was a terrible time. Many sacrificed themselves in my name, and I will never get over the sadness it brings to me. This is all so horrible.”

“But we persevere, Mother.”

“We do. And your part in it has been to speak in my name.”

Krys paled, but she had known this would come up. She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry, Mother. It was the only way.”

Ellie smiled fondly at her daughter. “I know. I’m amazed that you managed to deal with all those admirals, governors, and senators so successfully.”

“The Great Cats opened many doors. Those they didn’t open were opened by the locket.”

“Ah, yes. The locket. I’d like it back, Krys.”

“Mother?” she asked in horror.

“It’s time to return it, my daughter.”

Krys pulled the chain from under her coveralls and stared at the locket. Never used until two years ago, it had become a part of the person she considered herself to be, a part of her very identity. She removed the chain from around her neck and held it out to Ellie with a trembling hand.

Ellie took it and stood. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She wasn’t gone long, and when she returned, she had Krys’ whole crew with her. The small lounge was overflowing by the time they all got settled, and Stven had to settle for the corridor, though his head reaching through the door towered above everyone.

She got right down to business, her focus Krys. “As a Friend, you’ve called others to my side. You’ve transcended rank and position to do so, you’ve used my name in the process, and you’ve chosen well. Few exercise such rights. Those that do are called Knights of the Realm. Since learning of your activities, I have waited in hope for your day of Naming. Will you kneel before your Queen, my daughter?”

Krys’ lips trembled. She whispered, “What are you doing, Mother?” forgetting that they were no longer in private.

“It’s time to officially Name you for who you are.”

“Val is the Knight in our family.”

Ellie looked at her kindly, and a little sadly. “Little is known about your parents, but they created two individuals of unparalleled ability. You and your brother are both made of the stuff of Knights, my dear.”

Krys looked to her friends, not only uncertain, but in disbelief about what was happening. Stven nodded his great head, his purple eyes telegraphing triumph. M’Sada’s upper hands were working overtime on his antennae, but he, too, encouraged her with a clicking of his mandibles.

Tarn came to Krys and took her arm, stepping with her to her Queen. “You choose well, Your Majesty,” he said.

She smiled. “In this, I do.”

Tarn helped Krys to go to one knee, not that she needed help had she had her wits about her. She was far more flexible than he would ever be. He stepped back, and Ellie put both of her hands on Krys’ head, then lifted her eyes to her daughter’s friends.

“You are witness to a ceremony few ever see, something very private and almost holy among the Chosen and their Knights. To be chosen as a Knight is not so much an honor as it is a call to even greater sacrifice in my name.”

She lowered her gaze to rest upon Krys. “From the day we met, we’ve both known that our futures were linked. Since then, you have spoken in my name, and to those you have spoken you are called My Lady. It is a title earned and a title respected. Your Naming day has come, and the title My Lady will now be official. You have already demonstrated fealty to the Empire. Krys, do you swear continued fealty to my crown?”

To Krys, Knights of the Realm were legendary characters straight out of the adventure novels she had so cherished during her unhappy years at the orphanage. She wasn’t in their league. Val was, and he had been for as long as she’d known him, but she still thought of herself as the young girl she had been when she first met Daughter. Now, the person she called mother was asking her to leave her childhood behind, to be a woman, an adult . . . a leader.

She took Ellie’s hands in her own and removed them from her head. She kissed each of those hands, then turned to Tarn, still holding Ellie’s hands. How did he feel about this? The answer to that question was more important to her than the demand from her mother. Did that mean she was already no longer a child?

He returned her look, then went to one knee beside her and touched her cheek. “You are a Knight, My Lady. Say yes.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, then stood up.

Krys felt an inner strength filling her all of a sudden. Her Naming was unexpected, not something she had sought, but it was okay with him, and it was suddenly right. She looked up into Ellie’s eyes. She wanted to help this woman whom she so loved, and she wanted to help the Empire, knew she could help the Empire. It’s what Seer’s did, at least this Seer.

“I do swear fealty to you, Your Majesty.”

Ellie smiled and pulled Krys to her feet. She reached into one of her voluminous pockets and pulled out two Knight’s Pins. She placed the pins in Krys’ hands, then pressed those hands together within her own. Her eyes closed for a time, then she removed her hands. “Activate the pins, Krys.”

Krys passed her hand over the two pins, and both sprung open. Ellie’s countenance shone forth. Ellie took the pins from Krys, closed them, then pinned them in place on the collar of Krys’ coveralls, saying, “With these tokens, I knight thee, Lady Krys, Knight of the Realm. Your word is my command on all worlds of the Empire.” She drew Krys into an embrace, an embrace that was returned strongly, then turned Krys to face her crew.

“I present Lady Krys.”

Krys turned and buried her head in Tarn’s chest. Ellie stood back in surprise, suddenly fully aware of what this young man meant to Krys. Her heart warmed. Tarn’s gaze met hers, and his arms tightened around Krys. Tarn and his Queen stared at each other for a time, each with similar thoughts. The Naming of a Knight was a call to greater sacrifice. What would that sacrifice entail for Krys? Whatever it was, Ellie read in his eyes that he would be by her side throughout.

She broke eye contact with Tarn and looked to Krys’ crew. “You have stood beside Lady Krys, a woman I call daughter, for many months. You have endured great perils in my name, and Krys informs me that her mission is not yet done. As Empire officers, your Queen charges you to remain by her side for however long it takes to end this rebellion. As Ellandra of the Chosen, I ask you personally to accept this charge. Will you?”

Stven nodded his great head and said yes. M’Sada stopped his preening and clicked his mandibles, then uttered, “Of course, Your Majesty.” Tarn just looked at her and nodded grimly, his arms still engulfing Krys. Gortlan and the two gunners nodded solemnly.

She removed a locket and chain from a pocket and stepped to Stven. “Captain Stven, I Name you Friend of the Royal Family,” she said as she placed the chain over his head. She repeated the process before each of the crew, Naming each of them a Friend.

Tarn came last. She studied him for a moment, then reached into another pocket and removed another locket. “This one belonged to Krys,” she said with a glimmer in her eyes. She placed it over his head, saying, “Tarn Lukes, I Name you Friend of the Royal Family.”

When she was done, she stepped back. “You have seen the power of these lockets. Use them wisely.”

All of them lowered themselves to the deck, but Ellie would have none of it. “We’re off to dinner. I had hoped it would be an informal affair, but we’re going up to Admiral Buskin’s ship, and he has asked for a formal entrance. For those of you who wear clothes, it’s time to dress. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

They lifted for the cruiser an hour later, and Ellie again pulled Krys to the side. “Will you stay with me when we go aboard? I’d like to have a Knight by my side.”

Krys smiled. “I will, Mother.”

“Tarn is special, and it shows. I’m happy for you.”

“He’s the Guide, Mother.”

Ellie sucked in a breath. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. In my hour of need, he came, and now he’s far more than Guide. I’ve fallen in love with him.”

“I see that now.”

Krys sighed. “If I could have nothing else, it would be to have his undivided attention in private.”

“You’ve had no privacy? I’m sorry.”

“It’s a small ship. There’s no possibility of privacy.” She blushed, and Ellie laughed.

“I know what you mean. Admiral Jons needs to return to the surface tonight after dinner. Would you and Tarn like to accompany him?”

“Why?”

Ellie leaned toward Krys and spoke confidentially. “I’m staying aboard with Admiral Buskin. My quarters are empty, my dear.”

Krys looked at her in shock. “Mother! You’d do that for me?”

“Not just for you. For him, as well, but only under the condition that he only shares your love, he doesn’t demand all of it.”

Krys’ eyes took on a calculating look. “It won’t be easy to convince him. Chandrajuski ordered him to remain a gentleman.”

“My dear, you outrank Chandrajuski now.”

“But I can’t compel his love.”

“No, you cannot. I faced the same problem with Michael. We’ve managed to work it out.”

“Hmm. You’ll be gone all day tomorrow?”

“At least. I might choose to visit each ship, and that will take longer. Would you like that?”

She smiled. “I’d like that very much, Mother. I love you. I hope you know that’s not going to change.”

“I know. We have too many years behind us and more ahead of us. There are others who will become part of your life, who you will have to share your love with. Did you know Val, too, is in love?”

“No! Who is she?”

“She, too, is a Knight. Her name is Reba, and I know you’re going to like her.”

“Where are they?”

“To the best of my knowledge, Val is on Orion III with Korban. A battle’s shaping up there, and Chandrajuski is pulling out all the stakes.”

“It’s the first battle?”

“Yes. Chandrajuski has not forgotten what Seeton learned from your vision. I think Admiral Buskin will be his reinforcements at Aldebaran I when the time comes.”

“If he’s ready. The Chessori are a serious deterrent.”

“I know. Mike and Reba are working on it.”

“How?”

“We have a lot to talk about. Let’s leave it until later.”

* * * * *

When dinner ended, Krys took Tarn by the arm and led him toward the hangar deck.

“What’s up, My Lady?” he asked.

“Admiral Jons needs a lift back to the surface. We’re taking him in Rappor. You do know how to land this thing, don’t you?”

“Yes, My Lady,” he said stiffly.

A Great Cat met them at the foot of the ramp when they landed. Jons bid them farewell, and Krys took Tarn’s arm and followed the cat. When they arrived at Ellie’s quarters, the Great Cat remained outside the door when she closed it. Tarn was clearly confused, and his uneasiness was clear to Krys.

She was not confused, and she was not uneasy – she was focused. “We have the place to ourselves, tonight and all day tomorrow.”

“My Lady?”

She turned to stare at him, then pulled him to herself. “My Lady, huh?”

“You’re a Knight of the Realm now, Krys, and you really are My Lady.”

“Wrong, Tarn. I’m not My Lady, I’m your lady, for as long as you’ll have me. That hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, but it has.”

She leaned back from him, a mischievous smile on her face. “Do you want it to change?”

“Of course not. You know me better than that.”

“I do. Between us, there is only us, Tarn. I may be a Knight, but I will never command your love. Can you accept me on those terms?”

“I love you, Krys. I’ll accept you on any terms you offer.”

“You’re my knight. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m beginning to know it.”

“We have tonight and all day tomorrow. It’s the first time we’ve ever had privacy. Will you stay with me?”

“I will. Rank or no, you are my lady.”

“And you’re my man. Mother arranged all this, you know.”

He panicked. “The Queen?” He looked around the quarters. “This is her place?”

“It is, and she’s happy to share it with us, but only so long as you don’t claim all my love. For the moment you have, but in the long run, I think you’re going to have to accept her as part of me.”

“You ask too much.”

“I do, and I will. You’re man enough. Come to me, Tarn.”

* * * * *

Ellie spent two days touring the squadron, then she joined Buskin in his office aboard the cruiser. “You need to meet with Chandrajuski. I expect him back any day. Can you wait?”

He rubbed the back of his neck as he considered. “I’d like to wait, but if he hasn’t entered the system, he’s weeks away. If you know what direction he’s coming from, I might be able to meet him out there when he drops from hyper.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

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

“What’s the scree?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he bring admirals?”

“Yes. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very well, Your Majesty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your harrying ships were badly outnumbered.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re the Admiral Buskin?”

“I am, sir.”

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

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

“I’ll bet you are. How many ships?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you spare an admiral or two?”

Trexler frowned. “Why?”

“How well do you know the Great Cats?”

“Not well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lady Krys? No, sir. Who’s she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

“Who’s Josh?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you suggest, Your Majesty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Sixteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike was first to speak. “Lady Krys.”

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

“You know me?” he asked.

“I know of  you, Sire. You’ve been a thread linking many of my visions, and I saw you clearly in one. You are truly a Great One.”

Mike felt a chill run through his body, and he shuddered. “The very idea of your visions frightens me,” he offered softly.

“They frighten me, too. It is not an ability I want. It just is.”

“You speak the words of your mother.”

“But I am not a Chosen. I’m just Krys, frightened out of my wits most of the time.”

He smiled. “So am I. In that, at least, we are similar.”

“You’re afraid? Impossible. You’re the man of dirt.”

“I’m just a man, Krys, a man from an emerging world who finds himself in over his head most of the time.”

Her lower lip trembled. “But we serve, Sire. We have answered the call.”

He smiled kindly. “We do. I was unwilling at first, but I’ve come around.”

Her eyes widened. “I, too, was unwilling.” She risked a glance at Ellie. “Very unwilling at first. Not anymore.”

Mike felt himself warming to this young woman who had battled her own deficiencies, just as he had, and won. He felt rooted in place and had to force a foot to move in her direction, then another. He stuck his hand out. “Welcome to our small family, Krys.”

She stepped back, her hand held out before her to warn him. He stopped in surprise and stared at her. She lifted pleading eyes to him. “Sire, you are intimately tied to most of my visions, and we have never even met. Touch me at your peril.”

His eyes widened, and he stepped back from her, more frightened than when he had faced the Chessori. They stared at each other, Mike with fear in his eyes, and Krys with understanding and patience.

“I think this is part of our duty, Sire,” she breathed softly.

“I know. I don’t have to like it.” He looked to Ellie for help, but what could she do? He turned back to Krys. “I can’t move my feet.”

Krys nodded. With her gaze never leaving his, she stepped boldly to him and held out both hands in a fist. His eyes left hers to stare at those hands. Then, with pursed lips, he grasped them in both of his own.

The moment they touched, Krys’ eyes glazed over and her body stiffened. She held for long moments, then crumpled to the floor. Mike had felt nothing. He forgot his own fear and scooped her up into his arms. He looked around, then carried her to a couch and sat with her on his lap, her head resting in the crook of his arm. Ellie, truly frightened, knelt before them, her hand on Krys’ face.

“Is she okay?”

Mike felt for a pulse in her neck and found one easily. “She’s okay. Just give her a minute.”

When Krys came back to herself, her eyes opened to find her First Knight’s eyes staring into her own from inches away. His hand brushed at her face and she closed her eyes again, yielding to his comforting touch. “I saw . . .”

Mike placed two fingers over her mouth. “There’s time for that later. Rest, Krys.” She closed her eyes, and he continued to brush his hand across her face. So young, he thought, and so much depended on the rightness of her visions.

Ellie leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Would you like me to call Tarn?” she asked softly.

Krys nodded and tried, weakly, to rise. “The Guide should be here.” She looked into Mike’s eyes. “I’m sorry, First Knight.”

“Don’t be. Close your eyes and rest. It’s the least I can do for one of my Knights.”

He felt her body relax, and they stayed that way until Tarn arrived on the run. A Great Cat opened the door for him before he got there, and Tarn came into the room skidding to a halt, Krys his only concern. He knelt beside her and called softly to her. There was no response. He looked up at Mike. “What happened?”

“Actually, I think she fell asleep. She had a vision and collapsed, but she was awake for a minute or so. She’s okay, Tarn.”

“Are you sure?’

“Pretty sure. I’ve never seen her have a vision. This one seemed to take the stuffing out of her. Is that normal?”

“No, it’s not. Not at all. Have you called for a doctor?”

Ellie touched his arm, suddenly more concerned than she had been. “No, Tarn. I’ll do so immediately.”

Krys reached an arm out slowly to Tarn. “I’m okay. I’m awake, sort of.”

He took her hand and looked up at Mike. “Who are you?”

“Around here I seem to be known as the man of dirt.”

Tarn stared at him, blinking, then he bowed his head. “First Knight.”

“Relax, Tarn. Krys is our only focus at the moment.”

The doctor arrived and ran a portable sensor over her body. He pronounced her fine and left. Krys struggled to sit up, glancing with hooded eyes at Mike.

“I’m so embarrassed, First Knight,” she said shyly.

“Don’t be. I’m not. We’re all in this together, young lady.”

Mike and Tarn traded places, and she rested her head on Tarn’s shoulder.

Ellie clapped her hands together. “Well! This has been interesting,” she said to the room at large.

“I’m sorry, Mother.”

“It’s my fault for springing this on you. I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you okay?”

“I am. It’s the strongest, clearest vision I’ve ever had. I was actually able to look around.”

“Are you ready to talk about it, or would you like to wait? Can it wait?”

“It can, but I’m ready.” She looked to Mike. “The vision was of you, of course.”

“Of course?”

“All of my recent visions have come from contact with that person. I don’t know if that’s always necessary, it wasn’t for my earliest visions, but that’s how it’s been. You were walking out of the Imperial Senate chambers.” She looked to Ellie. “He was carrying you in his arms, Mother.”

“Was I . . .?”

“I don’t know. You were completely limp.”

Mike and Ellie exchanged frightened looks. Tarn shared their concern and spoke softly. “You said you could look around this time. What else did you see, Krys?”

“Before me, a cruiser hovered some twenty feet above the ground, filling the park in front of the Senate. Ramps were just extending to the ground. The remains of a number of stingers were smoking here and there, and many soldiers dressed in strange attire moved among them, some leading or carrying wounded. A number of Great Cats patrolled. I looked behind me, and the senate chamber was full, but all the senators were down. I believe they were under the influence of the scree. Several soldiers stood on the stage. One of them was pointing a blaster at a small group of Chessori, the only others in the room that were standing.”

Mike had risen to his feet as she spoke. “You say the senators were under the influence of the scree, but Ellie wasn’t moving?”

“I’m sorry, Sire,” she said, looking back and forth between him and Ellie, clearly frightened. “She was completely limp in your arms.”

Silence descended on the room. Tarn broke it, moving to kneel in front of her. “You said that’s what you saw. What did you feel, Krys?”

She considered his words, and surprise filled her face. She looked on him with love shining in her eyes. “You ask just the right question, my love. I didn’t know until you asked. I felt . . . accomplishment and . . . hope? Yes, hope.” She lifted her eyes to Ellie. “I sensed hope, Mother. I sensed hope.”

Mike had gone to Ellie’s side and pulled her into his arms. Two sets of frightened eyes stared at her. “But you don’t know, do you,” Ellie said softly.

“No, Mother, but the feelings I sensed were those of your First Knight.”

Ellie stared at her, then she turned to Mike and lifted a hand to caress his cheek. “Then I, too, feel hope,” but her actions belied her words. She put her arms around his waist and clung fiercely to him.

Mike looked over her head at Krys, not certain about how he should feel. He wanted to hate this young woman, but as he saw the agony in her eyes, he wanted to hold her in his arms, as well. Clearly, the vision had taken a great toll on her. He reached a hand out to her, and she stood up and took that hand. He pulled her to himself with one arm, Ellie pulled her in with another arm, and the three embraced.

Tarn stood to the side, forgotten. When Mike noticed, he disengaged and stepped over to Tarn. “Ellie told me you had been helpful to Krys with her visions, and I see she’s right. Thank you for your last question. I would not have wanted the vision to end without it.”

“Uh, we might not be done yet, Sire.”

“After what’s gone on here, I think we can dispense with titles. Don’t you think Mike might be a little more appropriate?”

“No, Sire. I’m just a lieutenant.”

“You’ve also been a key player in all of this, and I suspect you’ll continue to be. Ellie considers Krys part of her family, and that makes her part of my family, too. I get the impression that might include you some day, as well, eh, Lieutenant?”

Tarn’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped back from Mike. “That’s the second time I’ve heard the word ‘family’ used here. Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Sire?”

“I’ve only known you and Krys for a short time, but it’s pretty obvious you’re in love. Will that lead to marriage? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Did it for you, Sire?”

“It did. I thought you knew.”

Tarn stared at his First Knight, then grasped his arm and led him away from the women who were, at the moment, wiping at each other’s tears. When they reached the far wall, Tarn stopped and turned to face Mike. “Are you a king, Sire?”

“I’m married to your Queen. She tells me that makes me King. Why?”

Tarn nodded his head as things fell into place. “There’s something about dirt falling through spread fingers, Your Majesty. What does it mean?”

“Just a private thing between Ellie and me.”

Tarn’s lips pressed together in determination. “Explain it,” he demanded.

Mike looked at him with furrowed brow. “It’s nothing important, and it’s private, Lieutenant.”

Tarn took a deep breath, then let it out and said softly. “Then I ask you as family, Mike. It’s that important.”

Mike stepped away, then turned back to Tarn. “Very well. Are you familiar with how Ellie and I escaped from my home world?”

“Not all the details, but in a general way, yes.”

“It was a long voyage, a very long voyage. We were under a lot of strain, and everyone was counting on me to navigate Resolve. I was doing well enough for a while, particularly when we were being tracked, but after we solved that problem, a lot of the stress went away. I expected my skills to continue improving, but they didn’t. In fact, they got worse. I started making mistakes. I missed a few jump entry points, and a couple of calculations went awry. I dug in and flogged myself, but it was obvious to my Rider and to Ellie that something was wrong. To make a long story short, we talked about it, and she even Tested me, not to see if I was true, but to see if she could discover why my performance was slipping. And she figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“I come from a long line of ancestors who were closely tied to the land on which they lived. I guess it’s in my genes or something, because I, too, am tied to the land. I didn’t even know it, but when Ellie asked me what I would most like if I could have anything I wanted, I thought for a while, then found myself in my mind reaching for a handful of dirt. I held out my hands and let the dirt trickle through my fingers. Do you see where I’m headed with this?”

Tarn nodded. “The nearest dirt was light years away.”

“Exactly, and that was the source of my distraction. Once I understood, I could deal with it and the problem went away.”

Tarn blinked as his mind reviewed the words of Buskin’s vision, until now unsolved. It was no longer unsolved. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It all makes sense now.”

“What makes sense?”

“I ask your leave to delay the explanation, Your Majesty.”

“Tarn,” Mike said threateningly, “this was all man to man. Why must I wait?”

“Things are going to start hopping around here, Your Majesty. Real soon, and I’m not sure we’re done with the vision Krys just had. Let’s finish that one up before we move on to another. Some of her visions are accompanied by words. Let’s find out if this one was.”

Mike took Tarn’s shoulder and led him back to Ellie and Krys. “Is there more to the vision?” he demanded.

Ellie answered with a grin. “There is. It was accompanied by words. This vision was so strong for Krys that she tells me the words are clear, not a riddle this time.

“Never underestimate your opponent. The man of dirt learned his lesson well. His battle is won, and all is well. Friends and family are all that matter now.”

His eyes lit up, and they shared a moment of triumph. He nodded to Krys, then took Ellie in his arms. “Surely it means you survive.”

“I think it does, Michael. How else could all be well for you? I think my realm will survive after all.”

Mike and Ellie turned to Krys and invited her into another embrace. She, too, enjoyed the moment, though in her mind, she most enjoyed Ellie’s clear display of love for the man of dirt, the knight in shining armor she had foreseen for Ellie so many years ago. Her thoughts turned to Tarn, her own knight in shining armor, and she discovered him standing with his back to them.

“Join us, Tarn,” she called.

He turned to her with a stricken look, and she instantly sobered, misunderstanding his grief. She let go of Mike and Ellie and went to him. “I’m sorry, Tarn. We’re not excluding you.”

“I know,” he said absently.

Alarm suddenly filled her eyes, and she understood the stricken look. Tarn’s gaze lifted from hers to Ellie’s, then to Mike’s. “I hope you’re right, Your Majesties. I’m not certain that you are.”

“Right about what, Tarn?” Mike growled, his arm slowly falling from Ellie’s waist.

Tarn closed his eyes, hating what he was about to do. “What if you’re wrong, Sire? What if it really is a riddle? The words of all the other visions have come in the form of a riddle. Why would this one be different?”

“Because I saw so clearly,” Krys assured him. “I’ve never seen so clearly.”

He shook his head and took her hand. “All your visions have been messages, My Lady. Every single one. Whether it was a message of hope, or a message of instruction, or a message of warning, each was a message, and the message carried by each has been of grave significance to the outcome of this war. Why would this one be any different?”

“But it’s so simple.”

His lips pursed as he nodded his head. “It is . . . on the surface. I don’t know what happens on Triton with the Imperial Senate, but clearly, something of import takes place. We can’t say for certain that the Queen lives through it, but you sensed that Mike is coming away from this engagement with a sense of hope and accomplishment.”

His gaze rose to take in all of them. “Look deeper, all of you.” He stared at Mike for a time, considering how best to disagree with his First Knight and King. “Someone, or something has gone to a lot of trouble to send these visions to Krys. We’ve listened to all the messages, and now the war is over. Right?”

He didn’t wait for Mike to answer. “What if you’re wrong? What if your hope is misplaced, Sire? This being has gone to all this trouble for us, for you, and what if you’ve failed it? Consider the message as if it was given in anger, with disdain. I see the words coming from lips that are curved into a leer.

‘Never underestimate your opponent. The man of dirt learned his lesson well. His battle is won, and all is well. Friends and family are all that matter now.’”

Mike considered the words. “You’re saying that I didn’t learn my lesson well, that all is not well, that friends and family are not all that matter. I’ve missed the boat, so to speak.”

“Partly, Sire. These messages are never simple. I would offer a slightly different interpretation. I want to believe that the source of these visions has not given up on us, will never give up on us. The words might be said with disdain, but I believe there’s still a message here. I believe the first and last sentences have dual meaning. They add to the disdain, but they might also contain a message.”

Mike mumbled the words to himself. “Never underestimate your opponent. Friends and family are all that matter now.” He looked inside himself, then he looked at Tarn. “I must not underestimate my enemy, and friends and family do matter.”

“Put another way, Sire, you have underestimated your opponent, and your friends and family need to be your focus. They’re in trouble. You have a location.”

“My friends and family are here, Tarn.”

“Not all of them, Sire.”

Mike’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right, Lieutenant. They’re on Earth.” He turned to Ellie. “Could we have gotten so focused on the senate that we forgot about the Chessori?”

She looked at him in horror. So, too, did Krys.

Mike turned away from them and paced, a grim expression on his face. He turned suddenly to Tarn. “How much time do we have? Does one follow the other?”

Tarn spread his arms wide. “I don’t know, Sire. I’m guessing at all this just as much as you are.”

“It’s Mike, darn it, and your guesses are a heck of a lot better than mine. What do you think?”

Tarn considered the words again and shook his head. “Do they mean it’s already too late, or do they mean there’s still time? It’s a message of instruction, but the instructions could be taken either way. I don’t know, Mike. I’m not sure it matters.”

Mike stared at him. “How can it not matter?”

Tarn’s eyes shifted from Mike to Ellie. “Because of another vision, Your Majesties.”

Krys sucked in a breath, then shrieked. “Your Majesties?” She stared at Tarn, then whirled to face Ellie. “You married your knight in shining armor, Mother?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Ellie went to Krys and gathered her in her arms. “Did you expect anything less, my daughter? I wanted both of us to tell you, but your vision intervened. I’m sorry.”

“I’m so happy for you, both of you,” she said, turning to include Mike. “I wish I could have been there.”

“Well, it was quite the private affair,” Mike said with a tight smile. “The vision, Tarn?”

Tarn deferred to Krys, but she didn’t have all the pieces. “What about the hands?” she asked him, thinking of Buskin’s vision.

“They’re his,” he said, brooking no argument.

She nodded and turned back to Mike. “I had a vision of Admiral Buskin several months ago. Do you know him?”

“I know of him. We haven’t met.”

“You know he’s gathered a number of ships to himself?” Mike nodded grimly, and she continued. “In my vision of him, I was looking through his eyes. He was in the net, and he could see all around himself. Behind him, a blue and white planet with a single moon was receding. In front of him, what seemed like a thousand ships were coming his way. Tarn says they were Chessori ships because of their color and drive signatures.” Mike nodded again.

“With the vision came the following words for Admiral Buskin:

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

Silence filled the room as Ellie and Mike considered the words.

“Have we failed?” Elle asked.

“Have I failed?” Mike countered. He turned to Tarn. “Is it already too late?”

“Krys did not sense imminence with Buskin’s vision. I believe there is time yet. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner. We could have gotten him started months ago.”

“Started on what?”

“He’s hiding out while he trains Great Cats to fly and fight his ships. It doesn’t matter where he hides. He’ll go wherever you send him. Why not let him do his waiting near Earth? He has a lot of ships, probably more than you have here.”

Mike smacked a fist into an open hand. “Get him in here.”

“Uh, Sire, Lieutenants don’t order Fleet Admirals around. Truth be told, I was just an ensign when all this started.”

Mike reconsidered his demand, then could only smile. A few minutes delay wouldn’t matter. He went over and put an arm around Tarn’s shoulders. “You might have just been an ensign, but I was a civilian. Rank isn’t the determining factor around here. Duty and ability are all I care about. You were right a little while ago when you pulled me aside. You said things were going to start hopping, and you were right then, too. I get the impression you’re right a lot of the time. What’s your official position in all of this?”

“I’m Krys’ aide, assigned by Admiral Chandrajuski.”

“Hmm. She’s a Knight now, and I’m First Knight, so she’s part of my team. That means you are, too. I only accept volunteers. Will you volunteer?”

“Of course, Sire.”

“Okay. We need a meeting, and I don’t know where anyone is. Can you round up Buskin, Trexler, and Jeffers for me, and do it in my name? Say one hour from now?”

Ellie took charge. “Make it two hours, Michael. We have some other business to attend to in the meantime.” She turned to Krys. “You can help him if you’d like.”

Krys smiled weakly. “I recognize a dismissal when I hear one.” She went to Ellie and kissed her on the cheek. “All this aside, I’m happy for you and your First Knight, Mother.”

Ellie kissed her back, on the mouth. “And I’m grateful. What you two have given us today might make the difference between success and failure. You’ve done well, and so has your man. Just don’t stop calling me Mother. Return here when you’ve finished setting up the meeting.”

Krys and Tarn left hand in hand, a Knight and a Friend of the Royal Family.

Ellie stood for a while in thought after the door slid shut behind them, then turned to Mike. “You really want him on your staff?”

“I do. Look at what he just did, and it’s not the first time. Krys has given us the visions, but he’s the one who’s figured them out. If his interpretations are right, he’s given us critical keys to defeating the Rebels, and he might just have saved a whole planet, my planet.”

“Your home, Michael.”

“No, my home is here with you, but it’s my homeland.” He smiled. “Did you see how he pulled me off to the side?”

“No. When?”

“You and Krys were being mother and daughter. He doesn’t take no for an answer, Ellie. In his own mind he’s an ensign, an officer of the lowest possible rank. Despite that, he made a decision he knew was right, and he acted upon it despite the fact that I’m First Knight. And he didn’t just ask for information, he demanded it. He reminds me a lot of Val.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s the Guide.”

“From your story about the leaf people?”

“The very same, only we had it wrong, all of us. Krys discovered that he wasn’t her guide, he was our guide. His purpose is to guide whomever the vision is about. He’s guided Chandrajuski, Korban, Seeton and Veswicki, Buskin, and now you and me.” She kissed him hard. “And now you’re leaving me again.”

“I’m afraid so. I must.”

“When?”

“Soon. We’ll know better after the meeting. I don’t want to rush off with a bad plan. Korban needs help, Seeton is counting on our help, the sectors and districts need us out there in the worst way, and we haven’t figured out how you’re going to deal with the senate. I wish Chandrajuski was here.”

“He’ll be back any day.”

“We’ll wait if we can. Let’s see what the others think. Trexler is going to go ballistic.”

“Does he have time to go with you? Can he afford to be away?”

“Can you imagine him not going?”

“I don’t know. He’s a big picture kind of guy. He’ll go where he’s most needed. I like him, and I’ll miss him if he goes. As usual, I’ll be here alone.”

“You’ll have Otis, and you really must get to know Josh. You’ll like him.”

“We’ll see. I might make some plans of my own.”

“Traveling plans?”

“Maybe. We’ll see how the meeting goes, then I’ll decide.”

He took her in his arms. “But you won’t decide on your own, will you.”

“No, my love. I’ve learned to listen to my counselors. And don’t worry. I have almost 600 Protectors to keep an eye on me.”

“I’d be happier if it was a thousand, ten thousand.”

She snuggled into his chest. “I’m getting low on Knights Pins, and I won’t have the means to add to my supply until we’re back on Triton.”

“Maybe you should just start giving out one Pin. Val and Reba would be happy to part with one, or maybe both of them if that’s what you need. The Pins are helpful, but they’re both strong enough to accomplish things without them.”

“We’ll see, but I won’t send a Knight out without at least one.”

“They’re not Knights because of the Pins, My Lady.”

She smiled. “You speak true, First Knight. I’ve chosen my Knights well, and I’m pleased with each of them, though I fear for them, as well.”

* * * * *

When Tarn and Krys returned, Ellie was ready. She gave each of them a hug, then put both hands on Tarn’s shoulders. “Do you have your locket, Tarn?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“I’d like it back please.”

Tarn stared at her, not understanding. Krys’ hands went to her mouth, and tears started cascading down her cheeks. She knew what this was all about.

Ellie repeated her request. “I’d like it back, Tarn.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

She took the locket, and it disappeared into one of her pockets. “You have not disappointed me, Tarn Lukes. Quite the opposite. You are the Guide, you have answered the call, and you have acted bravely and rightly on my behalf. The time has come to Name you for who you are. Will you kneel before your Queen?”

“Your Majesty! What if I’m wrong?”

“To be Named a Knight is a call to greater sacrifice in my name, as you know. When a Knight errs, and they do, he acts to correct the error. It’s a difficult thing for some, and for them it’s part of the sacrifice I demand. You have it within you to do so, I know you do, Tarn, and I’m counting on you to be true. The Empire is counting on you to be true. Now will you kneel and swear fealty to your Queen?”

Tarn didn’t need any help, but Krys went to his side and helped him down anyway. She planted a very wet kiss on his cheek as tears continued cascading down her own.

“Tarn Lukes,” Ellie intoned as she placed her hands on his head, “by your actions you have proven your value to me and your Empire. Krys’ visions may be the stuff of legend, but your interpretations of them have given clear direction to admirals, Knights, and your Queen. Entire strategies are now based on your interpretations of these visions, and I believe your interpretations are true. The Empire will be forever in your debt. Do you swear continued fealty to my crown?”

“I do, Your Majesty.”

“Stand, please.” She turned to Krys. “I’m running a little low on Pins. Are you willing to part with one of yours for a while?”

Krys lifted shaking hands to a Pin on her collar, but she couldn’t release it. Mike stepped up to help, then placed it in her hand. She passed the Pin to Ellie with trembling lips. Ellie placed the Pin in Tarn’s hand and closed both of her own hands over his. She closed her eyes for a time, then opened them and released Tarn’s hands.

“Open the Pin, Tarn.”

He passed his hand over the Pin, which snapped open to reveal her countenance. She closed the Pin and attached it to his collar, saying, “With this token, I knight thee, Sir Tarn, Knight of the Realm. Your word is my command on all worlds of the Empire.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then he was smothered in Krys’ kisses.

* * * * *

Chandrajuski returned, and they had their meeting. Mike would go to Earth ahead of Buskin to get things started. Trexler, as much as he felt compelled to go, could not. Chandrajuski had decided he’d waited as long as he could for word from Admiral Korban on Orion III. If he was going to take a stand there, it was time to get moving, and Trexler was his senior Terran admiral. If the Chessori were encountered, Trexler had to be there.

Chandrajuski’s gaze moved to Buskin. “We cannot risk losing Earth under any circumstances. Your fleet is probably larger than my own. I hope it is enough, because my ships are fully allocated to the coming battles.”

“Timing is everything, sir. I’ll face a thousand fully-manned Chessori ships. We’re talking at least two-to-one odds here, and at present I only have a very limited number of Great Cats to go up against them.”

Trexler spoke. “You need reserves. So do we. If the reserves are fast ships, they can remain here to protect Parsons’ World, and they can be called quickly to reinforce whoever needs them.”

Chandrajuski nodded and turned back to Buskin. “You need someone to show you the ropes after you get to Earth, and Mike can’t stay long.” He turned to Trexler. “Should we take someone from here, or should we recruit someone there?”

“Ray has already agreed to give me two admirals,” Buskin interrupted. “I’d prefer them already trained.”

M’Coda had joined the meeting along with Trexler. They both looked at each other and said at the same time, “Godfries.”

“Who’s he?” Mike asked.

“The best admiral I have,” Trexler replied without hesitation. “He’s needed here, but now he’s needed there even more. Earth deserves the best we have. He won’t have fast ships, and the cat’s performance will probably not be up to ours when the scree is factored in. He’ll be operating at a significant deficit.” He turned to M’Coda. “Will you consider staying with him to help develop tactics?”

“If necessary. I don’t think it is. He’s pretty sharp.” He turned to face Buskin. “Do you need me there, sir?”

“I’d like to have you, but I think you’re needed here. I have more admirals than I know what to do with. They fled their sectors with their ships, and among them are some excellent, creative leaders. We’ll manage. Our tactics are going to be a lot different than your own.”

“You’ll need to keep us informed,” M’Coda advised. “The day may come when your forces are called to assist us.”

“And you might be coming to my assistance. I don’t want to face a thousand Chessori by myself.”

“Let’s get Godfries in here,” Mike decided. “He needs to know the whole plan.”

While they waited, Ellie broached another subject. She looked to Otis. “Krys is going back out, and I want to add to her Protection. You might not have heard, but she suffers physical injury from the scree. Jake is already at work creating a new Rider for her. The Rider will, I hope, help with any injuries she sustains. She has a good crew, but she only has three Great Cats for protection. Can you spare a few more?”

“I have 600 Protectors who are idle at the moment. How about two teams of Terrans and cats?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Otis. Thank you. Hmm, I’m not sure if her ship can carry that many people.”

Trexler leaned forward, his hand thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “I haven’t met her, and I’m vague on what her mission is, but I know your Knights deal with matters of great import to the Empire. Are there more Chessori in her future? Would she benefit from a Terran crew?”

“She already has a crew, a good crew, but they’re not immune. It’s an excellent suggestion, Ray, if we can find room for them.”

“If she needs a bigger ship, we get her a bigger ship.”

“We should include a pilot,” Mike said.

Trexler frowned. “We’re already severely understaffed. Let’s assign Godfries to Earth, I’ll come up with a pilot for Krys, and Godfries and Buskin can train as many more admirals as they need from recruits on Earth. Will that work?”

Buskin was tight-lipped, but he nodded his head. Mike coughed into his fist. “Uh, I think you might want to consult Krys and her captain on this before you assign anyone.”

Trexler smiled. “We will. They’re a small, tight group, and they’ll have to get along with each other.”

“I will Test each of them when you’ve made your final selections,” Ellie added.

Admiral Stuart Godfries arrived and was introduced. “I have a new assignment for you, Stu. You’re going home,” Trexler said gravely. He explained the full situation. When he was done, Godfries leaned back in his seat. Silence prevailed for a time, a long time, as he considered the new assignment. When Godfries lifted his gaze back to the group, he looked first to Buskin, then to Mike, and finally to Trexler.

When he spoke, it was softly. “Ray, you’re thinking too small.”

“I’m not infallible. That’s why I brought you.”

“We’ve talked about how the nations on Earth need something to pull them together before they self-destruct with the knowledge of extraterrestrials. This is the perfect opportunity. I’ll be sitting on literally thousands of potential men and women to man our ships.”

His gaze shifted to Buskin. “If your training facilities are up to it, and the simulations aboard ships are excellent training grounds, we can train our own guys, and they’ll all be immune. We might even be able to ship some back here. In time, we won’t need Parsons’ World for training anymore.”

“Where will you get all the recruits?” Mike asked. “We’re trying to keep knowledge of the Empire a secret.”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s going to stay a secret, not if keeping it a secret means the extinction of our species. We’re better than that. I’m thinking we might bring entire squadrons of fighter pilots on board.”

“You’ll upset the balance of power.”

“Maybe, but what if we rotate recruiting among all the major powers. We give up a squadron, then another country does the same, then another one, and so on. When we’ve gone the circuit, we’ll start over. Everyone will be sucked down at the same time.”

“You won’t keep that a secret.”

“Not for long. We’ll work up to it as quickly as the politicians can get their parts done. In the meantime, I can work some personal contacts.”

He stared around the table. No one rebutted his plan, and he turned back to Mike. “Parsons’ World and Shipyard are converting our ships to fast ships, but it’s a slow process. What’s slowing it down? Production or installation?”

Jons answered. “Installation. Mainly, the guns. They require a lot of cutting and fitting, and these are all special materials that require experienced craftsmen.”

Godfries turned to Buskin. “Do we need the guns, sir?”

“Hmm. Stronger weapons would be nice, but fast ships alone would make a huge difference. We could get by with just installing new AI’s. If we can upgrade the shields while we’re at it, so much the better. The guns could come later.”

“The new AI’s are programmed for the upgraded guns and shields,” Jons said. “I’ll have to find out if we can adjust them without starting over from scratch. I think it can be done.”

“Mike,” Godfries said, “we can do the installations on Earth. We have a tremendous pool of manpower. Just send us a few trainers and all the parts.”

Mike looked to Admiral Jons who shrugged his shoulders. “This is manufacturing stuff, and Serge’s guys are doing all of it. They’re flat out at the moment making the modifications to the ships that are already here. I’ll have to check with Serge and his managers. It will mean a reduction in current output. I don’t know how much.”

“But in the end, it could mean an increase in output, right?” Mike asked.

“Yes, Sire, if we live that long.”

Mike’s lips pursed. Managing resources was always a balancing act, but mismanagement of this one could have dire consequences.

“Stu, you can’t hide all these ships on the ground,” Trexler said in exasperation.

“Not right away, we can’t.” He looked to Buskin. “The mechanics of the situation demand these ships be somewhere within the inner system.”

“Correct. It would be nice if we could station them a quick jump away through hyperspace, just keep a few observers in the system, but if we jump in after the Chessori, it would be a stern chase. We might never catch up.”

“Not without fast ships, and even then we want to hold that secret in reserve until it’s needed. We have to hide out on or near Earth. I suppose Mars might work, but we want to be hidden from the Chessori as much as from the people on Earth.” He looked askance at Mike and waited for his reaction.

Mike thought for a moment, then his eyebrows rose and a smile lit his face. He nodded his head, and Godfries continued. “We hide in the ocean.”

Buskin straightened. “No way!”

“It can’t be done?”

Buskin turned away, a look of intense dismay on his face. “It can for the smaller ships. I’ll have to check to see if it would work for frigates and cruisers. That’s not the issue. These ships will be crewed by Empire crews as well as your own. Speaking just for myself, I’ve spent most of my career in the emptiness of space. The thought of all that water around me makes me ill.”

“Do the crews have to know?”

“They’ll know,” he said, nodding his head. “It would be a terrible test for them. I don’t know if I can hold them together under those circumstances.” He considered the idea, and his shoulders shuddered. “I’ll give it a try. I make no guarantees.”

“We have some pretty sophisticated listening devices spread around our oceans, Stu,” Trexler said. “So do other nations. You’ll be discovered.”

“Time, Ray. I’m just buying time until we no longer need to hide. And we really want to keep the element of surprise if we’re attacked. I’d love for any approaching Chessori fleets to think they’re approaching an undefended planet. How about you, sir?” he asked Buskin.

“To have such an advantage would almost be worth living in the sea for a while.”

“The ship modifications have to be done on the surface,” Jons stated. “The AI has to be completely deactivated, then a new one installed and exhaustively tested before it’s signed off as battle ready.”

Godfries closed his eyes for a moment. “The small ships are not a problem, we can house them somewhere. Frigates and cruisers are a problem.”

Mike spoke up. “I’m an engineer. I think you can hide them in natural formations like the Grand Canyon. Nets could be constructed that would stretch from one side of the canyon to the other, and the nets could incorporate whatever wiring is needed to fool satellites. It would cause a lot of inconvenience, but it could be done.”

“Mountain passes might work, too,” Godfries added.

“Most of them have major roads through them.”

“Hmm. We might have to engineer a landslide or two.”

“You’re talking major inconvenience to the populations,” Mike said.

“Better inconvenienced than dead, Sire.”

“Are you the one to make all this happen?” Mike asked.

“I am if Admiral Buskin will have me.” Buskin nodded his head solemnly in acceptance, and Godfries turned to Trexler. “You’re our commander, sir. I’ll commit to you. Just know that this is just a plan, the broad outlines of a plan, and parts of it aren’t going to work out.”

“The weakest link is politics. You’ll have to go to Earth with Mike. You two can get things started, but you’ll have to continue that battle without him, and it will be a battle that cannot be neglected. You can’t run roughshod over them, Stu.”

“I won’t. I’ve carried the flag before, and I’ll continue to carry it.”

“You’ll carry the flags of many nations on this one.”

“Understood, sir.”

Chapter Seventeen

Mike asked Serge Parsons for an informal meeting. He had some ideas to run by Serge, but he didn’t want the meeting to be official – his thoughts would likely bring ridicule. He never forgot that he was from an emerging world and essentially ignorant of the science and engineering possibilities of the Empire.

The two of them met at a favorite spaceport pub of Serge’s. Mike had no money, but that didn’t bother Serge in the slightest. They sat at a booth in a back corner, far removed from the festivities surrounding the bar area, and Serge ordered drinks for both of them.

Mike studied the clientele. “Pretty boisterous lot,” he commented.

“Actually, with me here, they’ve toned it down a bit. I doubt if they know who you are.”

“Just as well. I’m not even sure who I am any more. How much do you know about me?”

Serge studied Mike for a time before answering. “Not much. Considering the fact that you’re First Knight, my lack of knowledge is surprising.”

“That’s part of what this meeting is about, Serge. I’d like to run a couple of ideas by you, but they’re likely to make you laugh.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You know that I come from an emerging world and that all this is pretty new to me. Your technology is light years ahead of mine, but I’d like to talk to you about technology in spite of that.”

Serge sat back. “Ask away. You told me part of your story the first time we met, and I like your style. If you ever fall out of favor with the Queen, you should look me up.”

“Be careful what you offer, Serge. It could happen a lot sooner than you think.”

Serge smiled. “Not likely. I’ve seen how the Queen is around you. Let me tell you, she was not a happy person before your return. Now, it’s like she’s whole again. I don’t think you’re going anywhere soon. And quite frankly, I hope it works out for you two. You’re both remarkable, to say the least. It’s fun to see you together.”

“Thanks, Serge. Once this rebellion gets settled, I’m going to find myself in a much more complex environment, but I’m not going to worry about that for the moment.”

“It will be much, much more complex. Any idea what my position in it will be? Are you two going to put me out of business?”

“I’m no lawyer, Serge, and I don’t doubt that there are lots of good laws on the books that demand we do put you out of business, but we’re not that way. I have a long memory, and so does Ellie. We won’t forget what you’ve done for us.”

“You might not, but the next First Knight might not feel the same way. Or the next Queen for that matter.”

“Hopefully, that’s a long way off. Besides, you said yourself that you don’t want or need legitimacy. Maybe that’s the perfect position for you. I don’t doubt for a minute that you’ll keep us on our toes, and we’ll keep you on yours. Isn’t that the true challenge you crave?”

Serge smiled. “I guess it is.”

Mike looked him hard in the eyes. “I suggest you look at this time that we’re together in the same way that Ellie looks at a Testing. She never tells what she learned. Never. When we part some day in the future, as friends I hope, whatever has gone on will stay between us, and only us. You’ll have a clean slate. What you do afterwards . . . well, be as careful as you’ve always been.”

Serge relaxed into his seat. “I like you, First Knight, and I like your methods. I can live with that. It’s never quite so simple, but I can live with it. Now, what technology do you want to talk about?”

Mike squirmed a little. “It’s probably ridiculous. I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to fight the Rebels. We’re far outnumbered at the moment, but squadron against squadron, which is what it’s going to come down to, we’re pretty evenly matched. Those are lousy odds. I’d like to improve on them.”

“So would a lot of others, myself included. What did you have in mind?”

“Several things. Your guys on Shipyard are pretty bright. Is it possible to engineer a computer virus that we could send into their ships to disable them?”

Serge shook his head. “I’ve been running from them all my life, and I already tried that. Didn’t work.”

“Okay,” Mike said, a little disappointed. “I’ve also been thinking about shields. Our laser disintegrators can’t get through them until they’re weakened or destroyed, but we can talk over the communications systems when they open up a channel. Some kind of energy is getting through the shields.”

“It is. The shields are tuned to the frequencies of the lasers.”

“Well, what if we changed the frequency of the lasers?”

Serge sat back in thought. This idea did not merit instant dismissal. After a time, he said, “I’m not a scientist, Mike, but I think the lasers are tuned to the best frequency to pack the biggest punch. I doubt if a different frequency would work as well.”

“If we could get through the shields easier, we might be satisfied with less of a punch.”

Serge just stared at him. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“Okay. Next: I don’t have a clue how shields work, but in my mind I imagine some sort of energy barrier that flows from one side of the shield to the other, sort of like the way magnets have a curved field around themselves. Is it possible to generate a beam of some kind that would disrupt the pattern? If we could make a hole in the shield, we’d be in.”

Serge continued staring at him, but his thoughts were not on Mike. They were on the mechanics of shields and lasers. After a time, Mike realized that Serge’s gaze was on him again. “Where do you get these ideas?” he asked.

Mike shrugged. “I’m just an outsider looking in, Serge. I’m probably seeing things from a fresh viewpoint, that’s all. Chances are good that these ideas have been researched by others, possibly many times.”

“It’s also possible that they have not. Our armaments haven’t changed in generations. We’ve sort of assumed they’re the best they can be. My guys have made some improvements in range and power, but they tell me they’ve taken it as far as they can. Now you’ve got me wondering.”

“And that’s all I’m doing –  wondering,” Mike said. “I don’t have the means to pursue these ideas.”

“You might not, but I do. And I will,” Serge answered. “They may come to naught, but I’m going to find out.”

Mike grinned. “That’s more than I had hoped for.”

“Got any more ideas?”

“Not about lasers and shields. But I do have a proposition for you, and maybe a business deal.”

“You know how I operate. What’s in it for me?”

“You tell me. I don’t have access to funds right now, but eventually I will. Your guys on Shipyard design ships, right?”

“Sometimes. We spend most of our efforts on modifications.”

“Then hear me well, Serge. This is important.” He stared hard into Serge’s eyes, knowing that he was about to reveal an Imperial Secret to an individual most of the Empire considered a crook. “You understand that no one can stand against the scree?”

“That’s the rumor.”

“It’s true. Every single creature we know of that’s come under the influence of the scree has been instantly incapacitated, and I mean instantly. Here’s the key: the Chessori are supporting the Rebels at the moment, but If the Rebels win, what’s to prevent the Chessori from turning the scree on the Rebels themselves?”

Serge’s gaze narrowed as he considered the implications, and Mike added a little more to the story. “We have a small group of Chessori traders that are working with us. They tell us that these Chessori we’re fighting are not representative of all Chessori. They believe we’re up against a group of rogue Chessori who are intent on taking over the Empire. With an unchecked scree, they might well succeed. How would you like to be their slave, Serge?”

Serge’s whole world changed in that instant. His body shuddered as a chill ran down his spine. Mike stayed silent while Serge came to grips with this new reality. When he returned his focus to Mike, he breathed, “We have to do something about this. We have to get the word out to everyone.”

“It’s too late, Serge. The Chessori have infiltrated the fleets, and they’ve infiltrated government at the highest levels. We can’t invite them to leave – we have to force them to leave.”

“Is that possible?”

“Maybe. Actually, absolutely yes, but resources are an issue.”

“You have my attention, First Knight. Name your price. I will not be anyone’s slave, nor will my people.”

“I’m immune to the scree, Serge.”

“You’re joking, First Knight. You just said no one is immune.”

“It’s one of our most closely held secrets. And I’m not the only one. Everyone from my planet is immune. We are the only known beings in the Empire that are immune. That makes us the only ones in the Empire who can fight the Chessori.”

Serge stared at him. Mike gave him all the time he needed. When Serge next spoke, he said, “Do your people even have space travel?”

“Not yet. Just a few rockets with chemical boosters that barely make it into space. Why do you think we’re doing all this training here?”

“We’re training people from an emerging world?” Serge said in horror.

“We are, and I’m told they’re giving their instructors a real run for their money. We’re a creative people, Serge, and we’re serious warriors. But my world is essentially defenseless right now. Worse, we’re pretty certain that the Chessori know about our immunity to their scree, and they know where we are.”

Serge’s eyes narrowed, and this time he remained silent. He understood.

“We need to defend ourselves, and the Empire can’t do it for us at the moment.”

“Neither can I. Your best bet is probably to keep doing what you’ve been doing, restoring the Empire and keeping your heads down. Someday the Empire will have enough ships to protect your home world.”

“You’re jumping to the same conclusion as everyone else here. We’re referred to as an emerging world, which basically means we’re treated as children, not yet developed enough to enter the Empire. Our world is not a resource to the Empire, even if our people are. There’s nothing we can do but hope to be saved by the Empire.”

“Right. Just keep your heads down until the Queen gets her act together.”

“We can’t keep our heads down if we’re fighting the Chessori, Serge, and we’ll be fighting them hard. It won’t take them long to figure out who they’re fighting, and when they do they’re going to retaliate.”

“What can be done?”

“Maybe nothing, and maybe a lot. My people are, if nothing else, survivors. I’m asking you to help us help ourselves.”

“How?”

“Front us some engineering and manufacturing costs. If you do, and if we survive, I might be able to repay you some day, either with Empire funds or with funds of our own.”

“What do you want us to build?”

“I want to build ship modification centers on Earth, and maybe do some basic manufacturing. We have a bunch of squadrons that you don’t know about. None of them are modified yet, and the process takes too long for them to wait in line here to get the work done. We’re sending them to Earth immediately in case the Chessori attack. I want to modify them there. While modifications are going on, we’ll be training local recruits, each of them immune to the scree. I want you to send people that can train my people to do the modifications, and as soon as you can, I want to expand that program to include basic manufacturing. We can do our part, Serge. We’re fast learners. We just need someone to show us how to do it.”

“I can understand modifications plants, but what do you need basic manufacturing facilities for? You’re not going to build ships from scratch, and you won’t be able to build AI’s, not for quite a while. We’ll have to build them here and send them to you.”

“Well, there’s more to it. I don’t want to build big ships – we have access to a lot of them already. I want to build a new type of ship, Serge.”

Serge sat back. “You mean you want to start with a clean sheet of paper and design something completely new? We’re in the middle of a war, First Knight.”

“Trust me, I know,” Mike said drily. “I’m not talking about cruisers here, Serge. I want to build little space ships that are as small as you can make them, and I want a lot of them. They’d be all engine, shields, and guns, nothing more. Just room for a minimal crew, say three or four guys. And they wouldn’t need to stay in space for long periods of time, just a week or two. They could be carried in the bellies of larger ships if they have to go very far.”

Serge pondered Mike’s idea. “They’d need to be fast ships.”

“They would, but they don’t need to travel between the stars. In fact, it would be better if they couldn’t. The guys who fly them will be from my world, and some of them will be out for adventure. I don’t want them disappearing off on some personal jaunt across the galaxy.”

“Fast ships can go anywhere.”

“Not if they don’t have adequate life support.”

“Hmm. I see what you mean. That could help keep them small, too.” Serge considered the idea, and his eyes lit up. “Being small, they’d be easy to build and hard to hit.”

“Precisely. But they need to pack a heavy gun or two. I want them able to take on capital ships. I don’t want more fighters – they’re just designed to fight smaller ships. I want something that can take on a big ship. They’ll need guns equivalent to what we have on our cruisers. Keep everything as simple as you can –  my people will be maintaining them, and if at all possible, building them. The first ships might have to come from Shipyard, but wherever they’re built, you’ll probably have to build a new plant. Why not just build it from scratch on my home planet? Someday we’ll pay you for each ship that you build, and we’ll pay you a royalty or something for each ship that we build with your plans.”

“You know, we’ve never had to fight on this scale before. What you describe makes a lot of sense, especially if we have to take on the Chessori.”

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

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

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

“A thousand? What good is a thousand?”

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

“One world?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Serge nodded, his lips pursed into a thin line.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Through channels! That could take months.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Eighteen

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

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

“Hello, my love,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

“Maelia. She says hello.”

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

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

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

“I do, but I’m asking you.”

“We boarded three days ago.”

“I vaguely remember something about going to Earth.”

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

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

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

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

“All here.”

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

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

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

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

“Let me change first.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think so. I’m Krys.”

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

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

“Just Krys,” she said with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re from Earth,” she said.

“I am. And you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your line of work?”

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

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

“Some.”

“Some? Is that all you can say?”

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

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

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

“So you’ve experienced the scree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terran?”

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

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

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

“You’re a Protector, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

She had him remove his boots and stand on two separate plates of a resilient material. She thought at first that his feet would be too big, it was important that they not extend beyond the plates, but the plates were just big enough. While the plates molded themselves to his feet, she attached and adjusted a complex set of belts. The belts would force him to use his shoulders as he lifted his feet, thereby distributing the force of his efforts up and down his spine.

She touched keys on a pad and said, “Walk, Terry.”

He walked toward Tarn on the far side of the room as if the plates weren’t even there. She touched more keys, then again, but he just kept walking normally. He gave her a questioning look as he started back toward her. She touched the keys again, and this time a look of satisfaction crossed his face.

“Feels like I’m walking through sand with a backpack on,” he said. “Can you dial it up a little more?”

She dialed it up a lot more, and a smile came to his face. “Better. Do you have anything for my arms and hands?”

“You’re already at 1.3 g’s, Terry. That’s enough for the first time.”

“If you say so, but I don’t want this workout to take all day. Anything for my hands?”

“Later. You get ten minutes with this, that’s all.”

He frowned and continued tromping around the room. “Who are you Protecting?” she called to him.

“At the moment, Sir Mike. He doesn’t need any protection, he’s one of us, but the Queen insisted.”

“He’s one of you?”

“He went through the same training.” He stopped walking for a moment and stared at Krys. “I’d follow him anywhere under any circumstances.”

“I barely know him, but I know what you mean.” Krys put on plates of her own and joined him. “So you’re a Protector and a gunner?”

“I am. I’m rusty on the guns, but I’m getting a little practice each day on this trip.”

“Do you have a family on Earth?”

“I do. My wife, Tanya, and three children.”

Just then a middle-aged, spare man walked in the door dressed in the same baggy pants as Terry, though he wore a longer shirt that was tucked neatly into his workout pants.

“Hi, Terry,” he called, as he found a place near Tarn and settled into some stretches of his own.

“Hi, Tom. This is Krys. The guy beside you is Tarn Lukes.”

Tom nodded to both of them, then stood up and leaned over to touch his toes. He wasn’t anywhere near as limber as Terry, and he struggled to place his hands flat on the floor. Krys stared at him, knowing the exercise was not only crude but potentially damaging. She couldn’t help herself. She went over to him.

“Tom, is it?” she asked.

He pulled a translator pin from his pocket and placed it on his ear, and she repeated herself. “It’s Tom?”

He nodded. “I’m Tom O’Brien. Pleased to meet you, Krys.”

He started back down, and she went down into a crouch with him. “Is that the way you exercise on Earth?”

He turned his head sideways to look into her eyes as he held the stretch. “Actually, I’m a runner. I’m not much into heavy workouts, just stretches before I run. Haven’t found anywhere to run here. I’ve decided to try the corridors today.”

“Can I suggest some alternative stretches?” she asked, worry apparent on her face.

“Afraid the old guy’s going to hurt himself? I’ve been doing it this way for years.”

“Then you probably won’t hurt yourself, but there are better stretches.” She sat on the floor and demonstrated a series of stretches that included the whole body by the time she was done.

He frowned. “That looks complicated. If you have time, I wouldn’t mind starting at the beginning.”

He joined her on the deck, and she started over, slowly. “You’re from Earth, too?” she asked.

“I am.”

“What’s your purpose here?”

“I’m the pilot if we run into Chessori. Not much of a chance on this trip.”

“Have you seen any action?”

“No. Not yet.”

“You’re from an emerging world. It strikes me that we’re asking an awful lot from people who’ve never been in space before. Has the training been difficult?”

“No, but it’s been intense. Flying the ships is fun. Your AI’s are the key. They know the stuff that we don’t, and when we join with them in the net, we just have to think. The AI executes everything at our request, and it takes care of the ship’s systems while it’s doing it. We don’t have to worry about air quality or food or how the toilets flush. The AI takes care of those things, and what it doesn’t take care of, your Empire crewmen take care of. Us Terrans are only needed to fight the Chessori, so we don’t have to worry about anything but flying the ship and shooting the guns. As a squadron commander, I learned all that, then focused on managing the ships of the squadron and coordinating tactics with other squadrons. Tactics are different from what we had on Earth, and the battleground is a little bigger, but fighting is fighting and we’re doing okay with it.”

“Is this ship part of a squadron?”

He smiled. “No.”

“I don’t know what ship we’re on, but this isn’t a cruiser.”

“No. Sadly, it’s not. We’re on a trader.”

“We have squadrons of traders?”

“No, not that I know of. We’re on a quick trip to Earth to pick up Alexis and to drop you and your crew off. Admiral Trexler pulled me from my squadron for this mission. I’ll get another one someday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s a disappointment.”

“It is,” he said, as he copied a leg stretch she was demonstrating. His leg trembled as he leaned across it with his hands wrapped around a foot. He turned his head to her. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We’re not just fighting for the Empire, we’re fighting to protect our home world, and the stakes are the very highest. I’m not after advancement as much as I’m after winning.”

She nodded her head grimly. “We all are. I just hope we’re in time.”

“I’m told our intelligence people believe we have a little time. We’re moving as fast as we possibly can.”

She looked to Tarn with a worried expression. “I hope you’re right, Tom. Intelligence gathering isn’t an exact science.”

“It never is. Don’t worry. A plan’s in place.”

“Are you up to fighting the Chessori?”

A fatherly look came into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, young lady.”

“Have you left family behind?”

He looked away. “My wife died suddenly about a year ago. I have a son who’s out on his own now, starting his own family.” His expression brightened. “I’ll be a grandfather soon.”

She decided his left leg had had enough. She switched to the right leg and he followed. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

“Thank you. She’s in my thoughts constantly.” His gaze latched onto hers. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t affect my performance. I’m quite focused on beating these Chessori.”

Another man came into the room, and she shot a scathing look to Tarn. This was supposed to have been a private work-out. He shrugged as he continued with his stretches.

“Jacobs,” Terry Washburn called out. “You’ve decided to quit being lazy?”

“No, sir. I’ve been with the ship’s medic.”

“Are you ill?” Krys asked.

He shook his head and pulled a translator from his pocket. Krys repeated her question.

“No, Ma’am. Just getting better acquainted with the equipment. I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to get proficient with it.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“I’m a soldier, Ma’am. One of my specialties is medic. I have a ways to go with all this new stuff, but I’m working on it. I’m Sergeant Jacobs,” he said as he, too, started a round of stretches.

“I’m Krys.”

He nodded, and she studied his movements, finding no fault. Washburn was continuing to clomp about the room, and he looked bored. Krys got up and motioned him to return to the equipment rack.

“I just got started, Krys, though this isn’t much of a challenge. Kind of strange the way the weight on the bottom of my legs makes my shoulders work, too. I’m more accustomed to a backpack.”

“All the more reason to not over work muscles that aren’t used to it. Let’s try something else.” She removed the plates and showed him how to buckle himself into a complex harness that attached to his torso, knees, and feet. “Try this for a while.”

He started pumping his legs, and she could see it took no effort. She dialed up the tension and a look of bliss came to his face. “Ah. Much better!” It wasn’t long before a sheen of sweat covered his face. “Better than doing squats with weights, and with this arrangement, I can do one leg at a time,” he said with a grin.

She called Tom over to the equipment and belted him into another contraption. “Start running,” she ordered.

He did, and he was surprised. “Just like the real thing.”

“But it avoids impact damage to your joints, and it works more of your muscles than just running or jogging. That’s why proper stretches are so important. You might find that some of your muscles aren’t used to it. Let me know if that happens.”

“Sure, Krys. Why are you going to Earth, if I might ask?”

“I’m just a passenger. We’re going to Earth and changing ships.”

“We?”

“Me, Tarn, and a few others.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not certain yet. She looked over her shoulder at Tarn. “Do we have a list?”

He nodded. “Chandrajuski is on his way to Orion III. It’s the first battle. He gave us a list of district headquarters. We’ll be focusing on Korban’s districts initially. Our job is to distract the Rebels while Chandrajuski does his best to take back sector headquarters.” He shrugged, then positioned himself for the meditations that Krys always insisted on.

She wanted to join him, but she had to keep an eye on the men. This equipment was all new to them, and she didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

“What do you do if you don’t even know where you’re going?” Tom asked, jogging easily. It looked to her like he could keep it up for hours.

“I’m just a courier.”

“A courier, and you get your very own ship?”

“Well, it’s an important message I carry.”

“You’re just a young woman. Surely there are others.”

“There are, many others. I wish I didn’t have to go. It’s been terrible, but it’s necessary.”

“Oh, so you’ve already done it. What’s so bad about it?”

She looked at him, then at Washburn and Jacobs. “You’re all warriors, but I’m not, and none of my crew is immune to the Chessori mind weapon. We’ve had some close calls, and that’s part of the reason I’m getting a new ship. Our old ship didn’t have the latest upgrades. The new one probably will.”

Washburn, still pumping away with his legs, asked, “How do you deal with the Chessori if you’re not immune?”

“We suffer. How familiar are you with the Great Cats?”

“Pretty familiar.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re a Protector. You know how strong they are. My crew includes three Great Cats. They draw on inner reserves of strength and are able to fight the scree. They keep functioning, but they have limitations. With their skills and some good luck, we’ve managed to take out a few Chessori. We’ve also had a number of occasions when we were severely outnumbered. We had to jump early, dangerously early. So far our luck has held. Our new ship will be more capable, but we’re still going to have to deal with the scree. We don’t have a good solution for it except to avoid it.”

“Sounds to me like you need some Terrans,” Tom said.

“If you’re truly immune to the scree, you’re right. I wish there were more of you. I think you’re all spoken for. Your job is more essential than mine. You’re going to see lots of action, and soon.”

“That’s what they tell us. Sounds like you’ve already seen plenty of it.”

“Too much, and the Chessori influence is spreading, getting worse. Quite frankly, I’m terrified, but I have a wonderful crew, the very best.”

“Why do you have to go out if it’s so frightening?” Washburn asked. “Surely there are others who can carry your message.”

She looked away from him, then down at the floor. The decision she’d made so long ago to accept Chandrajuski’s assignment still surprised her, and in many ways, it disturbed her. She wished she’d had more of a choice in the matter, but no one else could help her mother the way she could.

“A strong sense of duty runs in my family,” she said, looking back up to Washburn. “What I do for the war effort cannot be done by anyone else. What my crew and I have done has had a direct influence on Earth, as well. It would be fair to say that we’re Chandrajuski’s principal intelligence gathering unit.”

She paused to consider what she knew and decided she was not out of line speaking of it in general terms to Protectors. “Some of the intelligence my crew has gathered is of critical importance to Earth’s survival.”

Three more men came into the room, and from their loose pants, short shirts, and bulging muscles, she knew instantly that they, too, were from Earth. They chose spots near Sergeant Jacobs and started warming up. She kept an eye on them, but there wasn’t much she was needed for. One man started doing push-ups, and after a while, he started doing them with one arm. Another started with sit-ups and looked like he could keep going all day long. She brought pads to him and slid one under his knees and one under his head without asking. He winked at her and kept going.

“Critical to Earth’s survival?” Washburn asked.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not free to discuss the details, Terry. How much do you know about the First Knight’s trip to Earth?”

“We’re soldiers. We do what we’re told, and we don’t always get explanations. I, personally, have no idea what the First Knight is up to.”

“You will, in time. The threat to Earth is serious, but it’s still some time in the future, and he’s taking the appropriate steps to deal with it.”

A look of alarm came into Washburn’s eyes. He locked gazes with Tom O’Brien, then moved his gaze to take in the rest of the men. Exercise stopped. The men all focused on her and Washburn.

He looked into her eyes. “We’re from Earth. If there’s a direct threat, you should share what you know with us.”

Her lips pursed. “I know, Terry, but I cannot. I’m sorry.”

“This is the first we’ve ever heard of any direct threat to Earth. How certain are you?”

“Pretty certain. My crew and I will continue gathering information of this nature, you can be certain. Anything of importance pertaining to Earth will be provided immediately to the First Knight and the Queen. That’s why we’re going back out, Terry, despite the risk.”

Washburn looked around at the men again, clearly upset. “You speak of direct threats to Earth, and you’re looking for more intelligence. Are you likely to uncover anything of significance?”

“Probably. The hard part is staying alive long enough to get the information home. I can’t give you details, but I can tell you that the First Knight is on his way to Earth because of what my crew and I have learned. Protect him well. The future of your world hangs in the balance.”

Washburn started removing the harness she’d put him into. She came over to help him, and he stared into her eyes from inches away. “You’re practically a kid. Surely, you’re joking.”

“I’m not. I wish I was. Know that the right people know, and steps are being taken as a consequence of what we’ve learned. We’re going to protect you, but your people and your planet are going to go through some changes in the next few years. Maybe sooner. If they want to survive, they’re going to have to emerge, because they have to help us to help themselves.”

Washburn looked angry. She left him and went to Tarn’s side. She kneeled down and touched his shoulder. He must not have been very far into his meditation, because his eyes opened instantly.

“Have you been listening?” she asked in a low voice.

“I have. You might have said too much.”

She ignored that concern. “Tom’s right. We could use their kind of help.”

“Him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know him very well, but if Mike called on him to go with them, he must be a good pilot. And look at Terry. He already knows how to work with the Great Cats. He’s a Protector.”

“Na. He’s too big a target.”

“He’s already fought the Chessori, and he prevailed. And Jacobs is a medic. We could all use a medic, Tarn.”

“Of course we could, but them? They look pretty rough.”

“I like them.”

“They’re Mike’s guys, Krys. We don’t have time to go back for more. Maybe we can pick some others up on Earth. I hear they’re quick learners.”

“I can’t pull rank on Mike, but I can ask him. These men are already trained. Do you think he’d let them go with us?”

“Even if he did, would it be fair to them? It’s a pretty dangerous task we have ahead of us. At the very least, you should ask them first.”

Four more men chose that moment to enter the room. They settled around Jacobs and started warming up. The room was getting crowded quickly with the ten Terrans. Why were there so many, she wondered? Were there others?

“How many of you are there?” she called to Washburn.

He had finished untangling himself from the equipment and leaned against it with his arms folded across his massive chest, looking at her intently.

“Three teams of three each, all Protectors, and a pilot. We only brought three more Great Cats, but you’ve already got three. Your new ship needs eight gunners, a gunnery control officer, and a pilot.” He looked around the room counting bodies. “Hmm, just the right number, wouldn’t you say, My Lady?”

She stood up, not certain she understood. “You call me My Lady? What are you saying? Do you know me?”

“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.”

“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.”

“Well, this is pretty extreme, twelve against one.”

Krys held up a hand. “Gentlemen, there’s more.” All eyes turned to her, but she focused on O’Brien. “My visions are sometimes accompanied by words. The words are always in the form of a riddle. I received only one word this time.

‘Encircle’

“Encircle? Do I have more ships?” O’Brien asked.

“I don’t believe so.”

“Well, then, I rest my case. I can’t encircle the eight remaining ships by myself.”

“Sir, it’s a riddle,” Tarn said angrily. “Don’t be so ready to discount it. We’ll be on that ship with you, and our lives depend on you doing the right thing. Some visions are warnings, and some carry instructions. This one seems to be the latter. Let’s talk about it.”

“Okay,” O’Brien said, standing up and putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m up against eight ships, and I can’t demonstrate our fast ship capabilities if I can avoid it. We believe our weapons and shields are measurably stronger than those of our opponents, though we’re not certain when it comes to the Chessori military. Let’s say they are. I’m fighting eight enemy ships. How do I encircle them?”

Tarn considered. “Let’s back up to before your shields started failing, before you’ve come under attack. You have a healthy ship, and you cannot avoid engaging the Chessori for some reason. Maybe the solution is to let them encircle you, sir.”

“What! I let them surround me? You must be joking.”

M’Sada’s mandibles started clicking. All eyes turned to him, and he started preening his antennae. “Hmm,” he grumbled. Suddenly the preening stopped. He turned to Krys. “A masterful solution, My Lady!”

“What is it, my friend?”

He turned to Stven, then O’Brien. “The key is that your shields are failing on one side of the ship. Why?”

“Because that’s where they’re hitting me . . .” O’Brien trailed off, then shuddered. “It doesn’t feel right. Let them surround me? It’s against every tactic in the books.”

“Agreed, but consider, sir,” M’Sada demanded. “If you let them encircle you while all your shields are healthy, they would be spreading their fire out among all of your shields, and you could sustain many more hits. All your gunners could select targets with their more powerful weapons, and your chances of success would be improved. We should examine this in the simulator. If our weapons and shields are, indeed, stronger than theirs, it might be a new method of fighting. Admiral Chandrajuski might even be able to use it. Come on! Let’s check it out.”

Led by M’Sada scurrying on his many hands, everyone trooped out of the room except Krys, Stven, Tarn, and Borg.

Krys looked at Stven, bemused. “Not the greatest tempering, Captain.”

“It’s a start, My Lady. They’ll come around. You’ll see.”

Chapter Twenty

Resolve’s first stop was Sembik, one of over one hundred district headquarters in Orion sector. Stven fast-shipped Resolve to within a week of the planet with their beacon off, then reverted to normal speed and activated the beacon with a completely fictitious code. Ground controllers contacted them immediately, wanting to know where they’d come from. Stven questioned their procedures, asking them if they’d been asleep at their screens. An argument ensued, and Stven finally agreed that his beacon transmitter might be weak. They were cleared in.

The visit there was completely uneventful, both coming and going. Krys’ message was given and well received, and they left. Stven and M’Sada congratulated themselves – the change of ship had worked. No one knew who they were.

They visited three more districts with similar results, though Chessori traders followed them from the last two, which meant they could not fast ship out of the system. Krys fretted with the wasted extra weeks, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Their next stop was Krandt. When they came out of hyper a week from the planet, Stven counted six Chessori ships within the system, and George, the AI, informed him that these were Chessori military ships. Stven again claimed a weak transmitter on his beacon and was cleared in. As Resolve neared the planet, he discovered four more Chessori ships at the port, but these were traders, not military ships.

He had no problems logging his arrival with port operations, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Two teams of Protectors left the ship to examine the route they would take to Dgoffs’ headquarters. Escorted by Tarn, Washburn, and Borg, Krys entered the building, all dressed as civilians. Borg’s presence opened doors, and they had no difficulty reaching the admiral. Dgoffs answers to certain questions were acceptable, and without further word, Krys laid one of her Knights pins on his desk.

He stared at the pin with narrowed eyes. He glanced over to Borg, then reached a hand out and picked up the pin. He attempted to open the pin, but he could not. He returned it, saying, “Complete the process if you can.”

Krys turned the pin to face Dgoffs, then passed a hand over it. The pin opened, and Dgoffs stared at the hologram of Ellie.

“You have a Queen, Admiral. I carry a message from her.”

He came out from behind his desk and went to one knee, his lips in a thin line but trembling. “Your presence here honors me, My Lady. I just heard from a visiting Imperial Senator that we have a Queen. What is her wish?”

“She commends your loyalty through, what I am certain, have been difficult times, Admiral. Know that the Queen is in command, and her resources are growing. Her message to you is to hold your district for as long as you possibly can. If holding becomes untenable, you are to retreat with as many forces as you can muster. I’ll give you a rendezvous location, but I beg you to hold. I don’t think it will be overlong.”

He stood up. “The sector governor tried to replace me once already. I sent my replacement packing, and his response has been to send a new district governor. The new governor is not taking no for an answer. I am at the end of my holding game.”

“What about the old district governor?”

“He refused to give up his position, saying he did not accept the authority of the new governor. He was arrested a month ago, along with two Imperial Senators.”

“Senators!”

“Yes, My Lady. One was the visitor who carried the message that we have a Queen. They were both meeting with the governor when they were arrested.”

“They’re still alive?” Tarn asked, a little surprised.

“They are. I spoke with the governor last night. His days are numbered, just as mine are. I’ve already set a plan in place. It includes retreat, and it includes taking him and the two senators with us. Now you tell me there’s a specific place to which I can go. I’m pleased that I will be able to continue working for the Queen, but I’m sorry to say that she has lost this district.”

“How many forces do you command?” Tarn asked.

“Six squadrons, each with a support base.”

“Sir, you say the governor is new,” Tarn said thoughtfully. “How well ensconced is he?”

“I don’t understand your question, young man.”

“We observed a number of Chessori military ships on our way in, and four traders at the port. What’s their purpose here?”

“The military ships came with the governor. The purpose of the traders seems obvious.”

“Are individual Chessori with the governor?”

“I haven’t seen him without several by his side, and there are twenty military types waiting for me to train.”

“You’ve allowed them onto your ships?” Krys asked in alarm.

“No, My Lady. The request has been made a number of times, but I haven’t found any of them up to our standards yet, and I won’t. I don’t know what they’re up to, but I don’t trust them.”

“Hmm,” Tarn mumbled. He stared at Washburn and Borg for a time, then turned away deep in thought.

“I would hold if I could, but I want to deny the new governor access to my squadrons. I’m certain the Queen will put us to good use.”

Krys looked at Tarn’s back with a raised eyebrow. “The Chessori are in league with the Rebels, Admiral. Your distrust is well-placed.”

Tarn turned back to the group. “The district’s first priority is to hold, but our larger purpose here in Orion Sector is to help Korban hold. I wonder if we can create a noticeable distraction here?”

“What did you have in mind, Sire?” Borg asked. Dgoffs blinked at the Great Cat’s use of the title. He had not known that Tarn, too, was a Knight.

“The governor here is fairly new. He’s probably not well-established. I wonder if we could remove him from office and reinstate the real governor? Equally important, I’d like to rescue the two senators. The day is coming when the Queen will need every senator she can get on her side.”

Dgoff’s rubbed his chin. His eyes narrowed when he said, “Their rescue is already in the works, Sire. Leave it to me.”

Borg spoke. “How will you deal with the Chessori?”

“They’re the least of my concerns. They’re weak, almost fragile.”

“Not so, Admiral. They are your enemy, and you have underestimated their capabilities. Your plan will fail.”

Dgoffs stared at the Great Cat with disbelieving eyes.

Borg returned his stare. “You’re not the first, Admiral. Your efforts to hold here are admirable, and with a little help from us, you might be able to stay.”

He turned to Krys. “Your assignment is to spread a message. Mine is to protect you. This is outside the boundaries of the assignment given us, but what Sir Tarn proposes is right, the right thing for the Queen.”

Krys studied the Great Cat for a time, then turned to Dgoffs. “Sit down, Admiral. We have some talking to do.”

* * * * *

The ground operation was planned, then they adjourned to the lounge on Resolve to discuss the space-born part of the operation.

Stven spoke thoughtfully. “We can take out the four traders here at the port, especially if we catch them by surprise. We’ve done it before with smaller numbers, and Resolve is much more capable than our last ship. The six military ships out in the system are a bigger problem. We haven’t gone up against the Chessori military, and we don’t know their capabilities. We can expect more skilled fighters, stronger weapons, and harder shields. It looks to me like they’re just loitering. I think their purpose here is to support the new governor while he gets settled. If we could use all of Resolve’s capabilities, we could deal with them one or two at a time, but we can’t. When we make our move here on the ground, they’re going to band together, then come in to find out what’s happened.”

His head swung toward Dgoffs. “We’ll have to borrow a ship from one of your squadrons.” Looking at Borg, he said, “Your brothers did it once before with a frigate. Resolve and a frigate should be able to do the job.”

Borg shook his head. “There can be no uncertainty when it comes to Lady Krys or Sir Tarn. We will not risk them or Resolve.”

M’Sada’s whiskers had been getting a thorough preening while they talked, but now his hands stopped.

“There is an alternative.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted to him. “Go ahead,” Stven demanded.

“All the Terrans take a cruiser. With nine batteries manned, it will be impregnable. The cats can stay nearby in Resolve, but in a reserve status. Why make them suffer the scree needlessly? Krys and Tarn can board a different cruiser that is prepared to retreat if we fail.”

O’Brien’s face lit up. “You’re right, and I’d love to get back on a cruiser, even if it’s only for one battle.”

Stven’s long neck swayed from side to side as he considered. When he spoke, it was to M’Sada. “It’s a good plan, my friend, but I see a couple of problems. If you were a Chessori, even if you believe the scree will disable both ships, would you take on a cruiser? What would you do with it? It would take days to destroy it, all to no gain. Their purpose here is to guard the governor and his complement of Chessori. They’ll want to land as quickly as possible, hoping to restore them. They would give the cruiser a wide berth, maybe leaving one ship behind using the scree to keep it disabled. We don’t want them reaching the planet with a single ship. Our resources will be out of position if they do.”

“How about using two frigates?” M’Sada countered. “They would do the job.”

Stven turned to Krys. “He’s right, My Lady. It’s a good plan, maybe the best plan. I’m hesitant to see you anywhere but on Resolve. Our ship is capable of jumping away if things go poorly, but it is the only one in the system with that capability. Your place is here.”

“Who will fly the frigates? Tom has to stay with me. The same applies to our Terran Protectors. We have a highly capable ship, fully crewed and ready for battle. I see no reason to break up the crew. Base your plan on that, Captain.”

Stven turned to Dgoffs. “Suppose we’re successful and take them all out. The Chessori have an interstellar communicator. More will come when they find out what’s happened. What then?”

Dgoffs rubbed his chin as he considered. “Maybe they will, and maybe they won’t. It strikes me as unlikely that they’d choose to take a major stand here. We’re just a district, and from what you tell me, they’re going to have their hands full at sector headquarters soon. If Korban loses Orion III, holding Krandt will become untenable, but if he wins, the Rebels won’t care about this district. It would be too difficult to take it back without a political and physical base here on the ground.

“Posturing can be dangerous, but sometimes it works, and this situation is perfect for it. I was planning to leave anyway, so there’s nothing to lose, but there’s everything to gain. After you leave, I’ll keep three squadrons close to the planet for a while. Anyone coming to investigate will think it was my ships and my men that took out the Chessori, and they’ll think twice about taking on three squadrons. If they send a massive force, we’ll abandon the planet and join your other forces wherever they are. If they send just a ship or two, we’ll consider what to do then.”

Tarn cautioned him. “One Chessori ship would be enough. You’d be helpless against it. In time, we might be able to send some Great Cats. That won’t be our call, but I think it’s a price Chandrajuski would be willing to pay to keep the district for the Queen.”

“There could be terrible retribution if this fails,” Krys said, clearly troubled.

Dgoffs nodded. “There could, and we’re counting heavily on you. In a worst case scenario, my squadrons will be prepared to flee. At least the Queen will have a few additional forces, and I’ll spend the two or three days between the ground fighting and the space battle stuffing those ships full of people. Anyone I can’t bring with me can head for the hills.”

He looked solemnly at each of them. “I’d really like to hold this district. I’ll deal with any Rebels here if you’ll deal with the Chessori. I say let’s go for it.”

Stven looked to O’Brien. “Are you up to it, my friend?”

“Yes, sir. So are Major Washburn and his gunners. And what a grand idea: rescue a district, and rescue two senators while we’re at it.”

“The First Knight informed us that some of the Chessori traders might not be our enemy. Is it necessary to take out all the traders here in the port?” Tarn asked.

“The risk of being wrong is too great,” Dgoffs said. “I want my district cleansed of Chessori.”

Stven’s long neck swayed back and forth as he considered. “I share the sentiment, but historically, the Empire has gone to great lengths to prevent retribution against the innocent. I would caution against a change in that policy. We will one day have to take this war to the Chessori, and it would be to our advantage to have allies among them when we do.”

“But we’re just one ship,” Washburn said. “We can’t afford mistakes. I want to be one of those carrying the war to the Chessori. And consider: there is a certain planet out there that is going to play a big part in taking that war to the Chessori. They’re outnumbered by, probably, a million to one. We’re not in a position to be the nice guy. Those traders are armed. My vote is to take them out. If we don’t, our decision could come back to haunt us, and quickly.”

Stven and Washburn stared at each other for a time, then Stven turned his long neck toward Dgoffs. “Do you know the status of these traders, Admiral? Are they traders, or are they additional protection for the new governor?”

“I don’t know, but my staff can take a look at it.”

“Please do so before we make our decision,” Tarn ordered. “We will err on the side of taking them out, but if we determine they’re truly innocent traders, we will consider alternatives. It will be O’Brien’s fight, and the final decision will be his.”

Dgoffs’ staff determined that one of the traders had, indeed, made a delivery, and it would be taking on outbound trade goods during the next few days. It was decided that O’Brien would have to make the call as he saw fit at the time.

Dgoffs prepared his Imperial Marines for their part in the operation, and two standard protection teams consisting of three Great Cats and three Terrans studied the layouts of the buildings they would infiltrate. One team focused on the governor’s mansion while the other focused on rescuing the two Imperial Senators. There were only two Chessori guarding them, but there were a lot of other guards within the prison.

Dgoffs admonished the teams to kill as few of his men as possible. Some were, undoubtedly, Rebels, but most were not. He would take it upon himself to sort them out after the Chessori were dead.

When everyone was ready, Dgoffs requested a meeting with the new governor, a meeting at which he would offer to reconsider and perhaps allow a few Chessori aboard his ships. All Chessori candidates were to attend for interviews.

Since the presence of Great Cats would give away their plan, the three cats assigned to that team stationed themselves near the front entrance of the mansion but out of sight. Dgoffs marched with Washburn and two other team members to the governor’s office, all three Protectors dressed in the uniform of a fleet captain. Twenty Chessori candidates waited outside the office as instructed.

Dgoffs and Washburn entered the governor’s office, leaving the other two team members outside the office ostensibly studying the Chessori recruits as if they were considering them for training. The governor sat at his desk, and one Chessori stood to the side of the room. Dgoffs closed the door and turned to the governor, a blaster in his hand.

“We can do this peacefully, or we can do it the hard way,” he said. The scree sounded immediately, and Dgoffs and the governor fell to the floor. So, too, did the Chessori, killed by Washburn. Firing erupted from the other room, and he immediately stepped from the office to add his blaster to the carnage. All the Chessori fell without a single shot being fired in return, so quickly had the Protectors reacted.

The moment the Great Cats outside felt the scree, two raced into the building while one remained outside. The scree was still sounding when Washburn and the cats met up. They held a quick conference and split up the team. Two cats would clear the upper floors of the building while the Terrans cleared the main floor. The governor was shackled, then Washburn moved out with his team, stunning everyone they encountered.

When they reached the front of the building, the third Great Cat was pinned down by a heavy weapon on the left corner. Washburn directed two of his men to take the Chessori gunners from the rear. He went right to cover the right side of the building. Borg had responsibility for covering the rear as he cleared the upper floors.

Just as Washburn started moving to the right, a squad of Chessori came around the corner and were as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Everyone started shooting. Washburn took out two Chessori, then he was blown backwards by a blaster shot to his chest. Sergeant Jacobs, assigned to take out the big gun, turned back and took out the rest of the Chessori squad, leaving his partner to take care of the big gun.

Jacobs checked around the corner to make sure no more Chessori were coming, then returned to Washburn who was just stirring. Jacobs crouched down beside him, examining the ruined vest that still smoldered beneath Washburn’s uniform. Their eyes met, but no words were needed.

Jacobs couldn’t resist. “It does make you look fat, sir.”

* * * * *

At the port, three Terrans manned Resolve’s four batteries. The moment the scree sounded, O’Brien lifted Resolve to a couple of hundred feet while Stven and M’Sada shrieked horribly. George cut them out as the gunners opened up, and three traders, all powered down, disintegrated in moments. Resolve’s guns traversed to the last trader, but the gunners held their fire.

O’Brien sent out a recorded message from Admiral Dgoffs demanding that the trader stand down and cease with the scree. O’Brien gave them time to decide, and in the end, the trader complied.

At the prison, the team moved in on the building the moment they felt the scree. They raced through the building stunning the writhing forms of soldiers on the floor and quickly reached the heavy door to the cell block. As expected, the door was locked. Two Terrans set detonation cord around the door, stepped back and blew it, then the cats rushed into the long hallway lined with cells. Two Chessori were ready and waiting, but the blast had stunned them and their reactions were slow. That tiny interval was more than the Great Cats needed. The two Chessori fell instantly. With their demise, the scree ended.

Imperial Marines moved in on both ground locations quickly, taking responsibility for sorting out the governor’s men from those loyal to Dgoffs.

At the port, the traders were ordered to clear their ship. When they emerged, they were escorted to a holding station by a team of Great Cats and locked up. The cats returned to the port, leaving one Terran Protector outside the cell block as a guard.

Washburn had been very specific about this guard. He was not to be seen by the Chessori. No Chessori who saw a Terran would be permitted to live.

All six Great Cats boarded the frigate and spent two days familiarizing themselves with the ship while the Chessori military ships out in space maneuvered into an attack group. As the Chessori approached the planet, Washburn came out of the restoration tank, his ribs partially healed, and Krys took his place in the tank for whatever protection it would provide her. Resolve and the frigate held formation as the Chessori approached.

Suddenly, a Chessori face appeared on the communicators of both ships. “I have been denied landing clearance, and you appear to be threatening me,” he said. “I demand unrestricted passage to the surface.”

Borg spoke for both ships. “Chessori are no longer welcome here. Leave.”

“I am only trying to contact my legitimately invited partners on the planet. They are not responding to my calls.”

“Nor will they. They’re dead. Expect the same treatment if you continue inbound.”

The Chessori stared at him for a time. “Impossible. They are not dead.”

“Believe me, Chessori. I can and I will kill any of you that fail to leave immediately.”

“That’s an act of war.”

“Yes, it is.”

The Chessori broke the connection. Soon after, the six ships split up into two groups of three. The maneuver was not unexpected, and Borg set up an intercept with one group while O’Brien headed for the other.

“Remember,” Stven cautioned just before leaving the net, “Borg gets first shot. The cats won’t be as efficient as you, and they’ll benefit from the surprise.”

“Yes, Mother,” O’Brien replied, as he and George adjusted course and speed. “But I’m going to get into position. I don’t want any of these guys getting away.”

“Just survive, my friend, and make it as quick as you can. Some of us will be suffering.”

“Yes, sir.”

The scree started up long before the ships reached firing range. O’Brien was sorely tempted to open up when the Chessori came within the extended range of his modified weapons, but he did not. The Chessori continued closing until Borg’s frigate and O’Brien’s Resolve were surrounded.

Both groups of Chessori opened up at the same time, and Borg responded immediately. Washburn wasn’t far behind. Each Chessori was pre-targeted, and one of them was targeted by two batteries. It’s shields failed quickly, and it disappeared in a flash of light moments later. Resolve’s shields were taking a beating from the other two Chessori, but the Chessori weapons appeared weak, and the shields held.

Resolve and the two remaining Chessori started dancing all over the place in an attempt to avoid taking hits, but they could only maneuver so much without their own gunners losing their targets. Within a minute of the first Chessori dying, the second died. The third Chessori tried to flee, but O’Brien clung to its tail. It lived for only another couple of minutes.

When O’Brien checked on Borg, there were two Chessori left, both of them fleeing. Borg could only follow one. O’Brien checked briefly with George to see if an intercept could be set up on the second, but it was far out of range, and that range was increasing quickly. Any effort to follow it would be wasted. He let it go and headed towards Borg and his target. Both were bouncing all over the sky, and clearly, Borg’s fellow Protectors were having difficulty with their aim while under the scree. Long before he caught up to them, though, Borg got through the Chessori shields, and the enemy ship exploded.

With its demise, the scree ended.

Tarn checked on Krys and found her unconscious within the tank. There was nothing he could do but wait and let the combination of tank and Rider do their thing.

Dgoffs came up on a shuttle and joined Borg aboard the frigate. His own sailors were back in command and horrified at their experience with the scree.

Two days later, another Chessori appeared from hyperspace, and two others joined it the following day, all of them remaining far out on the fringes of the system. Then, they suddenly disappeared, having jumped back into hyperspace. The retreating Chessori continued outbound, headed toward its own jump point.

Dgoffs grinned and clapped his captain on the back. “The battle for Krandt is over, gentlemen,” he announced. “We’ve won this round.”

Tarn visited the two senators while Krys returned to light duty on Resolve. The tank had done all it could, and it was up to her Rider, Maelia, to repair the rest of the damage. Both senators had experienced the scree for the first time, and both were horrified by its implications.

When Tarn displayed his Knight’s credentials, both were delighted to have living proof of the Queen’s survival. Until now, the visiting senator had only had Senator Truax’s word that there was, indeed, a Queen. Tarn encouraged them to continue spreading the word among other senators, and he assured them that the results of the battle for Krandt were not due to chance. The Queen really did have the means to confront the Rebels and their Chessori partners, and she was going to win.

The Chessori traders were marched from their cells and back to their ship where they were released. Not waiting for the rest of their cargo, they just left as quickly as they could, knowing that, for them, the Empire had shown restraint.

Resolve waited until they were gone, then Krys and Tarn said goodbye to Dgoffs, promising him that reinforcements would be sent to help him hold the district as soon as they were available.

As Resolve headed out, Washburn and O’Brien plopped dinner trays down beside Krys and Tarn in the crew mess. Washburn set the ruined vest on the table beside himself, the blackened depression face up. O’Brien stared alternately at the vest and at Krys.

Washburn took a mouthful of food and chewed, his gaze on Krys. “How does it work, My Lady?”

“I don’t know.”

“My guys believe now. You’re going to get some requests.”

“She’s not up to it right now,” Tarn said, brooking no argument.

“When you are, then.”

She nodded. “It doesn’t always work, you know. I can’t just turn it on and off.”

She stared at him for a time, then O’Brien. “Each of the visions I’ve received has been of significant import to the war. If that’s the case here, each of you is destined to fill a meaningful role in whatever is to come.” She focused on Washburn again. “You’re not alive because of anything I did. You’re alive because of something you’re needed for in the future. I don’t know what it is.”

He put his utensils down. “That’s a terrible burden to throw my way.”

“I know, but you are not alone. Others carry the same burden, including me.”

“You are a Knight, My Lady.” He reached for her hand and engulfed it in both of his huge hands. “We’ll stand beside you as long as you’ll have us.”

She nodded. “I know you will. My crew has stood behind me and beside me and in front of me when necessary. I’m nothing without all of you. I never forget that.”

Reba

Chapter Twenty-one

A full training package had been prepared by Admiral Korban’s staff for the arrival of the Terrans, Reba’s Raiders as they had taken to calling themselves, but time was short. Korban estimated he would be replaced as Sector Commander of Orion Sector within the next two or three months. He knew for a fact that the Rebel governor had sent a request for additional support to Struthers. He did not know what form that support would take, but he was certain it would come. Before it arrived, he needed to control the planet and his ships.

Waverly organized Reba’s Raiders into ten groups of 100 men, each group considered sufficient to clear all the Chessori from one squadron. The Raiders refined their tactics under the guidance of Empire Marines using mockups of ships, and troops shuttled to and from firing ranges on the military side of the spaceport for training with live weapons, though weapons training took little time for these special operations troops from Earth.

As soon as the first one hundred completed the training, Val, Reba, and Colonel Waverly led them on a training mission. They boarded Korban’s finest squadron, the only local squadron as yet untouched by the Chessori. There, the Terrans worked closely with the ships’ crew to hone their plan. Many revisions were made, many at the suggestion of the Terrans themselves.

The final plan included stationing seventy Raiders aboard the cruiser and thirty aboard the frigate. The twelve fighters of the squadron would be brought aboard the cruiser and emptied of crew before the Raiders arrived, so no additional resources were required to deal with them. Heavy squadrons, those with an extra frigate, would borrow an additional thirty Raiders to deal with the second frigate.

A trusted staff officer from Korban’s headquarters would accompany each team to each ship. The loyalty of the commanders aboard those ships was not in question – each had been handpicked by Korban himself. The senior Raider and two backups would secure and hold the bridge. Other Raiders would be assigned to Communications, Weapons, and Engineering, while the remainder sought out individual Chessori wherever they were located aboard the ship. Assistance from ships’ personnel would be extremely helpful during this process, but it could not be relied upon.

Korban knew the makeup of his fleets and the theoretical position of each Chessori within it, though no one knew the actual dispositions of the Chessori once they had reported to their assigned ship. Individual captains would undoubtedly have moved them around for various reasons. However, the numbers were known precisely. Cruisers would have, on average, 50 Chessori, and frigates would have 20.

Fundamental to the plan, and discussed at great length by Admiral Korban and Colonel Waverly, was whether the Chessori should be confronted and allowed to surrender. Korban wanted only to cleanse his ships, to exterminate the Chessori, then deal with other crewmember loyalties when time permitted. Val and Reba supported him, insisting that no warning be given the Chessori. Their plan was to kill all Chessori at the same moment aboard all ships in the squadron. If they failed in that effort, the Chessori would warn each other telepathically.

Waverly and his commanders balked at killing without warning. For all they knew, the Chessori would be unarmed. They would not pull the trigger on unarmed men.

In the end, Colonel Waverly prevailed. Since his men would be the ones doing the shooting, he just said no. Val and Reba argued with him in private, but to no avail. He held true to an unwillingness to cold-bloodedly kill unarmed beings.

Reba was proud of him in a way, proud that her group of trained killers held to such high standards. Other than she and Val, none of them, including Admiral Korban, had yet experienced the scree, and simply describing it was not sufficient to convince. They would have to experience it for themselves.

* * * * *

Chandrajuski could wait not longer. He knew that time was running out for Admiral Korban on Orion III, but he had no way of communicating with the sector.

He dispatched ten squadrons to Orion III, none of them fast ships. Since Parsons’ World was so far out beyond the Border, It would take them ten weeks to get there. He waited a month, then set out with six additional squadrons, all of them fast ships that would reach Orion III well before the ten slow squadrons.

Four fast squadrons remained behind to protect Parsons’ World, and more were in the pipeline for completion soon, though there were only enough Terrans to man two of them. They would be held in reserve for the anticipated battle at Aldebaran I.

The Terrans aboard all the squadrons were untested in combat, but they were battle ready and would continue refining their skills aboard their squadrons during the voyage.

Chandrajuski’s six fast squadrons arrived at a rendezvous point one short jump from Orion III. They would wait there until joined by the slow ships. Chandrajuski took one squadron and completed the final jump to the far fringes of Orion III.

He, M’Coda, and Trexler studied the display from the net in the tactical operations center at the heart of the cruiser and discovered seven of Korban’s squadrons within the system. Four held station near the planet, and three were spaced geometrically equidistant within the system, each about one week out from Orion III.

Very unusual positioning, and Chandrajuski knew its purpose instantly. The three outer squadrons were there to intercept and question inbound ships, and the three squadrons near the planet were, most likely, protection demanded by the governor. He had no way of knowing if any of these squadrons remained loyal to Korban.

The nearest squadron headed in their direction as soon as they emerged from hyperspace. To their surprise, the initial query came from a Gamordian.

“Admiral Zygtta here. State your intentions.”

Chandrajuski’s squadron commander handled the call. “We’re here to request help from Admiral Korban. Since the change, several groups of smugglers have banded together, and we’re pretty sure they’re operating in your sector now, too.”

“We’re seeing the same thing. I wish I could help, but smuggling isn’t high on our agenda right now.”

“Why not?”

“We’re in a defensive mode for the moment. Orders from the governor. You’re wasting your time here.”

“Well, we’ve both got our orders. I’m supposed to meet with the governor and Korban. They might not be interested in helping, but I’m required to try.”

The Gamordian considered. “Your squadron will have to remain here. I will send a ship for you alone. It will take you the rest of the way.”

“Surely, you’re joking. We’re all on the same team here.”

“Well, that’s the problem. We might not be. Certain new leaders have a long reach, my friend.”

“You mean Struthers. I’m not getting involved in that mess, and I’m not the only one. There’s a lot of uncertainty out here. How about you?”

“I report to Admiral Korban, and I follow his lead. We’re holding at present.”

“Holding. An interesting choice of words.”

The Gamordian stared at him for a time. “It might have special meaning to some.”

“Are you available for a private meeting?”

“Depends.”

“I’ll see if I can get orders for you. I’m going to tightbeam Admiral Korban. I’d appreciate it if you’d remain clear of the reception window.”

“I will, provided you don’t come in any closer.”

“Time is of the essence. With your permission I’ll continue inbound, but toward you. Why don’t we plan to meet half way?”

Admiral Zygtta considered. “It’s Admiral Korban’s decision, and it will not take long to get a reply. You may continue.”

The tightbeam was set up with Korban. As soon as he came on the line, he was advised to clear everyone else from the room. When he came back on, Chandrajuski stepped into the pickup.

Chandrajuski took one look at Korban and sadness filled his eyes. “You’ve aged, my friend. Are you well?”

A look of relief settled onto Korban’s features. “Good to see you, old friend. I thought you might be the first of the governor’s reinforcements from Struthers.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s very bad. A mutual friend convinced me to hold. I never realized how difficult it would be, and I’m nearing the end of my road. The governor has sent for help. It’ll be here any day.”

“Then it’s time to act.”

“Already begun, my friend. The three squadrons nearest the planet are heading out on a training mission tomorrow. It’s outcome could be telling.”

“What can I do to help?”

“We can’t discuss details over the link. All of my squadrons here are of the right persuasion. They don’t have all the details, but what they know will be sufficient for the moment.”

“Are you certain? I’m inbound towards Zygtta, and a meeting with him might be beneficial to all of us.”

“I am certain, but yes, you should meet.”

“Send him orders, then. I’ll receive him here.”

“No, you’ll have to go to him. Perception is critical right now.”

Chandrajuski stared at him, definitely not happy. “It’s a risk I’m not willing to take.”

“I don’t blame you, but that’s how it is. I’m not going to risk everything else by setting off alarms. Every protocol must be observed in the proper manner during the next few days. Wait where you are if you prefer.”

Chandrajuski stared into Korban’s eyes, knowing lots more needed to be said, but sensing that Korban was not entirely free to talk. His instincts screamed at him to say no, but his trust in Korban was enough to overcome them. On the other hand, he didn’t even know if Val and Reba were still alive. They and the Rangers she’d brought from Earth could have walked into a trap and all be dead.

“It would be nice if I could speak with one or two others, just to be certain,” he said to Korban.

“Such a meeting would be . . . disruptive. Jake’s hosts, both of them, would back me up.”

Jake’s hosts were Mike, and for a short time, the Queen. Korban would have found it very difficult to draw that information from Val or Reba without their cooperation, and it was the most Korban would give him.

He decided to go with his trust in Korban rather than his instincts. He broke the connection and waited for a call from Zygtta.

He borrowed admiral’s emblems from his squadron commander before setting out in the shuttle. Zygtta met him in the landing bay, and the two Gamordians greeted in their own special way, tapping closed fists against each other’s fists. The two of them went to Zygtta’s private office. On the way they passed several Chessori, and Chandrajuski’s high hopes deflated. This did not look good.

The office was pleasing to Chandrajuski, decorated in a manner similar to his own when he’d been a squadron commander. The two Gamordians did not use the conference table – neither ever sat.

“I’m told you’re of the right persuasion. How much do you know?” Chandrajuski demanded the moment the door snicked shut.

“Not as much as I’d like, but enough. Korban walks a tightrope. He’s instructed me to tell you all I know. Do you have any means of convincing me that you’re who he thinks you are?”

“You mean, have I gone over to Struthers? No, I have not, and I will not.”

“Thank you, sir. It’s what I needed to hear.”

“We have a Queen, you know. I’m her Grand Admiral.”

“Grand Admirals fight from the rear, sir.”

“Not this one. I noticed a lot of Chessori aboard your ship. Do you know they’re the enemy?”

“I do, sir. Korban hand-picked each of the squadron commanders to whom he sent Chessori.”

“He knowingly allowed his ships to become infested?”

“He received instructions from a young human female. Those instructions were to hold for as long as he possibly could. It was either accept a limited number of Chessori or retreat. He chose to hold. Allowing the Chessori aboard his ships here has assuaged the governor enough to allow Korban to keep them out of most other squadrons in the sector. We’re ‘training’ them, with the intention of sending them out to districts later, and we’ve taken precautions, sir.”

“What precautions could you possibly take?”

“Section 68, paragraph 13.”

Chandrajuski could only stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not, sir.”

“That was always intended for small ships, not capital ships.”

“But it applies to all ships, and the AI’s are programmed to accept the command.”

“I’ve experienced the Chessori mind weapon briefly. I don’t think you’d have time to activate the program.”

“That’s what we’ve been told. The squadrons here at Orion III have inserted some special programming into the AI’s. If the captain, executive officer, or squadron commander is not in the net, a one hour countdown is begun. If the situation has not changed by the end of that hour, Section 68, paragraph 13 initiates, and the ships will self-destruct.”

Chandrajuski’s hands balled into fists. “You’ve been living in a time bomb for how long, Admiral?”

“Too long. I don’t have details, but when Korban instructed me to take you aboard, I sensed that we are nearing the end. Something is taking place as we speak.”

Chandrajuski turned away from Zygtta. He knew the mission of the Rangers that Reba had brought from Earth, but it was a long shot at best. Could they pull it off? He considered the three squadrons that were to set off from Orion III in just a few hours on a training mission and shuddered. It really was a training mission, but not for the ship’s crews.

He considered what the Terrans were up against, and an immediate problem came to mind. Reba’s soldiers were ground soldiers, not pilots and gunners, but once the scree sounded, they would be the only ones to fly the ships. How could he have missed this? It was a fundamental omission of command. Then he reconsidered. What could he have done about it? Reba’s men had been out of touch from the very beginning.

He turned back to Zygtta. “Does the self-destruct apply to all ships?”

“No, sir. We couldn’t bring everyone into the picture. Too many chances of a leak. It applies only to the cruisers and frigates.”

“Korban has some dedicated officers. My respect couldn’t be greater.”

“It’s a terrible thing we do to our crews. They’re completely unaware, and most of them are good, loyal men.”

“What percentage are loyal?”

“Most, I think. We’ve been preaching the old mantra since the very beginning of the coup. My men do not know they have a Queen, we’ve been selective in whom we tell, but quiet rumors have spread, and I haven’t tried to stop them. We’ve been careful about how we treat the Chessori, as well. The senior officers, starting with myself, have treated them with indifference, and it’s rubbed off on the crew. The Chessori have trained on the guns, and they can fly the ships, but their performance is marginal.”

“And if you’d given them all the support you could?”

“I’m not sure. They came from the Chessori military, but I get the feeling they do things a lot differently on their own ships. I’m not certain they even have nets. The Chessori here have little interest in ours.”

“Hmm. Did you know they communicate mind to mind?”

“I did not! That might explain a few things. Being in the net with them is real . . . odd.”

“You’ve been in the net with them?”

“I have. I’m one of three that has to be in the net all the time.”

“What are they like?”

“Distant. I don’t sense their thoughts the same way I do others, and I get the impression they aren’t sensing mine, either. Whether it’s by choice or design, I don’t know, but it’s been to our benefit, and I haven’t pushed for it to improve. They communicate well between themselves, though.”

“They’re on all your ships?”

“They are.”

“Could you reassign all of them to your cruiser, or maybe the frigate?”

“Not without attracting a lot of attention. I don’t know what you have in mind, but such a move would definitely put them on alert.”

“Maybe you could try a new training regimen. What would happen if you pulled all your men from the frigate and gave it to the Chessori? Just to see how they’d do, you know?”

Zygtta looked at him like he was crazy. “I think you’d better explain, sir.”

“I can’t just yet. Would they go for it?”

“I don’t know! Probably not. We’re not training them to do everything aboard the ships, only to pilot them and to use the guns. It would strike them as quite odd if we left them alone in a ship without all the administration, maintenance, and services they’re accustomed to. I guess I could run it by their senior representative and find out.”

“No, don’t. We have another plan, but I don’t want to give you details yet. One thing that I can tell you is that you need another pilot. Will you let me provide one?”

“This is all very strange, sir.”

“I know, and it might not come to pass. I’m guessing at Korban’s plan, and I hate having to guess, but if you get orders to change places with the ships near the planet, will you let me know?”

Zygtta stared at him for a time. “I’d like to run this by Korban, sir.”

“By all means. Just be discreet. I promise you that if the Chessori discover his master plan or mine, Section 68, paragraph 13 is the likely outcome.”

* * * * *

Korban had four squadrons in port, and though three of them were riddled with Chessori, each was commanded by an individual loyal to him. For that reason, the governor hesitated to dismiss him outright.

Teams of Reba’s Raiders boarded each of the three squadrons, one team led by Reba, one by Val, and the last by Waverly himself. With minimal language abilities, this last group would operate under the greatest disadvantage prior to any fighting. Once the fighting began, and if the Chessori reacted as anticipated, the groups would not need to communicate with anyone besides themselves. The scree would take out everyone but the Terrans and Chessori. Val, too, would be out of the picture. Before then, he would have to secure the bridge.

Reba’s group went first, followed shortly thereafter by the other two teams, each squadron heading out in a different direction from Orion III for what was supposed to be a brief training mission. Three days out from Orion III, she, Korban’s man Vidor, and three Raiders met briefly with the squadron commander in his private quarters aboard the cruiser. Reba pinned her Knights Pins on her collar, then they all proceeded to the bridge. The captain was astonished when she ordered him and his men to stand down. The squadron commander explained the program to the captain who immediately added her name to the short list of officers required to be in the net to prevent the AI from starting the self-destruct countdown. Reba and the captain went into the net together and detailed crewmembers to escort the Terrans to their appointed positions within the ship, then the captain withdrew, leaving the net to Reba.

She was monitoring progress throughout the ship when the scree sounded in earnest. Her body spasmed out of control, and she lurched from her seat to the deck. A deep burning sensation obliterated all conscious thought. Seconds passed as her Rider withdrew into her right leg.

When awareness returned, her heart pounded as if she’d just run a marathon. Her right leg remained on fire, but Celine had somehow managed to withdraw from the rest of her body. Gasping for breath, she raised herself to all fours, then clawed her way back to her seat.

She plugged back into the net, but the net refused to accept her. Suspecting why, she withdrew and focused all of her thoughts on the searing pain in her leg. In time, she brought that pain into focus, then under control. When she attempted to rejoin the net, it accepted her.

Critical minutes had passed. She focused on Engineering first, discovering her men meeting little resistance there. The squad in Weapons was having a harder time and several were down, but their commander soon reported the area secure. Fighting in the Communications area and the Chessori’s quarters had turned into pitched battles.

To her horror, she discovered the Chessori killing not just the Terran attackers but the helpless Empire crewmen stumbling about or writhing in pain on the decks.

The Chessori had evidently planned for serious fighting, because they drew heavy weapons from concealment about their stations and fought brilliantly. Reba’s teams were only lightly armed, anticipating only minor resistance after executing a lightning quick attack. She detailed several squad members securing the Weapons section to make their way to the armory and distribute all the heavy weapons they could find. She carefully monitored their progress to make certain they were not ambushed by Chessori – she definitely did not want these weapons to fall into the wrong hands.

The excruciating pain in her leg made concentration a real struggle, and the net did not like it. She felt as if she was running through sand as her mind shifted from sensor to sensor throughout the ship. Her mind, normally sharp and focused, was confusing the net, burdening it with sensations of pain it was not designed to filter out. How had Mike done it, she wondered? He had barely missed a step. Her own mind had become something that needed to be managed, a task as important to her job as was managing the ship. She stopped what she was doing and focused on herself again, focusing on the fire in her leg, examining it and corralling it, forcing it into a smaller corner of her consciousness. When she sent her mind back out into the net, she did so with more confidence and focus. The net responded instantly.

While concentrating on guiding her men, she neglected to keep an eye on the corridors leading to the bridge. Without warning, several grenades rolled through the open hatch. One of Reba’s guards, Sergeant Durham, calmly tossed one of the grenades back out into the corridor, then jerked Reba from her console, threw her to the deck, and covered her body with his own. She was barely aware of the explosions, still trying to return to normal awareness after being jerked from the net without warning. She became aware of blaster fire from beside herself, but she couldn’t move with Sergeant Durham’s heavy weight pinning her to the deck.

She managed to crawl out from under him and drew her weapon, but there was no one to shoot at. A small, white head peered around the hatch but ducked back quickly as Durham fired. He continued firing as he crawled to the hatch entrance. Reba stayed close behind him, crawling over bodies of the bridge crew.

Durham stopped firing and stood up, motioning her to hold her fire and remain clear of the hatch. When a Chessori head peered around the hatch once more at floor level, he blasted it from above, then leaned out into the corridor and loosed more shots. He disappeared into the corridor for long seconds, and Reba heard more shooting.

She rose up unsteadily and leaned against the wall, her hand ready to punch the door closed. She glanced around the hatchway, saw a scorched corridor with several Chessori bodies, then Sergeant Durham returned, limping badly. In addition to a torn up leg, the skin on his right arm and the back of his head appeared shredded.

He slipped into the bridge and nodded. She hit the door control and watched the heavy blast door slide into position with a solid thunk. She then locked the door. No one would get through again without explosives.

She slid to the floor, both legs on fire now, but she knew Durham was in worse shape. He glanced at her, the glance carefully categorizing her wounds and discarding them for the moment, then he went to Sergeant Peabody. Peabody was unconscious, his face peeled like a tomato.

“He’s still breathing,” Durham reported. “Don’t know how much longer he’ll last. He’s lost his eyes for sure. How bad are you hit, Ma’am?” he demanded.

“I’ve never hurt more, but I’ll survive. Do what you can for him. I’ll try to get a medic up here.” She clawed her way to the console she’d been seated at and donned the helmet, both legs screaming. She plugged in but had trouble concentrating on the simplest task. She managed to call for a medic, then jerked the helmet from her head. The ship would just have to do without her for a while.

Sergeant Durham was busy wrapping his buddy in gauze, concentrating mostly on his head. “Antipersonnel grenade of some kind,” he answered her unspoken question. “Looks like it sent out millions of tiny fragments rather than just blowing up into big pieces. Our body armor helped. Peabody took it in the head and shoulders.”

“Don’t give up on him,” she ordered. “I know a guy who had his whole shoulder and arm shot off. We grew him a new one. Just keep him alive until we can get one of these Empire doctors revived, and he’ll have a good chance of fighting another day.”

Durham’s eyes narrowed as he looked into her eyes, though his hands kept up their work. Then his gaze shifted to the rest of her body. “You’re not in the best shape yourself,” he announced.

“I’m better than I would have been if you hadn’t covered me up,” she responded grimly. “Thanks.” Looking him over, she announced, “You’re next. Your arm and leg look like hamburger.”

“Sorry to say it, Ma’am, but you look just as bad. Can you still control the ship?”

“In a moment. My Rider will help once the scree stops. I can deal with the pain, but it confuses the AI running the net. Guess they’re not programmed for such.”

He finished wrapping Peabody, then reached into his kit and removed a container of pills. “Take these,” he ordered, handing the container to her. “Take as many as you want. They won’t prevent you from functioning.”

“No, I’ll wait for my Rider to take care of me. Take them yourself, and give me those bandages. It’s your turn,” she announced.

“No,” he replied grimly. “We lose everything if we lose the ship. You have to get back to work. I’ll do what I can for the rest of the crew here, then patch us both up while you’re plugged in.”

She nodded as she reached for the helmet. “I’ll do a better job of it this time,” she said. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“That’s how we all learn,” he said with a tight grimace. “And don’t worry about me, I’m not as bad as I look.”

She entered the net and tried to contact the frigate, but no one responded. They were probably fighting just as intensely, she decided.

She studied the situation on the cruiser through the net’s sensors. Nearly all the remaining Chessori were bottled up in Communications and Crew Accommodations, and the fighting was intense. She detailed a few men to take care of Chessori stragglers, then concentrated on the main fighting.

She queried the net, having come to the same conclusion Mike had reached during the battle aboard the cruiser orbiting Brodor. Was it possible to vent certain compartments to space? It was, but doing so would kill any friendly Empire crewmen in the affected area. She decided things were not yet bad enough to take that desperate step.

Her men secured the Communications section an hour later. Despite their exhaustion, she detailed one squad to hold Communications and sent the others to reinforce the squads in Crew Accommodations.

The fighting continued for hours. The Terran commander eventually called an all clear, but the call was unnecessary. The scree had ceased, and for only one reason. Reba collapsed into her seat, exhausted.

The survivors from the original crew revived after the scree stopped, and as they did so, they resumed control of the ship. The captain and most of the bridge crew were dead, though the squadron commander had only minor injuries. Reba knew there were Rebel sympathizers on board, but the squadron commander would have to sort them out in his own way. At least they had succeeded in removing the Chessori, of whom there were no survivors. The frigate had come back on line several hours earlier. All the Chessori there had been killed, as well.

As damage reports came in to the bridge, her officers were aghast. The Chessori had killed unarmed men wherever they were encountered, decimating the Empire ranks. Her Raiders had suffered as well, losing 20 men with another 35 wounded, losses totaling 55%. It had not been a good day. Sick bay was operating at a capacity it had never been designed for.

Results from the other two battle groups were tight beamed to Reba; they had experienced much the same. The ships had been secured, but some 15% of their crewmembers had been killed, and another 30% wounded. Reba reported all this to Korban over the tightbeam communicator.

“Can you continue with your mission?” he asked, deep concern evident in his eyes.

“We’re decimated, and the crews of your ships are decimated. We’ll have to change the plan. I need fresh replacements from the ground to take the rest of the squadrons.”

“Hold your positions. You can’t return here at the moment. There are some new developments. I’ll get back to you.”

Korban called Chandrajuski. “The operation was a success, but there are some problems. We’re not able to deal with the far squadrons at the moment. Do you have resources that I’m not aware of?”

“If you can hold the planet, I’ll take care of things out here.”

Korban’s eyebrows rose. “You can do that?”

“I can, but I can’t take the planet, and that’s the key. Can you?”

“Without your presence, I’d be at the end of my holding game, but now . . . yes, sir. Definitely. We need to coordinate our activities.”

“That will be difficult. Tight beams are not completely secure, and I expect there will be leaks from your staff. I need at least a week. Two weeks would be better.”

“I’ll give you a week, but I can’t promise more. Discovery of the missing Chessori crew members is going to be the catalyst. I’ll keep that quiet as long as I can. Don’t forget that Rebel reinforcements are on the way, and I don’t know their make-up or timing.”

“Then we both have our assignments, my friend. Alert your squadrons out here to accept visitors, friends of mine. Those visitors are to be added to a special list, increasing the number from three to four. Understood?”

A grin split Korban’s face. “I wish I knew what you had in mind. Consider it done. Should I hold Reba in reserve?”

“No. If my plan fails, she will not have access.”

Chandrajuski put his plan into effect immediately while Reba and the three squadrons delayed their return to Orion III. Two more of Chandrajuski’s squadrons emerged from hyper, and a week later all three of Korban’s outlying squadrons accepted a visitor, in each case dropped off by a single fighter that departed immediately. None of this was out of the ordinary.

Each of the visitors was a senior Terran pilot from one of Chandrajuski’s cruisers, and each was a volunteer. Aboard Zygtta’s cruiser, Chandrajuski accompanied the visitor. When the door closed behind them in Zygtta’s private office, Chandrajuski introduced Commander Bill Hardesty.

“What’s his purpose here, sir?” Zygtta asked Chandrajuski.

“Let him explain. It’s him you will have to trust.”

Zygtta’s eyes settled on Hardesty. “Go ahead, Commander.”

“Do you understand the nature of the Chessori threat, sir?”

“I do, though I’ve never experienced this mind weapon of theirs.”

“I’m qualified to fly this ship, and I am one of a very few who are immune to this mind weapon, sir.”

Zygtta sat back, perplexed at this sudden revelation. His gaze went to Chandrajuski. “I was told no one was immune.”

“A means has been discovered to counter it, but the process is, so far, limited. It does not work for most, and its existence is an Imperial Secret, Admiral.”

“So limited that you send only one?” He turned back to Hardesty. “You can’t possibly clear the Chessori from my squadron by yourself.”

“Actually, with your cooperation, I can. A major battle is shaping up out here, and the governor knows it. You’re going to tell your Chessori crewmembers that you’ve received orders from the governor that they will play a major part in that battle. Without explaining why, you’re going to tell them that he’s ordered them to be given access to certain information about the ships that was previously withheld.”

“What information would that be?”

“I don’t know, sir, but whatever it is, it’s going to require all of them to attend a briefing. All of them at the same time and in the same room. The room should be as close to the hull as it can be, and I have to be able to lock it from the bridge.”

Zygtta stared at him as pieces of the plan fell into place in his mind. Hardesty saw in the Gamordian’s eyes when he reached understanding.

“You’re going to hole my ship?” he shouted.

“Only a small hole, sir. I’ll make sure the shields are down so there won’t be any collateral damage.”

“He’s going to hole my ship?” Zygtta said, turning to Chandrajuski.

“Consider the alternative.”

Zygtta stepped away, his long legs moving delicately as he rounded the table and approached them. “There must be a better way. We can coerce them into the room and just leave them there, let them starve.”

Hardesty rose to face Zygtta. “We can, sir, and I’m willing. By all reports, the scree is pretty bad. I’ll never know since I can’t feel it, but you will. How long will it take them to die? A week? Two weeks? A month?”

Zygtta’s fists clenched. “How long can they keep it up? I don’t want my ship holed.”

“I don’t know the answer to that, sir, but if one gets tired, I would imagine it could be passed to another.”

“We could hold the briefing in a hangar bay. You could evacuate it into space.”

“Do you think they’d fall for it? Do not underestimate your opponent, Admiral, and don’t forget – I’ll be the only one functioning when this scree starts up. If any Chessori escape, they’ll eventually breach the bridge. They’ll have the ship if they do. We only have one chance to do this right.”

Zygtta turned his long neck toward Chandrajuski. “You should have sent more.”

“In time there will be more. As it is, his presence here has significantly reduced the effectiveness of my own squadron. Pilots immune to the scree are in very short supply at the moment. My squadron commander is doubling as a pilot until he returns.”

“You’re not immune?”

“I’m not. The process doesn’t work for Gamordians.”

“Will it ever?”

“No.”

Zygtta stared at him for a time. “There’s a lot you’re not telling me, sir.”

“But it’s a good plan. If we can get all the Chessori into one place, you’ll have your squadron back, and you can disable the paragraph 13 program. You’ll have a small hole in your ship, but that only restricts you from entering atmosphere. You’ll be completely battle ready, which is more than you can say at the moment. In the meantime, you need to add Commander Hardesty to the list of who must be on the net.”

The wise, old eyes of two Gamordians blinked slowly as they stared at each other. “You ask too much, sir. I would ask proof that what you say is true.”

“These are terrible times, but I act in the name of the Queen. All of us do. We’re going to give Struthers a black eye, a big black eye, here in Orion Sector, and Orion Sector is just the beginning. I have experienced the scree, and it is very, very bad. The proof I offer you is that I am willing to remain aboard your ship during the operation.”

“You would do that?”

“I will. Let’s contact the other two squadrons. They, too, will have doubts. We’ll have to be discrete, but we’ll let them know of my commitment to the success of this operation.”

Zygtta opened his mouth to display many, many small teeth, and he and Chandrajuski batted fists together.

The same plan went into effect for all three squadrons, all scheduling the briefing to take place at the same time. Just prior to the briefing, squadron commanders ordered their attached frigates to close in on them. Though strange, the order was obeyed, and when the scree sounded, all ships of the squadron were affected.

Hours later, a frigate piloted by a Terran approached each cruiser, and a gunner surgically blasted through the tough skin of the cruiser. The scree ceased immediately, and Chandrajuski’s frigate pulled away quickly before it came under friendly fire.

There was no need for quickness. After hours of suffering the scree, the crews needed long minutes to come to their senses.

Chapter Twenty-two

Korban was tight-lipped when Reba, Val, Waverly, and the three squadron commanders briefed him in person. The utter ruthlessness of the Chessori surprised all of them, and now that they had personally experienced the scree, the true impact of the Chessori presence within the fleet hit home hard.

Reba’s Raiders, too, were stunned. Only half of their comrades returned unscathed. Such losses could not be tolerated. They would have to revise their tactics. Chessori would henceforth be shot on sight.

Val met with the Chessori traders he’d befriended some months earlier and moved them to Korban’s headquarters.

“What’s going on, Val?” Forg asked.

“I’m not at liberty to say, but I don’t think Chessori will be welcome here for long. This move is for your own protection.”

“We’d like to assist you.”

“Then do as I ask. I need nothing more at the moment.”

Forg considered, his large eyes never leaving Val’s. “Is this a test?”

“No, you’ve earned my trust. Do not betray that trust, my friend.”

“You’re a Knight, Val. We will not betray you. Are there Chessori traders in the system?”

“There are.”

“They might be innocent. I would have been. Is there any way to warn them away?”

“I won’t make any promises, but I’ll do what I can. Can you tell me which ones to warn?”

“Just warn all of them that Chessori are no longer welcome here. True traders will leave, or at least remain out-system until things are settled.”

* * * * *

Two days later, Korban received a summons from the Sector Governor, Sikes. Was this the call he had been dreading? He wasn’t ready to wrest control of the sector from Sikes yet.

He notified Chandrajuski, then delayed for a time while Colonel Waverly positioned his forces. When he answered the summons, it was uneasily, knowing he walked into a den of Rebel loyalists. He was accompanied by Reba, who had undergone treatment for her wounded lower leg but still limped noticeably, his adjutant, and three Terran soldiers. Waverly stationed a number of squads inside Korban’s headquarters and posted snipers on rooftops between his headquarters and the governor’s palace. Others were detailed to stroll unobtrusively in the vicinity of the governor’s palace, while the bulk of the men were held in reserve at various other locations.

Korban and his small group entered the governor’s mansion amidst hostile stares and the presence of many Chessori. Reba’s three sergeants, survivors of the battle on the cruiser, were not invited into Sikes’ office. They remained in his outer office where they stationed themselves well away from each other and remained at the ready.

Inside the office, two Chessori stood behind the governor’s desk. Sikes looked angry but confident.

“My Chessori friends tell me they are unable to communicate with their friends aboard your ships, Admiral.”

“I’m not surprised. They all left. Have your Chessori friends any news of them?”

“Only that they are not aboard the ships, Admiral,” replied the Chessori standing to Sikes’ left. “Where have you sent them?”

“I don’t know where they are. They all decided to leave at the same time, and my commanders were more than willing to let them.”

“You lie!” exclaimed the Chessori.

“Be careful of whom you call a liar,” Korban replied. “You are guests here, or had you forgotten?”

“Enough!” Sikes roared. “Where are they, Admiral?”

“Gone,” Korban replied angrily. “It doesn’t matter where.” He peered hard at the two Chessori. “I find it interesting that you two know no more about them than the governor. It tells me that the range of your telepathic communications ability is limited. Now,” he said, turning back to the governor, “as military commander of this Sector, I declare these and all Chessori to be enemies of the Empire. They’re under arrest.”

“You don’t have the authority, Admiral. These are political appointees subject only to me.”

“You’re wrong, Governor,” Korban shot back. “Worse, you’re stupid. These Chessori plan to allow your rule only as long as it pleases them. You’re playing right into their hands.”

“You’re relieved, Admiral,” Sikes stated calmly, rising to his feet.

“I do not recognize your authority to relieve me, Governor,” Korban replied evenly. In a softer tone he added, “Are you ready to make your move then?”

“You’ve forced my hand. Reinforcements from Struthers will enter the system within the next few days, so my hand is strong. Hand over your weapons, all of you,” he demanded.

“Sorry, Governor. You’ve forced my hand, as well.” Korban reached for his blaster, as did Reba and the adjutant. The scree came immediately. Reba fell to the floor as Celine’s pain filled her leg, but she was up quickly and fired once at each Chessori. She didn’t miss. The governor, Korban, and the adjutant were all down. The scree stopped when the two Chessori died, but it resumed moments later. Reba heard blasters firing from the other side of the door.

She limped to the door and pulled it open, instantly dropping to the floor, her blaster fanning the room. No one stood except her Raiders and one Rebel lurching around in agony. Sergeant Timms yelled, “We’re secure in here. You?”

“Secure!” she shouted. “Check the next room. I’m calling for reinforcements.”

She hurried back into the room to make certain the Chessori were truly dead. They were. She spoke into her communicator, calling Colonel Waverly. “We’re in the back of the mansion and trapped. We counted at least thirty Chessori on the way in. There might be others we didn’t see.”

“The scree has been felt here at Korban’s headquarters, as well. We’re securing the building and will work our way toward the mansion,” he responded calmly. “It might take a while to reach you. It’s a mess outside. Everyone’s down, civilians included.”

“Shoot any Chessori on sight,” she advised. “We’re going to fight our way out. Tell your men we’re on the move.”

“Secure all Rebels you encounter. We don’t want to have to start fighting all over again when the scree stops,” Waverly reminded her.

“Understood.”

They had come prepared, but not necessarily prepared enough. She didn’t have handcuffs enough to go around, so she stunned everyone not already dead except the admiral and his adjutant. When she realized that the ones she stunned stopped writhing in pain, she stunned Korban and his adjutant, as well, hoping it offered some relief from the scree. She dragged them into the next room, but her three sergeants had moved well down the central corridor, clearing rooms as they went.

She caught up to them just as they approached a large foyer area where several corridors and stairways merged. This area would be a challenge: Sergeant Timms didn’t have enough men to properly clear an area this big.

Reba called Waverly. “Any progress toward us?”

“No. We’re pinned down out front. I’ve sent guys around both sides – they’ll try other entrances. We have a pretty big fight going on out front.”

Reba could hear it. Heavy weapons pounded frequently. She huddled with the three sergeants. “Any other entrances or exits?” she asked.

“Not here,” Timms replied, “unless you want to go out the windows. Personally, I’d like to finish what we started.”

“So would I. Korban needs to secure the city and the space port. We’re going to have to do it for him, starting with this building. Colonel Waverly said the whole city is in turmoil. Wish I knew the range of this scree.”

“I think we’ll know more about it when this is all over,” Timms replied. He looked at Reba. “You’re not very mobile. I want you to stay here on the right side of the corridor. Cover our left side as well as you can. We’re going right, and we’ll work our way all the way around the foyer. Ready?”

She nodded, and the men moved into the open area using standard clearing techniques that had become second nature, techniques Reba had learned, as well, during her training with them. She followed Timms’ instructions and kept her weapon and attention to the left side of the foyer area. A large table and flower vase stood in the middle of the room, giving the men slight cover. Reba saw movement on a stairway, and she knew no one was moving but the Chessori. She waited until she had a clear target, then fired three shots. A white body fell down the stairs.

Sergeant Timms led his team of three, and all of them loosed patterns of three shots from time to time, but Reba couldn’t see their targets. The team made it all the way around the room and back to her.

“Not much activity,” Timms announced. “I think they’ve moved out to the front of the building. Let’s go.”

Reba dragged Korban and his adjutant as the three Raiders covered her. As soon as they reached the far side of the room, the three sergeants picked up their pace down the hallway, leaving her to follow with Korban and his adjutant. She finally caught up to them at the main entrance of the mansion. Timms advised her that they’d had little further resistance, and looking outside, it was clear why. Colonel Waverly had his hands full with more than a hundred Chessori holding his men at bay across the plaza fronting the mansion, and they had some seriously heavy weapons. Sergeant Timms used hand motions to position Reba and the other two sergeants, then led the assault on the heavy weapons, taking the Chessori from the rear by surprise. The battle quickly turned into a route. Some Chessori tried to surrender, but Reba announced over her comm link that there would be no quarter given until the scree ended. All Chessori they could find died, yet the scree continued unabated.

Reba and Colonel Waverly huddled together to come up with a plan. They had made plans, but those plans had fallen apart with the first shot. Their main concerns were primary locations, the government headquarters buildings around the mansion and the spaceport, half of it civilian and half of it military. Waverly detailed two full squads to remain behind to search and clear the mansion, to include taking the governor and his staff into custody, then detailed four squads to each nearby building to root out any Chessori hiding there. The rest of his teams went to the military spaceport. They had to secure ships with heavy guns before the Chessori got their act together.

“How long can your men keep this up?” she asked Waverly as they raced for the spaceport, Reba limping along as fast as she could.

“You just point us in the right direction, Ma’am,” he replied with a reassuring tone.

“It could take days.”

“Then it will take days.”

Waverly’s men had suffered only minor losses so far, but the most dangerous type of fighting potentially still lay before them, that of clearing ships and buildings. They were, to a man, very, very good at this particular form of fighting, and they set to with great care. When she and Waverly reached the spaceport, he called his officers into a meeting, a plan was set, and assignments handed out. The officers returned to their men, assigning individual companies, platoons, and squads as necessary.

Lieutenant Stephens and his platoon of four squads was assigned one of four heavy gun emplacements on the perimeter of the spaceport. He approached warily with his men, not having a clue how to get into the building or how the insides of the building were laid out. He ran a hand over the stubble of a beard as he conferred with Sergeant Walters, his most experienced sergeant.

“It’s armored, that’s for sure, and probably shielded, as well,” Walters said, staring at the massive structure. It appeared as if a square block of obsidian, several stories high and some 50 meters on a side, had been planted in the ground. There were no windows and only one door that they could see.

“We won’t be able to blow our way in.”

“Maybe the door is unlocked,” Walters replied. “Let’s find out.”

Stephens placed his squads, one each at the back corners of the building, one at the nearest corner, and Sergeant Walters on the door. Walters was squad one. Squad two would follow if Walters could get in. The rest would remain outside for security. Stephens started to go with Walters and his men to the door, but Walters placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You know my guys are better at this,” he said. “This is a tough one. We don’t have a clue what we’ll run into, and we don’t know our way around. Why don’t you come in with squad two?”

Stephens looked at his grizzled sergeant in surprise. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Sergeant. I can’t compete with your years of experience. Go to it.”

Stephens received a call from squad three behind the building. “There’s a rear entrance, sir.”

“You know the drill, sergeant. No one that comes out of that door lives.”

“Yes, sir.”

Walters and his nine men rushed up to the side of the building and lined up to the right side of the door. If the door opened, everything would move very fast from that point on. Teams of four would work together, though the individual team members would change in a fluid and complex pattern of movement and covering movement, a ballet they had conducted many, many times. Fields of fire were fundamental: each man had a specific field of fire, and his weapon would never cross the body of another team member.

Sergeant Inoue was first in line. He touched the door-open pad, and to his surprise, the door rumbled slowly aside. Walters was amazed. The soldiers responsible for security here must have succumbed to the scree, as well. Inoue took a quick look across the opening to clear the far side of the room and moved in, angling around the door and turning to his right, his weapon pointed slightly down but ready for instant use. Immediately behind him, the second man, Sergeant Hodgson, slid in behind him, his weapon traversing from the center of the room to the left side of the room, and he moved left. The third man in moved right, focusing center and right, to follow Inoue. Walters came in fourth, focusing center and left, to follow number two. This took about three seconds.

The room wasn’t a room, it was a foyer that opened into two wide corridors, each going in opposite directions around the inside of the facility. Two soldiers thrashed about on the floor, clearly under the effect of the scree. No words were spoken as Inoue and number three continued to the right, and number two and Walters continued down the corridor to the left. The rest of the squad followed, each peeling off to the right or left. Walters team of four had two new members, and his own position, number four, had moved up to number two. His field of fire had changed, as had his movement, but the new number three and four men knew their jobs.

Several doors opened off the corridor before Walters. His number one, Sergeant Hodgson, stopped at the first door, which was open. Walters and the number three and four men immediately lined up behind Hodgson as he cleared what he could see of the room with his eyes, still close to the wall. It only took an instant, then he moved as before, into the room and right. Walters, as number two, went left, followed by numbers three and four. The room was empty. They moved back into the corridor, the last man in line breaking open a fluorescent tube and tossing it to the floor at the doorway. Anyone else coming this way would know the room was secure. Eight seconds had passed since entering the facility.

They moved down the corridor, clearing two more rooms before reaching the end of the corridor, which turned right. Twenty-five seconds had elapsed since entering the building. At the corner, Hodgson, hugging the outer wall, quickly made the turn, clearing the corridor with his eyes as his field of view increased, his weapon traversing with his eyes. Walters was immediately behind him, and he stayed to the right side of the corridor. Numbers three and four followed, concentrating center and left, but also concentrating high and low in case they encountered a threat from above, such as a catwalk. Hodgson saw movement half way down the corridor, but it was fleeting. He did not take a shot.

They continued down the corridor at a fast, practiced gate that kept the weapons steady, all four men now on the right side of the corridor, each with an assigned field of fire. More men came up behind them, half of squad two and Lieutenant Stephens. They reached a wide descending stairway opening off the right side of the corridor toward the inside of the building.

The team of four lined up on the approach to the stairway, then Hodgson turned the corner hugging the wall to his right and started down. Walters followed, crossing over to hug the wall to his left. They quickly reached a landing and made the left turn. Hodgson hugged the outer wall of the turn, his weapon clearing the lower stairway as it came into view. He saw movement and fired as two white heads peered around the entrance of a room at the bottom. He missed, but he kept moving down and firing. Walters made the turn right behind him, though he stayed on the left wall. He saw the same movement and fired, then instantly went into a crouch to improve his aim. He might have hit his target with the first shot but wasn’t sure. He fired three quick shots at the Chessori, then three shots at the other Chessori who disappeared. The other two men followed number one, remaining to the right side of the stairway and out of Walters field of fire.

They reached the bottom and were joined by Walters. One minute had elapsed since the first man entered the building, and some five seconds had elapsed since starting down the stairwell. One Chessori lay dead at their feet.

The stairway ended in a landing. Centered on the wall across the landing was a heavy blast door, wide open, leading into a large room filled with control stations. Three men were lined up on the right side of the doorway hugging the wall beside the door, and Walters lined up by himself to the left.

Hodgson tossed a stun grenade into the room, shouted “Light,” and they each counted two seconds. On the count of two, Hodgson entered, his weapon sweeping from left to right as he moved right. He fired two shots as his weapon traversed a Chessori head sticking up behind a console. He didn’t wait to see if he hit his target. His weapon continued traversing to the right as he moved right. He fired two more shots at another piece of Chessori visible to the side of a console, but again, he did not wait to see if he had hit his target. His flow continued to the right, and he moved along the wall to the right.

Immediately behind him, Sergeant Walters went left, his weapon also firing at the Chessori in the center, but he, too, continued his flow to the left, and he moved along the wall to the left. Immediately behind him, number three moved right but focused more on the center of the room. His weapon, too, fired at the first Chessori, though it was already dead. The body just hadn’t had time to fall yet. Number four followed Walters. The second Chessori was not dead. Number three moved right, following Hodgson. The Chessori raised a weapon toward Hodgson who was focused to his right and did not see the creature, but number three did. The upper part of the Chessori disappeared as three blaster shots hit it in quick succession.

Three seconds had elapsed since the four men started into the room.

Each two-man team continued right and left around the room. Walters, still number two, focused ahead and left while number three followed some three feet behind, focused toward the center and left side of the room. Number three also focused high and low, but there were no balconies.

The center of the room held a circle of workstations, and numbers three and four broadened their focus to include the far side of the room, the oblique angles, where they had a better angle on anyone hiding. Number four, just behind Walters, spotted the top of a white head on the floor behind a work station across the room, just ahead of number one, Hodgson. He took three shots and didn’t miss. The same happened on his side of the room: number three took out that Chessori. Hodgson fired at a head peering out from behind a console six feet in front of him, and he didn’t miss either.

More men from the second squad entered and moved to the sides, clearing the center of the room as they did so. “Clear,” Sergeant Walters called as he reached the far side of the room. Lieutenant Stephens, the last one in, broke a fluorescent light and threw it to the floor at the entrance to the room.

Walters and his three men lined up on each side of the rear exit from the room. They did their dance again, moving up the stairway as Stephens called the men outside to let them know they might have friendlies coming out. Walters reached the rear exit without further incident, and he tossed a fluorescent marker at the door to indicate the exit was secure. He turned around and went back into the control room.

His gaze met Stephens.’ “How long?”

Stephens’ eyes lowered. “You know, I was so worried about you that I forgot to time us.”

A tight grin flitted across Walters’ face as his adrenalin high started abating. “Any casualties?”

“None. The building is secure. We’ll make another sweep just to be certain, but it’s clear. There were quite a few Empire soldiers, most of them in a break room. They’re all secure.”

Stephens reported in to his captain, then turned to Walters. “We’re needed elsewhere. You stay here with squad one to secure the building. I’m taking squads two, three, and four with me.”

Walters’ eyes roamed the control room in thought. “Mind if we try to figure out how this stuff works?” he asked.

“Have at it, as long as you keep the place secure. I’ll be busy elsewhere. Report anything to Captain Jordan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Walters set security at both entrances, then he huddled together with Hodgson in conversation. While they had no clue what the various workstations were for, each station had a helmet just like what they’d used aboard ships to enter the net. He looked a question at Hodgson, who waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Be my guest, Walters.”

Walters pulled the helmet over his head. Nothing happened for a while, but then he felt the net coming alive, just as he had on ships. He experimented for a while, then found a mental switch and talked to his men.

“Hey, this is pretty cool. Hodgson, get in here with me.”

He and Hodgson met on the net and carefully waded their way through various channels. They eventually located targeting computers, shield controls, and firing commands, then they figured out how to open the firing ports.

“I need two more of you in here with me,” he called to his men.

It took a while to get the newcomers up to speed, but he soon had them aboard. Then he sent a thought to the AI. “We need some training.”

The AI responded instantly. The scene outside changed to simulation, then targets appeared. The AI carefully led them through the necessary processes to control shields, identify targets, track them, and fire when ready. After three hours, Walters felt ready. The AI wanted to tie him into the rest of the net guarding the spaceport, but Walters hesitated. He didn’t know if those guns were secure yet. He assigned two men to keep an eye out for real targets, then he and Hodgson exited the net.

“Captain Jordan,” he said into his communicator, “we’re secure here, and we think we know how to work the guns. How are things out there?”

“One building at a time. You know how it is. We haven’t found many Chessori, and the scree is still sounding, so they’re out here somewhere. We’ve taken two more gun positions, but we can’t get into the last one. The door is locked, and no one’s available with the codes to open it. Stay where you are, and I’ll pass the word that your cannons are manned. We might be able to do the same with the others. Good job, Walters.”

“Can you send some back-up? I’d like to get all my men into the net here.”

“I’ll detail squad two back to you. I might need them back later.”

Waverly was advised of the situation, and he smiled. “Pretty sharp guys, huh?” he said to Reba.

“I didn’t know they were so creative,” she said. “I’m worried about that last gun emplacement. If there are Chessori in there, they might shoot me down if I have to use a ship. I wonder if we can take it out with Walters’ gun?”

Waverly’s lips pursed. “You might lose Walters and his men in the process. The guns are probably evenly matched.”

“Then maybe we need to tilt the scales a little. See if your men can get up to speed on the other two guns. I’m going to talk to Walters. Which one is he in?”

“That one,” Waverly said, pointing. The fighting had been going on for hours, and Reba was exhausted, but she left in a hurry, limping as fast as she could. Val was never far from her thoughts, and she knew he was suffering from the scree, but the only thing she could do to help him was try to end it.

Then she had a thought. She spoke into her communicator to Waverly. “Do you think you could send someone to find Val and stun him?”

Waverly understood instantly. “He’s at headquarters. I’ll see it gets taken care of. We might do the same for Korban and his men.”

When she reached the gun emplacement, she had no idea how to get in. Waverly, though, had anticipated her need and called ahead. The door opened, and she stared into the muzzles of two blasters.

“Sergeant Walters at your service, Ma’am.”

“Walters, you deserve a medal,” she announced. “I expect I’ll be taking a ship up soon, and I don’t want the last gun emplacement shooting me down. Think you can take it out?”

His eyebrows rose in surprise. “I don’t know!” He considered, then said, “We’ll have to see if this thing can fire that low. The AI is probably programmed to prevent shooting its own facilities.”

“Let’s find out,” she invited.

The gun could angle itself low enough, but the AI was programmed to prevent shooting its own guns on the space port. Reba went into the net with Walters and worked with the AI. It was not in the same class as the AI’s on ships, but the job was not nearly as complex, so it didn’t have to be. Nevertheless, it was still a computer, and it could not overcome its programming. Reba tried another tack.

“Computer, it’s time for maintenance. You’re going to shut yourself down. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Can we use the gun while you’re shut down?”

“Yes, but only under manual control.”

“Okay, I want you to aim at the gun emplacement we’ve been talking about. You are not going to fire.”

“Done.”

“Okay, you’re going to shut down, but bring yourself back in five minutes. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Execute,” she commanded.

The AI’s presence evaporated, but the shields, targeting, and firing controls still functioned. It would be much more difficult to hit a moving target under these conditions, but their target was not moving.

Reba and Walters left the net. He was pretty concerned. “You know, that gun will be an even match for me.”

“I know. You’re going to give me two hours, then open up on it. I’ll be in a ship somewhere out there, and I’ll open up on the gun as soon as I see your first shot. See if you can get the two other gun emplacements to join you.”

“You’re going to fire a ship’s weapons from the ground?” he asked in surprise.

“If I can. If I can’t, I’ll get word back to you before your first shot.”

She took off at a fast limp and rounded up a crew of experienced gunners, then headed for the largest ship on the field, a frigate. Reba had never been on, let alone flown, a frigate. Frigates were multi-storied fortresses literally sprouting with guns. The guns of a frigate were not as powerful as those of a cruiser, but what the frigate lacked in power it made up in numbers. The very presence of a frigate moving in on bands of smugglers or pirates brought instant surrender.

Reba had to ask the AI for directions to the bridge. Along the way, she found Empire crewmembers scattered around the ship, all in the throes of the scree. Her men stunned everyone they found, and Reba speeded up the process by directing searchers from the net. Then everyone plugged in, got situated, and Reba prepared to lift the ship.

She didn’t want to take off in case the gun emplacement had orders to shoot her down, but she had no choice. She had to lift her ship above the ships parked between her and the gun emplacement. She lifted, and the moment she did so, she came under fire. The gun crew must have been watching her power up her shields and known she was going to take off.

The shot was devastating, immediately causing a shield to fail. The next shot followed immediately on its heels, and the ship was holed. She was in serious trouble, and she had another half hour before Walters would be ready. She lifted higher and turned the ship until it pointed directly at the offending gun. She never had to issue an order to fire – her gunners opened up with every gun under their control.

Walters must have been watching her power up. The moment the battery opened fire on her, he opened fire on it. The battery shook hard, but it kept firing at an incredible rate. Fire from her ship and Walters’s battery poured into the enemy battery, but the defenses were too strong to penetrate. Then the other two batteries joined in. The Chessori shields quickly failed, then an immense fireball rose from its location, followed closely by a huge explosion.

When the air cleared, there was only a smoking hole in the ground with a few remnants of structure poking out of it.

Reba set the ship down, but she kept her crew together, issuing orders to move to the only other frigate on the line. She no longer wanted this one, it was damaged. Someone else would have to see to repairs.

She got settled into the other frigate and waited to see what developed. She and Waverly stayed in constant contact; anything he knew, she would know.

It took a full ten hours to clear the military side of the port. Waverly glared wearily at the civilian ships standing on the other side of the field. The scree still sounded, and it had to be coming from there.

“Only one way to do this,” he said to his adjutant, now truly exhausted. “One by one.”

“Any idea where the scree is coming from?” Reba asked Waverly over the comm link.

“No idea at all. We haven’t secured all the buildings here at the port, and it could be coming from anywhere in the city,” he replied calmly. “We don’t know the range of the thing, but my money is on the civilian ships.”

“I’m worried that we could be attacked from a ship in orbit,” she replied, “but I don’t want to be out of position on the far side of the planet if someone comes in. I’ll just stay here and be ready to go if needed.”

Hours later, as Waverly and his men slowly worked their way through the civilian ships and buildings, a Chessori trader came streaking in at low altitude from the west. The moment it appeared, two Chessori traders parked on the far side of the field took off. Reba lifted her ship to attack, but to her amazement, both traders were taken out by the three weapons platforms on the field. She grinned at the thought of Walters and his crew getting another chance to use their newest toy.

Reba followed the first trader and allowed it to reach orbit, then set her own gunners on it. The trader’s weapons were insignificant against a frigate, and her gunners quickly prevailed. As the Chessori turned into a brief, roiling fireball, the scree ended.

When she returned to Orion III, she made her way to Korban’s office. Her Raiders were still clearing buildings in the city and at both space ports, but Korban’s men were getting back on their feet and taking over as quickly as Waverly could brief the commanders. All that remained was a mopping up exercise, and everyone knew it.

Val met her outside Korban’s office with a shaky embrace, still recovering from his own ordeal with the scree. Korban came out into the foyer to greet her, offering a deep bow.

“My Lady, you and your men have saved the day.”

She collapsed into a chair, returning his bow with a stern glare. “The day, perhaps. How goes it for Chandrajuski?”

“Struthers’ reinforcements have not yet arrived. Chandrajuski just called the rest of his ships into the system, and that should put them in front of the Rebels. I’d like to help him, but you’ve told me my sailors will be completely ineffective against the scree. Now that I’ve experienced it myself, I’m convinced.”

She considered long and hard, then looked to Val. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Korban has seven squadrons, four of them in excellent condition, the others lacking only crew. Unfortunately, you’re the only pilot we have who is immune.”

She looked at Waverly. “Then we’ll just have to train some more, eh?”

He shook his head. “I’ll give you all the gunners you want, but my guys are not psychologically fit to be pilots. It’s a whole different mindset from ground fighting.”

“I know, but we’re sitting at the bottom of a gravity well with everyone falling toward us. What if Chandrajuski’s forces lose, or what if they let a squadron or two get through? We’re dead meat. I’d like to set up a last ditch defense. We can forget the small ships. How about if we just try to man the cruisers?”

“We could just as well make plans to get out of here if necessary.”

“We could, Jim. They’re your men. It’s your call.”

Waverly stared at her, then looked to Val, then Korban. His lips tightened. “We’re not just here to rescue this sector. We’re here to defend Earth. We’ll stay, and we’ll fight even if they land. We’ll make plans for both contingencies. I’ll personally select your pilots, but I beg you to find a better solution.”

Korban issued orders to all seven of his squadrons to return to the planet. Reba would pilot one cruiser, and eighteen Raiders were chosen to fly the other six. The plan was Reba’s, and though it was unorthodox, she would train three pilots to fly each ship. Only one could do the actual flying, but that one pilot would be coached and helped by two others.

Val shook his head at the audacity of these Terrans, but he jumped in with both feet to help with the training.

Trexler

Chapter Twenty-three

Chandrajuski rejoined his forces, still shaken by the extended experience of the scree. “What’s the plan?” he asked M’Coda.

“The governor’s reinforcements are due to arrive soon, but we don’t know their strength, and we don’t know if they’ll be grouped together or come at us from all directions. We don’t want to show our fast ship advantage unless it’s absolutely necessary. Those are the ground rules.”

“Agreed, but they can’t possibly know what’s gone on here. I’m fairly confident they’ll arrive as one group, and I doubt if they’ll be prepared for an immediate fight. Their orders will be to back up the governor, theoretically an easy task.”

Trexler spoke. “Are you confident enough to position our forces based on that assumption?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t know where they’ll appear.”

M’Coda continued the briefing. “The only solution is to position ourselves inside them. If we scatter our slow ships, they might never make it to the battle. We’ll have to plan on something close to the planet.”

“I concur. I want all of our ships in a position to engage. We’ll have to cover as many eventualities as we can. Let’s get everyone moving.”

Chandrajuski had sixteen squadrons, ten of them slow and six of them fast. The fast ships were instructed to keep their beacons off until further notice. The slow ships would keep their beacons on, enticing the enemy to them.

The sixteen ships formed into four battle groups of four squadrons each and were dispatched to enter the system as close-in as they could, each battle group equidistant from the planet and from each other. In just a few hours, ships began emerging from hyperspace one after the other, grouping up, and speeding toward Orion III.

One day later, thirty-seven Rebel squadrons dropped from hyperspace in the far fringes of the system, all grouped together.

Chandrajuski, Trexler, and M’Coda studied the display intently, M’Coda’s whiskers getting a hard workout.

“Our ships are not in good position for this. It will definitely be a close-in battle,” Chandrajuski announced, “and the odds are not in our favor. It’s 37 against 16.”

“We’ve handled worse in training, and it might not be so bad if we can stretch out the timing,” Trexler replied, working the controls of the holographic display intently. He began moving ships around, exploring possibilities.

M’Coda caught on quickly and helped. “I think it will work, Ray,” he announced after a few minutes. “The Rebels were lazy. They exited hyper quite far out. We have time to reposition and keep the battle away from the planet.”

“Unless more come in from a different direction,” Trexler worried aloud.

M’Coda’s upper hands started a rapid preening of his whiskers. “If more come, the numbers will be against us. We’ll have to consider retreat. Remember, we have another battle to fight after this one. We cannot afford to lose all our forces in this first encounter.”

They both turned to Chandrajuski. It was his call. “I might be the grand admiral, but I don’t feel so grand all of a sudden,” he said.

His great eyes blinked, then he made his decision. “We cannot lose Aldebaran Sector. Retreat will remain an option, but we fight here until and unless the odds worsen.” He stared at them in contemplation. “They’ve sent thirty-seven squadrons. What an odd number.”

M’Coda’s whiskers began a new, refreshing preening. “Could it be all they have?” he asked.

“They certainly have many thousands of squadrons, but they might be limited in the number of trained Chessori crews, just as we are limited with our Terran crews.”

He began issuing orders to his squadrons. Soon, three of the four battle groups turned out-system. The 12 squadrons would travel outward for a day, jump into hyperspace, then jump back in as close as they could. They would be only slightly behind the Rebels when they returned. The four remaining squadrons would have to slow down the Rebel approach so the rest of the fleet could catch up.

Trexler began playing with the controls again while Chandrajuski conferred with his battle groups. M’Coda stepped to his side. “What’s on your mind, Ray?”

“We need to slow them down. I’d like to throw a little confusion at them when the fighting starts.”

“How?”

“We don’t want to display our fast ship capabilities if we can avoid it. I’m not sure we can, but what if we have all of our fast ships flank their formation? Their beacons are off, so the Rebels probably won’t even know they’re here. They might notice our drive signatures, but not until we close in on them. What do you think?”

M’Coda’s upper hands moved to his antennae as he considered. “Those four squadrons in front of the Rebels are in for a bad time. Four against 37, it’s unthinkable. They need any help we can provide. Your plan will improve their numbers, though 10 against 37 is still unacceptable.”

“It’s the best we can do. Their job will be to slow down the attackers until our trailing squadrons catch-up. Then it will be barely more than two against one, very acceptable odds. I only hesitate because I hate to keep throwing changes at our guys. It makes us look like we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Don’t worry. Chandrajuski is a master at this. Besides, we really don’t know what we’re doing. Battles on this scale have never been fought, and our men know it. They’ll see the power of this tactic and welcome it.”

A tightbeam transmission came to them from near the planet and was patched through to Trexler. Reba’s face filled the display. “Hey, what’s going on up there? Are you guys abandoning us?”

“Hi, Reba. How’s it going down there?”

“The city and space port are secure. We’re investigating other cities and ports to see if any Chessori remain. You can’t strand us, Ray.”

“I won’t. We’re just repositioning.”

She considered his words. “Oh. Sorry. The odds are pretty bad, ten against thirty-seven. I thought you might have decided to retreat.”

“You can’t see the whole picture from where you are. The odds are bad, but not that bad unless more Rebels show up. I’ll let you know if you need to leave in a hurry. Are you prepared to do that?”

“If we have to. We’d rather stay and fight. I’m preparing a reserve force here in case any of them make it past you.”

“Uh, say again?”

“Well, Korban has seven operational squadrons, and I have a lot of infantry guys that are excellent shots. It won’t take them all that long to get up to speed on the guns. I’m the only real pilot, but we’re cobbling some trainees together. We’re just manning the cruisers, not the smaller ships. It’s the best use of our resources.”

Trexler stared into her eyes for a time as his mind calculated. “You’re training Waverly’s guys to fly?”

“We are. It won’t be pretty, and it’s only a last ditch effort. We’re assigning three Rangers to act as one pilot. I’ll take one ship by myself.”

“How good are the gunners?”

“Fair, and getting better. They’re naturals for the job. And the port defenses are fully manned by our guys. They’ve already taken out two Chessori.”

Trexler pursed his lips and shook his head. “I should have given you a ship back on Earth. You’d earned it. I just wasn’t ready to give you up yet.”

Her dazzling smile lit up her face. “I’ll keep the seven I have if that’s okay with you.”

“Sorry, but I might take them away from you.” Her smile disappeared. Trexler leaned into the pick-up. “Reba, I have pilots, lots and lots of pilots. I can pull them from the fighters. I’d trade seven small fighters for seven cruisers any day.”

Her eyes widened. “Of course you can. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You have full Empire crews on board, right?”

“Yes . . . well . . . no. Three squadrons were pretty devastated internally when we cleared them of Chessori. The Chessori didn’t hesitate to kill regular crewmembers once the fighting started.”

“Are they operational?”

“Not against an Empire crew. Against a Chessori crew, they’ll be acceptable.”

“Get your ships started this way while I figure out what we’re going to do with them.”

“I sort of like the idea of a last line of defense, Ray.”

“So do I. We might turn you back, but there’s plenty of time for that. I need to slow these guys down, Reba. My ships that turned around are just repositioning. Do you understand my meaning?”

It didn’t take her long to figure it out. “I’ve just manned the cruisers. I have ten frigates. Do you want them?”

“If you can provide gunners, I’ll take a frigate over a fighter any day.”

“I’ll check with Waverly.”

“Don’t spread him too thin. You know about the second battle that’s coming up. All the ships here came from Seeton, and we’re making that obvious. We want the Rebels to know who their next target is. We’re going to pull the enemy to him.”

She nodded grimly and cut the connection.

He turned to find Chandrajuski staring at him in amazement. M’Coda’s upper hands had moved to his antennae, and they were working overtime. “Where do you people come up with these ideas?” Chandrajuski asked.

“Hey, we’re new to all this. We don’t know the rules, so we make them up as we go. Got any ideas on how we’re going to use unattached cruisers and frigates?”

M’Coda answered, his upper hands still as he considered. “We assign one of Reba’s cruisers to each of our four inner squadrons. The additional cruiser will be treated as a frigate since the crews are not fully trained. With three of Reba’s squadrons remaining, we will pair two of them together, and the third will remain unattached, held in reserve.” His upper hands resumed a rapid preening of his two antennae. “This will be interesting, two cruisers paired together. No one knows their capabilities. We’ll call them super squadrons, eh?”

On paper, Trexler’s forces had increased from his original 16 cruisers to 23, but until they could study the performance of the newcomers, Reba’s cruisers would be treated as frigates. They were up against 37 fully functional Rebel squadrons. According to their simulations, the odds were very acceptable. There were no indications of Rebel reinforcements, but they could, of course, show up any time.

Trexler altered their normal tactics, but he considered it a minor change. His fleet’s sole focus would be Rebel cruisers. Enemy frigates would have to be addressed, but only minimally, and enemy fighters would be ignored until the cruisers had been dealt with. They were largely ineffective against his cruisers anyway.

He had no way of knowing if the Rebels had focused as intently on fleet tactics as his men had, but he suspected they had not. The Rebels’ secret weapon was the Chessori.

* * * * *

Reba’s ragged fleet of seven cruisers approached Trexler’s inner four squadrons, and a fighter came aboard each of her ships. Aboard Reba’s cruiser, the fighter disgorged a pilot, a gunner, an engineer, and thirty Empire crewmembers, most of them fairly senior. It had been standing room only on the fighter, but it had been a short flight for them.

Reba smiled when the new pilot joined her on the net. “They must be scraping the bottom of the barrel,” she said.

“Commander Sara Eaton reporting, My Lady.”

Reba remembered her from the interview process on Earth “So you have your own ship, a fighter?”

“No, I just borrowed this one. I’m a pilot on a cruiser.”

Reba blinked, figuratively. “Well! At least someone will know what’s going on here.”

“I’m not the only expert,” Sara replied. “We were told your ship had been through an internal battle, a culling, so I brought some senior Empire crewmembers. I also brought a Terran gunnery officer and an engineer. You’ll be as ship-shape as you can be in short order.”

Reba turned the ship over to Sara and went hunting through the net. The first person she found was Lieutenant Jerry Strauss, her new gunnery officer. He was already running simulations with the Raiders she had brought from Orion III.

She next found the engineer Sara had brought, Lieutenant Chuck Thoms. He was hard at work doing a complete acceptance check of the shields. A new Empire senior chief accompanied him, making notes of things that were not up to standard.

“How does it look, Lieutenant?” she asked.

“Fair. Some of the controls were damaged in the fighting. It might be a problem bringing spares on line. The Chief is working on a temporary fix. If it works, we’ll be able to run everything through the net, just not manually. I’ll let you know. The guns are next. As soon as we’re done with them, we’ll start checking our spare parts supply.”

“You can fix things during a battle?”

“No, Ma’am. Well . . . I could, but it takes too long to get from one place to another on these cruisers. Every gun and shield has a supply of spare parts that can be changed automatically. Unless you forget to load the spares, it works, but on your unmodified ships it doesn’t work all that well. An unmodified AI doesn’t like to change out a power supply until it’s exhausted. I’m not going to let it wait that long. I’ll give things a nudge here and there.”

“I like that idea.”

He shrugged. “We discovered right away during our training that none of these Empire cruisers were designed to take on another cruiser. Their purpose was mostly to show the flag, so we’re really abusing them. AI’s on the ships Admiral Trexler brought with him have been modified to change things earlier, so it’s mostly a matter of monitoring. Here, I’ll be busy.”

“Do you need help?” she asked.

“Keep an eye on me if you have time. Remember, we’ve never fought a real battle, so there are a lot of unknowns. If we encounter this scree I’ve heard about, I won’t have any back-up. I will be busy, and if I get overwhelmed, we could lose the ship.”

“Call me if you need help. Our primary focus is offense, but we can’t mount an offense if we’re dead, so your job is crucial to our defense. If you get overwhelmed, we’ll consider retreat.”

“Yes, Ma’am. That’s how it works.”

Reba went back to Sara. “You brought some good people. I’m feeling a lot better about things than I was. What’s my job?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. We’ve learned some things the hard way during training. Here’s how we staff a battle on a cruiser: one gunner for each battery, a gunnery control officer, an engineer, a pilot, and a captain/squadron commander.”

“That’s it?”

“Until we get more people, that’s it. Chandrajuski whittled us down to bare bones. This battle will let us know if it’s a mistake. So . . . I’m the pilot. My primary focus is to maneuver on our target. I’ll be coordinating my efforts with Schumacher, the pilot on our sister ship, and it’s intense.”

“Why don’t I pilot, and you command?”

Sara considered. Her thoughts went out through the ship to study the oncoming horde of Rebel/Chessori ships coming toward them, and Reba followed her thoughts through the net.

Sara reached a decision. “No. I’d like to. I’d really like to say I was a squadron commander, but the most demanding job here will be flying the ship. To win, we have to have guns on the target, as many guns as we can. We have to remain in an offensive posture for as long as we possibly can.”

“So what do I do?”

“You have two jobs. As squadron commander, you’re in charge of two ships. You focus on the big picture, and you carry out instructions from Trexler. That’s the easy part. As captain of this ship, your first priority is to monitor our defense. As pilot, I’m focused on offense, and I’m good at it, so you don’t have to worry about that, but I’ll do my job better if I know someone is keeping a tally on our health. We’re going to take hits, many of them. These battles are brutal: there will be damage. The AI will minimize it, but it’s a computer. You need to make sure we remain alive.

“We don’t have reinforcements to call on, and retreat is an iffy thing,” Sara emphasized. “Our opponents are just as fast as we are, so running away doesn’t work. If we need to retreat, call on Trexler for help.”

Sara’s virtual image stared at Reba through the net. “Can you do that?”

Reba nodded. “I can. I could use some training.”

“We all need to train together. We will, just as soon as Jerry and Chuck report ready. What do I need to know about this ship?”

“We’re operational as long as our fight is against Chessori. If our fight is against Empire sailors, we’ll have to retreat. Most of the senior crewmembers were killed or wounded during our fight to take the ship back from the Chessori. There’s no way we’ll compete against a fully operational Empire ship.”

“Well, I have a problem with that. We won’t know who we’re up against until we engage, and remember what I said about retreat. It is not a sure thing. Can we prepare ourselves to go up against a Rebel crew? I noticed there’s no Empire bridge crew here. That’s a first for me.”

“All killed. The squadron commander survived, but he’s wounded. We left him behind.”

“We still have a bare bones bridge crew,” Sara noted. “We’re adequate. We have one gunner for each battery. Do we have time to train Empire gunners? A full crew of them would be 120 plus whatever additional control officers they need. Surely not all of them were killed.”

Reba stared at her in amazement. “They weren’t, and you’re right. We can make this ship functional against whatever we run into. Brilliant!”

“Are the remains of the Empire crew on our side?”

“Good question. I think so, but we’ll take no chances. The door to the bridge will remain locked unless one of us has to go in or out.”

Sara spent hours running battle scenarios, bringing both sets of gun crews to a level of performance Reba had not achieved on her own. All the months of training at Parsons’ World had made a difference for the Terrans.

Reba smiled to herself despite the uncertainties before them. The outcome of the battle had been partly determined on Earth during the selection process. She and Trexler had chosen well. Terrans were going to show their value to everyone today.

* * * * *

The two of them stared out at the oncoming horde. Seven and one-half squadrons had the job of slowing down the approach of 37 enemy squadrons. They didn’t have to slow the enemy down very much, an hour would allow the rest of Trexler’s squadrons to catch up, but an hour of fighting between capital ships was an eternity, and the enemy had five squadrons to each of Reba’s.

Sara sensed Reba’s unease through the net, and she sensed the unease from the rest of her crew which was tied to her through the net. She directed a thought to all of them.

“Admiral Trexler knows. He won’t let us down. He has six fast squadrons that no one can see – their beacons are off. I’ll bet they’re nearby, ready to pounce after the first shot, and they are much more capable than the enemy knows. The real odds are four-to-one. We haven’t handled those odds before, but I think we can.”

She gave that statement a few heartbeats to sink in, then said, “I’m raising the bar. We’re not just going to slow them down. Let’s show these Rebels what we’re made of. I want us to take out all of them before the rest of our guys get here.”

Stunned thoughts flooded the net. She grinned. “Don’t think about 37 enemy squadrons. Think about 4, just the number 4. Our job is to take out 4 enemy squadrons. We have a two-cruiser combination to do it, not a cruiser-frigate. I’ve never seen a two-cruiser combination in action before, but neither has the enemy. We’re going to kick some butt today.”

* * * * *

A little while later, the Rebel/Chessori fleet split up. Fifteen squadrons continued inbound to battle Reba’s inner squadrons, and 22 reduced speed to meet the oncoming fleet of ten outer squadrons. Clearly, the Rebels did not see Trexler’s six fast squadrons.

Sara turned a beaming countenance to her crew. “We just won, guys,” she announced. “The odds are better than two-to-one, and I guarantee us a win. We won’t ease off, it’s still going to be a hard fight, but we’re going to shine. Be aggressive, not defensive.”

* * * * *

When the Rebels split up, Trexler grinned. They must be truly confident of the superiority of the scree. He said to Chandrajuski, “They just made a determining mistake. The battle is ours.”

The battle was his now. He ordered his inner squadrons back, delaying their attack. He wanted both of his battle groups to engage at the same time. He had no intention of letting either group of Rebels learn his tactics before they engaged. He assigned three fast squadrons to flank each of the Rebel groups. When the attack started, they would materialize beside their targets with complete surprise.

His job as fleet commander was just about over. He took command of the inner battle group and assigned a senior admiral to command the outer battle group.

To the Rebels, the approaching battle probably looked like a win. They had 37 squadrons against 17 squadrons of defenders, better than two to one odds, and they likely had the scree. Trexler had no doubt they felt confident. They didn’t know about his 6 invisible squadrons, and they didn’t know about the Terrans’ immunity to the scree.

Both of his battle groups approached the Rebels. Suddenly, the scree sounded. Trexler, was the only one left functioning in the operations center, and on the bridge, it would only be Terrans flying the ship. His lips formed into a thin smile: he had trained his men for exactly this. He no longer confronted fully manned Rebel ships – he was now up against limited crews of Chessori.

Chessori aboard the Rebel ships held their fire. Trexler notified all his ships to hold fire until the Chessori took the first shots. It looked to him like the Chessori were confident their scree had disabled the crews of his ships. Overconfidence by the enemy was a gift no commander would turn down.

* * * * *

Reba received orders from Trexler: previous target assignments were cancelled. She was to hold fire until the Chessori took their first shots. He expected the Chessori to merge with his ships before that happened. She was to take on the nearest enemy ship unless directed otherwise.

Sara ordered her sister cruiser in closer. It took the position normally occupied by a frigate. Since no one knew exactly how this new ship combination was going to work out, they would start with what they knew, and improvise as necessary.

Reba’s leg was on fire with Cassandra relegated to her lower left leg, but she had been through the scree for hours on end during her previous fighting and had learned to cope.

The Chessori neared, and her gunners held their fire, but the net practically sung with anxiety. Reba double-checked all her shields at full strength, and everything else was in order. The Chessori slowed, and the two fleets began to merge. An eerie, surreal sensation filled Reba as, through her senses on the net, she watched enemy ships sliding between the ships of her battle group. Still no word to open fire from Trexler, and the Chessori held their fire, moving into perfect firing positions.

Sara’s target changed, but no one needed to tell her. A Chessori squadron approached, and another stood off slightly. Sara passed the word: both ships in her squadron would engage the nearby squadron first, inflicting as much damage as they could before the second squadron moved in.

Guns on the enemy cruisers opened up, but almost lazily, as if the Chessori believed they had all the time in the world. The guns on Reba’s two cruisers exploded, sending a tremendous barrage of fire into the enemy cruiser that, clearly, was not prepared. The enemy cruiser did not just go dead in space – it exploded, completely disintegrating.

Fighting stopped for a moment. The crew was stunned, and so, apparently, were the attacking Chessori. Reba didn’t give her crew a chance to rejoice. She still had the other enemy cruiser and four frigates to deal with. “Shift target,” she ordered Sara.

Sara quickly brought her two cruisers into range of the second enemy cruiser. Meanwhile, Reba issued orders to her gunnery officer: “Those frigates are going to gang up on us. Your target is the cruiser, but keep an eye on defense.”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

She passed the same word to her sister ship, then began a quick assessment of her shields. She met her engineer doing the same.

“We’re solid, so far,” he informed her.

“It’s going to get harder. No breaks,” she ordered.

Back to the big picture: Sara was just engaging the enemy cruiser. It was two-to-one odds in her favor, but she had to contend with four frigates as well. Combined, those four frigates could mount a formidable offense.

Every gun on the ship barked continuously. Her batteries only had one gunner each, so all the guns in that battery fired on the same target. Most remained offensive, but the massed firepower of two batteries from each of Reba’s cruisers held the frigates at bay. A frigate’s shields simply had no chance against such barrages.

“Bang!” sounded through the net. A shield had been penetrated with a direct hit on the hull. Reba raced to check, but the hull had not been breached. Sara clung to her target, as did her sister ship. A moment later, “Screech!” from a glancing hit on the hull. Her guns kept up a constant pounding.

As bad as it was, Reba knew it had to be worse on the enemy cruiser.

Suddenly, “Bang!” The whole ship shook. Number 7 battery exploded out into space, opening a major hull breach. Reba raced to check on it, but her engineer was already there.

“The AI has it under control,” he said. “I could use some help with the shields.”

“I’ll take forward,” she said. She didn’t wait for a response. She checked in with the gunnery officer, but he had already reassigned the gunner from the destroyed battery to another battery.

“Bang!” again. Reba raced through the net, giving the AI a push now and then as shields became dangerously weakened. “Screech!” Another glancing blow. Reba focused on the big picture again. Her ship’s readiness numbers were acceptable, and so were the numbers of her sister ship. The Chessori cruiser was not doing so well. Its numbers indicated less than 80% shields and 40% guns.

It gave up the fight and turned tail.

Sara’s cheer of victory echoed throughout the web as her fist pumped the air. “Yee-ha!”

Her body, normally sprawled in her seat, even sat up straight, leaning forward to urge the ship faster. “Stay on it,” she yelled to her sister ship. Batteries from both ships opened up on the stern of the fleeing enemy. With so much firepower striking in one place, it’s shields quickly overloaded. The Chessori cruiser exploded violently rather than simply dying, just as its partner had.

Sara chose new targets, the frigates. They knew they had no chance and fled instantly, splitting up in different directions.

Reba put in a call to Trexler for a new target. While she waited to get through, she studied the big picture. Every single enemy cruiser was either dead or close to it. Numerous enemy frigates raced around, almost aimlessly, seeming intent on avoiding contact with the more powerful cruisers. Her own squadron chased down another frigate and took it out in moments.

Suddenly, Trexler came on, speaking to all squadrons. “Disengage. Let the survivors go.”

An anguished cry escaped from Sara. “Nooo! We’re just getting warmed up! Let’s show them what we’re made of.” Angry shouts of agreement from the rest of the crew raced through the net.

Reba agreed with them, but this was Trexler’s show. “Uh, I think we just did,” she announced to everyone.

* * * * *

The battle, as seen by Trexler aboard his flagship, was less personal. The fast ships, invisible until just before attacking, stood off from their foes, pounding away without mercy, the reach of their weapons keeping them out of serious danger. The Chessori responded by ganging up on them with two-to-one odds, but the fast ships held their own, the stronger shields and longer range weapons making all the difference. Trexler did not see any of them skip away with micro jumps. His own ship’s weapons pounded away without a break, but he never felt the ship stagger from a hard hit.

Performance of the seven super squadrons stunned him. Chessori cruisers fell to the awesome firepower unleashed against them, not simply going dead, but dying in violent explosions. The super squadrons quickly picked up new targets and started pounding away again. Additional Chessori cruisers and frigates ganged up on them, but the super squadrons were then able to use all their weapons, not just those facing a single attacker. They defended themselves while jointly taking out one Chessori cruiser at a time.

The Chessori fell back against these formidable opponents, and the super squadrons chased after them, annihilating them.

Twenty minutes after the battle started, the Chessori were down to one on one odds. After that, they had no hope. When the last cruiser fell, the rest of the attackers abandoned the battle, scattering and fleeing away from the planet.

When Trexler ordered his ship to disengage, his own squadron commander came to him with fire in his eyes. “We can get them, Ray. Let’s at least go after the frigates.”

“Jay, our job is done here. We want their survivors to take a message back with them. We want Struthers to know Aldebaran I is his next battle. Nice job by the way. I don’t think any of our fast ships gave away our secret.”

“We never needed to. They know about our improved weapons, and they know we can function despite the scree, but they don’t know about our dancing capabilities.”

The scree faded quickly, and the Empire operations staff, having suffered from the scree for many hours, struggled to get to their feet. His tactical channels were all active, squadron commanders all calling for his attention, but he answered the tight beam from Reba’s cruiser first.

She was out of the net, strands of red hair hanging loose, damp with perspiration from her fighting. They stared at each other for a time, but words were inadequate: a great battle had just been won, the first sector headquarters restored to the Queen, and the Terrans had proven their value. Mike’s plan to bring Terrans to the Empire was right! The battle for Orion III was over.

“Did we lose a single ship, Ray?”

He checked his status board again. Most were green, a couple of dozen were amber, and a few fighters were red. Some were missing. When he looked up at her, he said, “Sixteen fighters. No capital ships.”

A silence held for a long time, then Reba straightened. “Your orders, sir?”

He smiled. “I’m done giving orders for a while. It’s Chandrajuski’s show again.”

“Korban needs to know.”

“That’s a call I’m sure Chandrajuski will want to make. You can let Waverly know.”

“You’re his commanding officer, Ray.”

“Give him a call, Reba. You’ve earned it. I want to have a few words with my squadrons before Chandrajuski gets his act together. Prepare to move back to Orion III, just in case these guys decide to return.”

She raised her hand, palm out, with fire in her eyes. “Aye, aye, sir.” Trexler raised his hand and pushed it toward her, the equivalent of an interspace high-five.

* * * * *

Three tired but elated admirals retired to Chandrajuski’s private office aboard the cruiser. Trexler threw himself onto a couch and stared at Chandrajuski who looked, as always, like he was poised to flee, or on second thought, poised to attack. To Trexler, the Gamordian never looked relaxed, but he sensed calmness in the admiral at the moment. M’Coda’s head was lifted into a position Trexler had come to recognize as his favorite preening position, with his eight lower hands on the floor and his two upper hands cleaning old smells from his antennae, making room for new smells. With his multifaceted eyes that took in whatever was around him, M’Coda didn’t need to face anyone in particular, but he faced toward Trexler. That meant he, Trexler, was likely the focus of M’Coda’s thoughts at the moment.

“We’ve learned a few things today,” Chandrajuski said. “M’Coda and I were out of the picture for most of it, and we’ll have to review recordings later, but something extraordinary happened. We defeated the largest enemy force in the history of Empire without the loss of a single capital ship. Talk to me, Ray.”

“The lesson learned today is that we, as leaders, failed in our most fundamental task: tactics.”

“You define a great victory as a failure?”

Trexler smiled. “Let’s call it an awakening. We’ve spent months and months refining a complex ballet of multiple ship squadrons, which we refer to as our basic fighting units, and the time’s been wasted.”

“You’re talking about the fighters.”

He nodded. “They’re history, Admiral, a waste of our time, energy, and resources. They’re the perfect sword to use against smugglers, which is essentially the only fighting the Empire has done for a long time, but they’re useless in battles of this scale. It’s time to park them, or better yet, send them to the Rebels. Let them waste their resources on manning them.”

“They have a long history of success.”

“And they will again, but not until the Empire is back to normal. Their weapons are puny, effective only against ships their own size. They only serve to distract.”

“Against cruisers, I agree. Enough of them can be a serious deterrent to a frigate.”

“I’ll trade you two frigates and all the fighters for one more cruiser,” Trexler stated. “And we’ve structured our crews all wrong. In the fighters alone, we have some 36 Terran officers in each squadron, each of whom is capable of piloting. We have another 20 or so Terran gunners on each frigate and cruiser. I hired pilots on Earth, but most of them have become gunners. Reba’s Raiders, with only a little training, were nearly as effective as our gunners. And she only had one pilot on each cruiser. Those are the keys, gentlemen. We have dozens and dozens of cruisers and frigates sitting idle because I don’t have enough men and women to pilot them. Reba’s cruisers were effective, and the guns were operated by the infantry.”

“You can’t send a cruiser out with just one pilot,” M’Coda said softly.

“I know. Today was a fluke – the fighting didn’t last long, but even with two or three pilots on each cruiser, we can increase our capital ships ten-fold. Easily. We just have to bring in more gunners, and I know just where to find an unlimited supply of them. I don’t even need trained soldiers. Youngsters experienced with video games would be just as effective, if not more effective.”

“Surely you won’t draft your children,” Chandrajuski said, leaning away from Trexler.

“To survive, I wouldn’t hesitate, but it’s not necessary. Earth has a vast pool of adults and young adults that would jump at the chance to go into space. We’ve been quietly interviewing officers, when it turns out we already have enough of them. We need to refocus our efforts.”

He grinned. “Wait until you see the recordings of the battle. Our fast ships were stunning, and the super squadrons . . . well, it’s humbling what two cruisers acting in concert can do.”

He looked deeply into Chandrajuski’s eyes. “Your engineers will have to study the recordings to see if I’m right, but I have the strong impression that it was not the Rebel guns that these super squadrons overwhelmed. It’s more like they overwhelmed the electrical systems of the cruisers. The shields just couldn’t keep up with the multiple, hard hits, and when they failed, the ships were torn apart. It happened so quickly that I suspect most of their guns were still operational when the ships blew.”

Chandrajuski’s head swung toward M’Coda, and M’Coda turned to face him, his upper hands idle for the moment.

M’Coda stated what was on both of their minds. “The Rebels, too, will study the recordings. If they adopt similar tactics, we will lose the advantage. In the long term, we might have to look at installing additional power plants on the ships in order to provide a reserve of power to the shields. In the short term, we might want to consider diverting power from non-essential systems.”

“If I’m right, gentlemen,” Trexler interceded, “we might want to consider diverting power from essential systems, as well. Do we need functioning lights and doors during a battle? Do we even need air conditioning? I don’t know, but everything needs to be looked at by experts. And ideally, we need computer programs that make it happen automatically. I can’t expect my pilots to have to worry about the air conditioning during a battle.”

Chandrajuski nodded, his great head moving up and down minutely. “We can do all that, and we will.” His gaze focused on Trexler again. “You frighten me, Ray.” Trexler raised his eyebrows in a question, and Chandrajuski continued. “In you and Reba and Mike, I see warriors. I’ve always considered myself to be a warrior, but I see now that I’ve been more of a policeman than a true warrior. It’s a struggle trying to keep up with you.”

“Policeman maybe, but a more apt term might be peacekeeper. You’ve spent a career keeping the peace, and I hope I can join you in that effort when this is all over. For the moment, our job is not to keep the peace but to wage war. Lots of people, good people, died out here today, and many more are going to die before we’re done. It’s a sad business, this killing, and I take no enjoyment from it. We are not heroes, we’re businessmen executing a business plan. It just so happens that our business plan entails killing the enemy in the most efficient way possible.

“But never forget: we’re just ingredients in the recipe. The master chef is the Queen. Her job is to mix us with the other ingredients to create a finished product that is peace restored. Then the killing will end.”

“She has been the key all along. Our efforts have not lost sight of that,” Chandrajuski said.

“They can’t. We will prosecute our business plan, but we in this room can never lose sight of the finished product. I’m certain she won’t let us, either.”

“So we focus on new strategies. The cruiser has become our first line of offense,” Chandrajuski said. “We’ll see to new tactics, and we must see to improvements to the ships to make them more survivable.”

Trexler nodded. “Mike is way ahead of us on that, but his plan is just getting started.”

“He has a plan?”

“He does. He’s asked Serge to explore the possibility of creating a large number of tiny little ships. The ships would only have a crew of three or four, and they might only carry one or two guns, but each gun would be as powerful as a gun on a cruiser. These tiny ships would be exceedingly hard to target, making them much more survivable.”

Chandrajuski considered for a time, then turned to M’Coda who said, “We’d be back to the shortage of pilots, but if development is far off, we have time to work on the issue. We should direct our thoughts to the coming battle at Aldebaran I, and we have to figure out how to secure Orion III against counter attack. We’re suddenly back to the issue of resources, or lack thereof.

“After this defeat, they will have to delay the next attack,” Chandrajuski continued, thinking out loud. “They lost considerable resources, resources that I suspect cannot be quickly replaced, and they need to reconsider tactics just as we do. I believe we have a little breathing room.”

“It’s also likely that they have only a limited number of trained Chessori crews,” M’Coda agreed.

“In which case we can recruit more gunners from Earth and spread our pilots out to more cruisers. Then we can begin the process of creating new and better tactics.”

Trexler leaned back on the couch to let them work out the details, but the more he thought about it, the more he questioned the underlying assumptions. What if they were wrong? What if they didn’t have a lot of time before the next battle?

He considered a plan of action based on that assumption, then spoke up. “You’re looking at it the way a policeman would look at it. You’re trying to get all your ducks in a row before you break the door down and rush in. Will you consider the thoughts of a warrior?”

Chandrajuski and M’Coda both stopped talking and turned to face him. M’Coda’s upper hands were still for a change.

“Do you have any paper, and something to write with?” he asked Chandrajuski. “I’d like to make notes on this that we can review later.”

Chandrajuski spoke with his gaze never leaving Trexler. “Ship, record.”

“Okay, I guess that’ll have to do,” Trexler said, “though I sort of prefer paper and pen for this.” He held his arms out wide. “We have a lot of experience with major conflicts on Earth. Time and time again, two items stand out that have the most impact on winning or losing. First: supplies and resources. Second: mistakes at the highest levels of command. Compared to the Rebels, who can draw ships and crews from all over this vast Empire of yours, we’re exceedingly short on resources.”

M’Coda’s upper hands began a new, refreshing preening. “Their Chessori resources are probably limited.”

“What if they’re not?”

M’Coda’s upper hands paused for a moment, then resumed, moving faster.

Trexler turned to Chandrajuski. “Mistake one?”

Chandrajuski’s eyes blinked once, but he remained silent.

Trexler leaned back in the couch again. “It just so happens that I agree with you that the Chessori resource could be limited, but it might not be. Now for an observation: you and the Rebels all think alike to a large extent. You’ve attended the same schools and seminars, probably sat side by side with some of them. You’re likely to approach fighting with similar ideas and tactics, yes?”

Chandrajuski nodded his head but said nothing, so Trexler continued. “I think it likely that we have an advantage in this area, because the Rebels have, we believe, focused on getting their Chessori counterparts up to speed, and they’ve relied on the scree instead of developing tactics. We, on the other hand, have focused intense effort on how best to duke it out with them. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Ray.”

“I wish I knew who was running the show for them, because this next concept is critical. They just lost a major battle, and they lost horribly. They ran with their tails between their legs. When those ships get home in a couple of months, the top commander, or commanders, are going to be embarrassed. And, these commanders are new to their jobs and trying to prove themselves. A wise commander might choose to sit back and think about what happened, dissect the battle and come up with changes to his operations, then implement those changes, which would take a while.

“Depending on the character and stability of the commander, though, he could just as easily fly into a rage and decide to attack us right away. He’d have to use the same or similar tactics that we just saw here, but if he committed overwhelming resources to the next battle, it might produce a better outcome for him. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

M’Coda turned from Trexler to pace the room in thought. Chandrajuski, likewise, stared at him, but his thoughts were not on Trexler. They were on the words Trexler had spoken.

After a time, Chandrajuski said, “Juster, the Queen’s brother, commands the Rebel fleets. I know him well. He is clever, decisive, and thoughtful. I believe he will choose his next course with careful calculation. Juster reports to Struthers, the old First Knight. I know him less well, but to his credit, he planned and executed the coup masterfully. I think he, too, will resort to cold calculation.”

“Okay. Let me throw one more item into the pot. We feel the pressure of time only as it relates to stopping them or slowing them down. They, on the other hand, feel the pressure of time as it relates to accomplishing. They’re under pressure to act, to convince the rest of the Empire that they are not only in charge, but that they are successfully in charge. How will that weigh in their deliberations?”

“The pressure on them will be fierce,” Chandrajuski answered.

He thought for a time, then said, “The issue comes back to whether the Chessori supporters are limited in number. Certainly, the Rebel ability to train Chessori is unlimited, but how well have the Chessori taken to the training? I believe their whole species has come to rely on the scree, and I suspect they do not feel the need to learn tactics. Certainly, we saw no great tactics here. You or I would have prosecuted the attack from their perspective much differently.”

“I agree completely with that observation. Regardless of the training given the Chessori, they do not appear to have soaked it up. So, back to the issue of a Rebel response. What would you do if you were in Juster’s shoes?”

“I am in Juster’s shoes, and you’ve reminded me that I have to take politics into consideration, and at a level I am unaccustomed to. Sector politics are much, much different that Empire politics. I would give even odds on Juster waiting or acting immediately. When I factor in the pressure on him from Struthers, who is himself under intense pressure to convince the Empire, I would lean towards Juster moving with some swiftness.”

“Let’s take it one step further,” Trexler encouraged. “We’re fairly confident he’s going to come to Aldebaran I. How will he structure his attack?”

“If he waits, he’ll have time to study and duplicate the tactics used by us here. If he chooses to move quickly, he’ll have to stick with present tactics. It takes time to train fleets.”

“But those tactics didn’t work.”

“They would have if he had the resources to overwhelm us. He will next time, if they’re available.”

“They’re available,” M’Coda spoke up from across the room. He turned from the corner he’d ended up facing as he’d worked through possibilities in his mind, his head pointed toward Chandrajuski. “You won’t be on the side lines this time, Admiral. You’re going to get your opportunity to fight. He’ll bring the Chessori, but as a separate fleet. Most of his fleet will consist of pure, unadulterated Empire crews untouched by Chessori. Those are his real resources, and from our perspective they are truly unlimited.”

“Let me throw you one more curve ball, Admiral,” Trexler added. “We’ve focused so much on training my men that we’ve neglected to train yours. They know how to function as squadrons, but do they know how to function as a fleet?”

Chandrajuski’s eyes blinked slowly. His great chest swelled, then deflated. “Have I failed my Queen?”

“No, you have not. We’re all learning as we go, but it’s time to revise our plan. We must be swift, and we must be right. We don’t have a moment to lose.”

* * * * *

Reba didn’t even get to say goodbye to Val. A fast fighter came aboard her cruiser, picked her up, and headed to Earth with orders from Chandrajuski: Buskin was to bring all of his capital ships to Aldebaran I. Earth would be left only with fighters, but it would only be for a short time. Reba would accompany Buskins crews to Aldebaran I, teaching them the new tactics on the way.

Val took a fast fighter to Parsons’ World. Training there was over. Facilities were to be shut down, and all available ships and crews were to proceed to Aldebaran I. Mike would have to decide how many resources should remain behind to protect the planet and the Queen. Admiral Jons was to transfer as much of his manufacturing operations to Earth as he could, if he had not already done so in the months the fleet had been gone. Serge would have a big say in what resources he was prepared to part with.

Korban was stripped of all capital ships, with the exception of two frigates. It was a terrible decision to have to make, but Chandrajuski was adamant. Korban would have to pull in ships from his districts to restore his fleet, and he was loaned a fast fighter to do so. Too, he was to pull as many capital ships from his districts as possible and send them to Aldebaran I. Colonel Waverly grudgingly left behind a platoon of fifty men to guard against a return of the Chessori, and he would do his best to send raw recruits from Earth to bolster the tiny force. It would be a grim, worrisome time for Korban and his men.

Waverly and his senior staff boarded a fast frigate and headed to Aldebaran I. It was time for Seeton to make his move there, and it would be best if he did so prior to the main battle out in space. Until he made his move, Chandrajuski’s forces could not enter the system. If they did, any hope of surprise for Waverly’s men would be lost.

Seventeen slow cruisers left Orion III on their long voyage to Aldebaran I. Chandrajuski and M’Coda went with them. During the voyage, they were to develop modifications to the AI’s that would divert power from nonessential systems to the shields, and they would develop whatever new tactics would be used against the Rebels.

Chapter Twenty-four

Trexler waited a full month at Orion III with the five fast squadrons, just in case of a counter-attack, but at the end of that month he lost patience and departed, leaving one extra fast fighter behind that could quickly call for help if needed.

Waverly’s men had used the time to rest and recuperate from wounds under the incredible medical care available from Empire physicians. Trexler carried nearly 800 Raiders, all battle hardened and experienced survivors of the fighting that had taken place at Orion III.

Four of the five squadrons stopped one jump short of the Aldebaran system. Surprise was a key element of Waverly’s tactics, and the arrival of a small fleet would create far too much attention at the governor’s office. Trexler’s own heavy squadron dropped from hyper on the outskirts of Aldebaran I and reverted to normal speed, then reported in to ground controllers. They were cleared in routinely: they were, after all, originally Seeton’s ships and purportedly just returning from assignment in an outlying district.

Seven other squadrons were scattered here and there throughout the system in no discernable pattern. He studied the designators on his display and was surprised to discover that these ships were well known to him. He tight beamed the closest squadron. In short order, one of his senior Terran admirals, a full fleet admiral, came on the line.

“Hi, Ray.”

“Sam, I take it you’re in charge here, at least of the Terran forces. How goes it?”

“Quiet, though there’s a tremendous amount of Chessori traffic, and it’s been increasing.”

“Hmm. Are all of you updated?”

“Some. All have at least the quick fix.”

Trexler considered. Before leaving Parsons World months earlier, they had discussed an abbreviated program that would quickly provide micro jumping capability and stronger shields without the time consuming retrofit to stronger weapons. The program must have been put into effect.

“Okay. I’m sending a shuttle over with orders and some new information for you to consider. I have a delivery to make on the ground, then I’ll head back this way and we can get together to discuss things.”

The orders he sent to Sam Taylor included a description of the new tactics of super squadrons discovered at Orion III. The tactics might or might not come into play here at Aldebaran I, but he wanted the squadrons to be familiar with the process. They couldn’t openly practice the maneuvers, but they could practice them in the simulators aboard the cruisers. Sam was directed to pick up Chandrajuski as soon as he arrived: Chandrajuski would need to transfer his flag to a fast ship. The ground battle would likely begin within a few days of them all getting situated.

Sam Taylor’s shuttle brought encouraging word. Reba and Buskin had just arrived and were waiting one short jump away with 53 cruisers sent from Earth. It was all the cruisers Buskin had. Gunners had been drafted, primarily from navy ships from a number of different countries. All were new to space, but they had received training during the voyage. Buskin had left all his frigates, fighters, and Great Cats on Earth. One conversion facility was up and running, Serge’s technicians were training local electricians and craftsmen, and to date, seven frigates there had been converted to fast ships. He had not managed to convert any of the cruisers. One fast frigate was stationed on the outskirts of Earth’s system, its purpose to quickly bring a call for help if needed.

Trexler considered the plan with pursed lips – Buskin had been ordered to send all capital ships, and frigates were classed as capital ships. He probably had 60 or 70 frigates, and they could shift the balance here. Why had he held them back? And he had sent none of the Great Cats, which meant the ships he sent would not be as capable as needed.

He knew Buskin fairly well, and what he’d done just didn’t make sense. Buskin knew the battle at Aldebaran I would demand all the Queen’s forces, including the Great Cats. Trexler dispatched one of his own fast fighters to Earth with clarification orders: Buskin was to send the frigates and the Great Cats.

Sam’s message also informed him that all the ships stationed at Parsons’ World were on the way to Aldebaran I, and there were a lot of them. Veswicki’s contacts with other sector commanders had netted 78 squadrons, an impressive number garnered from far flung districts that, so far as they knew, had not raised any eyebrows among the Rebels. Of those, 27 had received the quick upgrade and were already in position one jump outside the system. The rest would arrive soon. Only five of the fast squadrons were manned with Terrans. There were simply no more Terrans to be had at the moment. Serge had agreed to provide his own protection for Parsons’ World, and Trexler suspected his traders were up to the task.

He considered the five fast squadrons manned by Terrans. If all five had come, that meant that Ellie’s squadron was among them. Where was she, and how well protected was she? He didn’t know.

He did the math: 160 cruisers, and 68 of them manned by Terran crews, most of them untested in battle. He called Sam Taylor. “This is going to be a real management problem.”

“It is. I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and we’ve been running simulations. I wish we could speak freely, but we can’t yet.”

“No. Not yet. As soon as I make my drop-off, I’ll join you. Until then, you’re in charge out here.”

“The big boss will be here soon.”

“Sam, he’ll need time. You’ve had what . . . weeks to think about this? We’re going to lean heavily on you.”

“Initial action scenarios are the most critical, and I’m prepared. Once things get heated up, it’s all going to be on the fly. There’s no way to plan for that, and I’m not trying.”

“You’re right. Let me be blunt. How are we going to distinguish the ships manned by Chessori.”

“Our special ships are going to get a hard work-out. They’ll be first-in.”

They stared at each other. “They can’t be wrong,” Trexler stated softly, thinking about what would happen to Empire crews if they tried to take on the Chessori. They’d be sitting ducks, with no chance of fighting back.

“There will be mistakes. We’re going to take losses, Ray. That’s the nature of the beast.”

Trexler nodded. “Do me a favor. Get creative.”

“Aye, aye, sir. We’ll start with a clean sheet of paper and see what we come up with.”

“Start with this: park the fighters. Reassign the Terran pilots and gunners to cruisers. If you have enough, spread them out among the frigates. We learned a few things at Orion III. Capital ships are the key. Think about it, Stu, and we’ll talk more when I join you.”

* * * * *

Two frigates, stuffed to the gills with Reba’s Raiders, landed on Aldebaran I while the rest of the squadron remained in a stationary orbit far above the port.

Seeton had made arrangements for Waverly’s men. They were to disembark from the two frigates over a period of many hours so as not to arouse suspicion. Trexler was first off, and he made his way to Seeton’s headquarters, escorted by three sergeants and a lieutenant, all wearing side arms but without assault weapons. Carrying assault weapons would, again, have been completely out of the ordinary. His escort waited outside the Sector Headquarters building while he went in.

Seeton’s office was huge. He greeted Trexler with a tight smile and outstretched hand. “Colonel Waverly has told me all about you. I hope you’re as successful here as you were with Korban.”

“There are a lot of unknowns, obviously. We have no idea of Rebel numbers or dispositions. You probably know there are a lot more of us out there than you can see.”

“I do, and I only just learned of your suspicions that a lot of Rebels will show up without Chessori. I wish I’d known sooner. I’ve pulled in a number of squadrons from my districts. I’ll join them before things get started here on the ground.”

Trexler raised his eyebrows. “I thought you would focus on the ground effort.”

“What good will I be here? As soon as Jim gets started, the scree will take me out. I’ve had a long time to get ready for this, and I haven’t been idle.”

“Hmm. How much of our plan do you know?”

“Darn little, and I’m not pleased about it. This is my sector, you know.”

“You’re right, sir. We’ve done you a disservice, and I apologize. We’re learning as we go. We’ll do better next time.”

“We’re all learning. I hope the learning curve is steep and in the right direction. Truth be told, until today it was my understanding that my ships would be useless against the Chessori. I only pulled them together in case our plan failed. You probably know that our fallback position has always been to leave with as many assets as we could gather together, to join with Buskin to fight another day.”

“Uh, how many have you pulled together? Surely you couldn’t know the timing of this battle.”

“The approximate timing was not difficult to figure out. I sent out orders months ago. They’re here, though they believe their only purpose is to flee.”

“How many, Admiral?”

“All of them. I’m leaving nothing behind for Struthers.”

“How many is all of them?”

“673.”

“Ships?”

“Squadrons.”

Trexler felt the blood rushing to his face, and his legs suddenly felt weak. He reached behind him for a chair and sat down.

“You’re talking about more than 8,000 ships?”

Seeton nodded and sat down behind his desk. Waverly took another chair.

“I wish we’d known,” Trexler mumbled to himself. Lifting his gaze to Seeton, he said, “It’s a gift. We need to get them trained. Does our fleet commander know about these ships? They were not included in my briefing.”

“He does not. Remember, my purpose for gathering them together was to flee if you fail here against the Chessori. But what training do they need? They’re already trained. They’re fully operational squadrons, Admiral.”

“Unless you’ve been doing some special training, they’re not trained to fight a battle of this scale.”

Seeton stared at him. “Perhaps not. Chandrajuski knows our skills and limitations. He’ll provide direction.”

“He’ll have to. We’ll need to get word to him as soon as he arrives.”

“I have a courier in position to reach my ships with just one short jump. It just needs to know if they should flee or fight.”

“How are they positioned?”

“They’re all together. It’s probably the largest massing of ships in the history of Empire.”

Trexler stared at the ceiling in contemplation. “This could seriously change our battle plans. Where and when your ships come into the system needs to be considered. It’s going to be real confusing for a while. We might want them to wait, but they’re slow ships; they can’t wait too long. We have to somehow sort out the Chessori-manned ships from purely Rebel ships before committing them. I’ll get started on it as soon as I’m done here.” He turned to Waverly. “What do you need from me?”

“There are a lot of Chessori ground troops here, Ray, and there are a lot of Chessori ships. Seven are in port here, there are dozens spread around the planet at other ports, and there are lots more of them in space. I need them taken out.”

“I met with a Chessori trader at Orion III. He claims they’re not all bad.”

“Reba set our rules of engagement early on in the battle at Orion III, sir. They’re simple: so long as the scree is sounding, all Chessori, armed or not, will be killed on sight. We learned it the hard way, trust me. I need to know that’s how you’ll operate. I’ll have enough to deal with without having to worry about Chessori reinforcements.”

“Agreed. What’s your plan?”

Trexler learned that Seeton had strategically hidden caches of food, water, heavy weapons, and medical supplies for the Raiders. They would not have to carry supplies on their backs, a matter of great significance to soldiers on foot. Entry codes for every facility on the planet had been provided to Waverly, and every armory and gun emplacement at every port would be locked. The Chessori would not have access to those codes.

Seeton’s door opened as the briefing was in progress, and his executive officer stuck his head in. “The governor is on his way, sir. He’s accompanied by Admiral Hogri and three Chessori.”

Seeton’s eyes narrowed, and the two of them stared at each other. The man nodded his head. “I think they beat us to the starting line, sir.”

“I think you’re right. Activate the plan.” He turned to Waverly. “Are your men ready?”

“Not even close, sir. Most are still aboard ship, and they’re sitting ducks. If your confidence level is high, I’m going to speed things up.”

“Your plan wasn’t based on starting operations at the port, but it’s time, my friend.” Waverly turned away and began issuing urgent orders over his communicator. Seeton turned calmly to Trexler. “If they’re really making their move, this will be coordinated with the nearby Chessori traders. This could be timed with the enemy fleet’s entry into the system, as well. I’m afraid you’re stuck here for a while. It’ll be too dangerous for you to get back to your ship.”

Trexler reached for his own communicator, but Seeton reached out a hand to stop him. “It’s all taken care of, Admiral. My staff is alerting the squadrons as we speak. They know what to do.”

“It’s Waverly’s men I’m concerned about.” He called one of the frigates and spoke to the captain. “Tom, you’ll be under attack in moments. Get out of here.”

“We’ve unloaded less than half of the Raiders, sir.”

“The rest will have to wait. Every one of those Chessori ships at the port is armed, and it looks like the attack is beginning right now.”

“In that case, we’ll boogey. I’ll stay in touch, sir.”

“Let the squadron know, and get them moving in. They’re to take out every Chessori ship on the planet, and they might as well get started on those in space, as well. Every Chessori ship, understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

Seeton’s executive officer opened the door again. This time he left it open. “They’re in the building, sir.” He passed out three blasters, then turned and left. Seeton calmly buckled his on. Waverly, communicator still to his mouth, became a contortionist as he belted his own on. He checked the charge and left the flap open on the holster. Trexler followed his example, but he had never held a blaster in his hand before.

“How do I fire it?”

Seeton couldn’t help grinning. “All that firepower at your beck and call, and you’ve never fired a blaster? Amazing. Here’s the safety, and it’s off. Just point it, squeeze the handle here, that’s a second safety, and squeeze the button under your index finger.” He moved a visitor’s chair to each corner of the room adjacent to the door and motioned Trexler to sit. Waverly was still on his communicator.

“Jim,” he said, “It’s time. Have a seat, and I have a small favor to ask each of you.” Waverly signed off and put his communicator back in his pocket. “I hear this scree is pretty bad. There’s a stunner in my bottom drawer. Would you be kind enough to use it on me and my men if it comes to that?”

He stood up as footsteps sounded just beyond the door. Two men followed by three Chessori walked directly to his desk, not even sparing a glance into the two corners behind them. Did they even know Seeton had visitors?

The man in uniform spoke first. “You’re relieved, Admiral Seeton, and you’re under arrest. I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment, and I must say, it’s a pleasure.”

“I don’t recognize your authority to relieve or arrest me,” Seeton said, sitting down and leaning back in his chair.

“It’s by my order,” the governor said.

Seeton placed his hands across his stomach. “That’s why I don’t recognize his authority. You’re not a legitimate governor, and you never will be. Both of you are a disgrace.”

A miniblaster was suddenly in the hand of Admiral Hogri, and it was pointed at Seeton. “Hand your weapon over, Harry. Carefully, with two fingers.”

Colonel Waverly spoke up from the corner. “I’d suggest you reconsider, Admiral.” Hogri and the governor both whirled to face him. Waverly’s blaster was pointed at Hogri.

“Who are you?” Hogri demanded.

“Possibly the last person you will ever set eyes on. Set your weapon on the table, sir, and while you’re at it, you might want to tell your Chessori friends that if I hear the scree . . . ”

He never got to finish his sentence. The scree started up, and Seeton, Hogri, and the governor collapsed. Waverly stared hard at the three unarmed Chessori, his blaster pointed at them. “Want to reconsider, my little friends?”

The minor buzzing in Trexler’s head faltered, then came back. Waverly didn’t hesitate. The sound of the blaster in the office was deafening. Trexler didn’t hesitate, either. He stunned Seeton, then moved out into the office to stun the rest of Seeton’s staff. Waverly came up with handcuffs from somewhere and handcuffed Hogri and the governor, then dragged them out of the office and handcuffed them to a stairwell guard rail. He went to a wall cabinet and pulled out a case of grenades and an armful of assault weapons. “Let’s go, sir.”

“We can’t leave Seeton. This place will be one of their first objectives.”

“Are you going to carry him? It’ll be ugly out there.”

“I’ll carry him as far as I can.” Seeton was not a large man, but Trexler was tall and spare: muscles had never been an important part of his job. Nevertheless, he got Seeton into a fireman’s carry and staggered out of the office behind Waverly.

They met up with Waverly’s four men huddling inside the front entrance. Waverly passed out weapons and grenades, they held a brief consultation, then Waverly came back to him.

“We’re moving out. About half of my guys are on the ground at the port. We’re going to work our way toward them.”

“I’m just a grunt here, out of my element, but can we hold the building? We know what the Chessori do to the men they find, and there’s probably a lot of sensitive information in here. Seeton wasn’t expecting this. I doubt if his guys had time to destroy much.”

“I’d like to, sir, but this will be a prime target. There’s no way six guys can hold it.”

“What if we got some help from my ships? And it’s got a big roof. Maybe we can bring a ship in to the roof and unload your guys there.”

“I’d love to, but that frigate isn’t a helicopter. Your guys are pretty new to this spaceship stuff. Is it possible?”

“Depends on what’s on the roof, how close the ship can get. We don’t want broken legs.”

“Get on the horn and see what support you can get. I’ll check out the roof.”

He detailed the lieutenant to check the roof, then sent a sergeant back into the building while Trexler spoke with his frigate. “Tom, did you guys make it out?”

“We did, sir, but we took some hits. Nothing serious. The rest of the squadron will be here in an hour or two, maybe sooner. They’re bulling their way through a bunch of Chessori traders. It’s not much of a contest, the Chessori are pretty thin-skinned, but there are a lot of them, and we can’t leave any behind us – if we did, they’d be free to work on Waverly’s guys. Our goal is to clear the port so we can finish our delivery and pick you up.”

“I’m in the sector headquarters building. We’re thinking about trying to hold it, but there’s only six of us. We’ll need some help. Once we’re secure, I want you to try to drop your Raiders off on the roof.”

“Okay. I’ll get started back.”

“Tom, you’re not an attack vessel, you’re a troop carrier for the moment. You can’t take any chances with your passengers. Send someone else.”

“Uh, sir, there are a lot of Chessori out here. They’re lifting from all over the planet and heading this way. We’re only one squadron at the moment.”

“Pass the word, then. The gloves are off. Another squadron can fast ship in.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” Trexler couldn’t see the grin on Tom’s face, but he could sense it.

It was surprisingly calm, Trexler thought to himself as he waited. He was huddled next to Waverly who was on his communicator. He quickly got bored and slid sideways to the door. He stared out toward the port looking for advancing troops, his blaster held at the ready. Nothing moved.

Suddenly a hand grabbed his belt and pulled him away from the door.

“Hold on,” he heard Waverly say into his communicator. Angry eyes stared at him. “What are you doing, Admiral?”

“Looking for the bad guys.”

“You want to get yourself killed? That’s not how you do it. You take a quick look, then duck back under cover. Then you think about what you saw, got it?”

“Uh . . . yah . . . sure.”

“Okay. If you saw something you want to shoot at, you now have a pretty good idea of where it is. Raise your weapon, then take a quick look, aim, and fire. Three shots every time, and only three, each one aimed, then get back under cover. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, what are you looking for?”

“Chessori.”

“No you’re not. You’re looking for movement, and you’re looking for parts of the Chessori. They’re not going to stand up and let you shoot them. Look for motion, and look for part of a head looking around from cover. You won’t see the whole head, just part of it. Got it?”

“Uh, sure.”

“And what are you doing with that pop gun? Get a real weapon. Here,” he said, giving Trexler his own assault rifle.

Trexler looked at it, then studied it.

“Have you ever used one of these before?” Waverly demanded.

“No. I’ve never even held one.”

“Sheesh!” Waverly put the weapon to Trexler’s shoulder, positioned his hands, arms, and head, then showed him how to fire the weapon.

“Every shot is aimed. Every single shot. I won’t have any of this wild firing, understand? Use the sights. If you don’t have time to aim, don’t bother shooting because you’ll miss. Are you getting all this, sir?”

“I think I need to practice some.”

“That you do. Practice looking, then practice aiming. Do not fire unless you are certain of your target, and make sure it’s not one of my men. You’re right handed. Get on the other side of the door. Use it and the window.”

“Okay. I’m Ray, not Admiral. Got it?”

Waverly smiled a grim smile. “I’m a colonel, and you’re a four-star admiral, sir. Now leave me alone. I have work to do.”

He went back to his communicator, and Trexler practiced his looking, then he practiced snapping the weapon up at things inside the building. He now had a much healthier respect for not showing himself at the door. He managed to get the window open, so he alternated positions between it and the door.

On one of his brief looks, he saw motion. With the next look, he discovered a small tank approaching with a squad of Chessori behind it.

“I have motion out here, Jim.”

“If it’s not one of my guys, shoot it.”

“I don’t think so. It’s a tank.”

Waverly didn’t even take the time to look. He closed his communicator, gathered up a spare weapon, and yelled, “fall back!” He scuttled across the lobby to a stairway. The sergeant who had been sent on an errand met him there, carrying two large weapons in his arms. Trexler picked up Seeton, then realized he’d have to leave his weapon behind. A sergeant picked it up for him.

Waverly split up the men. He took Trexler, a sergeant, and one of the heavy weapons and quickly climbed the stairs. Trexler struggled up the stairs, stopped half way to rest his legs, then decided he didn’t want to get left behind. He reached the top on rubbery legs and discovered Waverly far down the hallway to his right. He followed as Waverly set up at the corner where he could watch the front and side of the building. The other three men took the other corner of the front of the building, about a hundred feet away. Trexler dropped Seeton in an unoccupied, inner office where he would be out of the line of fire, then he hurried to join up with Waverly.

The sergeant had the big gun set up well back from the window and was taking aim. Trexler moved off to a window down the front hallway and waited for the gun to fire. The moment it did, he opened the window and took a quick look outside. The canopy of the tank had been blown off, and a second series of shots blew the tank up.

Trexler took quick aim at a Chessori and fired three shots, then moved to another window and did the same. The squads of Chessori had been caught by surprise and took up defensive positions behind benches and trees. Trexler saw a foot sticking out from a bench and, figuring he had nothing to lose, shot at the bench itself. The second or third shot managed to get through the bench, and the Chessori collapsed.

The fighting drew more Chessori, then lots more. Return fire started exploding against the walls of the building, many of the shots coming through the windows to wreak havoc on the interior walls. Trexler looked to Waverly who was calmly firing away, moving to different firing positions from time to time.

Their situation looked pretty bleak to Trexler, and he got on his communicator. “Tom, is anyone in position to help us? It’s getting grim here.”

“How grim? I’m the closest, and I’m free at the moment. Most of the fighting has moved into space.”

“We have tanks and troops about a hundred meters in front of the headquarters building. We’re holding them off, but we won’t last long.”

“I’ll take a look.”

“Do not risk your passengers. And don’t shoot Waverly’s men.”

“Understood, sir.”

Trexler kept up his peeking and shooting, and he actually hit two Chessori. About a minute later the frigate hove into view. It only stayed for a few seconds, then raced away with two Chessori traders on its tail, but what a few seconds! The ground in front of the building simply erupted. When Trexler lifted his head, he saw a couple of Chessori wandering aimlessly, their hands held to their heads. They fell quickly to shots from Waverly and the sergeant.

“You still there, sir?”

“I’m here, Tom. Are you in trouble?”

“No. I think we got a couple of the tanks. More are moving toward you. There were a bunch of guys moving on the rear of the building, but they’re not a problem for you any more.”

“What about the two traders behind you?”

“One’s gone. Uh . . . now the other one is. They’re really not a problem, sir. Their shields are pretty weak. The squadron is working its way toward the planet, but it’s taking longer than I thought. You won’t have fighter cover for a while.”

Trexler decided the first wave was done. They probably had a brief spell before the next one arrived. Waverly was sitting on the floor with the communicator to his head and papers spread out around him on the floor. The sergeant was moving from window to window, looking for targets.

“What’s your name, Sergeant?” he called across the room.

“Walters, sir. You doing okay? Do you need anything?”

“Just out of here.”

“Not to worry, sir. That frigate was great, wasn’t it?” he said with a grin, continuing a never-ending scan through the windows.

“I’d rather it parked right on top of us.”

“All in due time, sir. Keep your eyes peeled. They’ll be back.”

“The captain of the frigate said there were some Chessori working their way towards the back of the building. He took them out.”

“Okay.” Walters got on his communicator. “Lieutenant? They made an attempt on the back door. The frigate took care of them.” He listened for a moment, then said, “He’s pretty busy right now, sir. I think we should stay here.” Pause. “Okay, will do, sir.”

He looked at Trexler. “Lieutenant Stevens and his two guys are moving left to the next corner. That will put them kitty corner to us. Our lines of fire are now extended. We have to cover the whole front of the building and this whole side. He’ll cover the other side and the back. Understood, sir?”

Trexler nodded and went back to peeking and moving from window to window along the front of the building. Walters covered the side. Waverly never lifted his head, just stayed on his communicator non-stop.

“Sir, would you come over here for a minute?” Walters called.

“Uh, wait a minute. I see a tank, and more guys.”

“Okay. There’s one over here, too. They’re coming at us from two directions. We only have one gun, so we’ll deal with them one at a time.”

Trexler gulped and hurried over. Walters didn’t hesitate. He fired three quick shots at the tank, traversed the gun and fired at the Chessori behind it as the smoke cleared, then went after the tank again to finish it off. Trexler took several shots, as well, while Walters dragged the gun and its tripod to the front corridor. While the gun was being moved, Waverly got up from the floor, peeked out the side window, and loosed two short bursts, then returned to the papers spread about him on the floor.

“Here we go, sir.” Walters sent a long stream of bolts at the second tank, then moved closer to the window with his assault rifle, and both he and Trexler took out the attackers of the second wave.

Trexler heard heavy firing from the back of the building and looked at Walters. “Do you think they need help?”

“No, sir. They’ll call if they do.” He leaned sideways for a moment and loosed a burst. “Looks like a skirmish line coming this way.”

Trexler took a few peeks out his window and saw movement far to his left. “More out here, far to the left,” he called to Walters.

“Move down to that corner. You’ll have a better field of fire, sir.”

He looked at Waverly who was engrossed in a conversation on his communicator. “Hey, Jim!” he called. “Want to help out here a little?”

Waverly looked up. “Do what you can. If you need help, call.” He dismissed Trexler and went back to his conversation, moving some papers around on the floor as he looked for something.

Trexler hustled down to the far corner where he was joined by Lieutenant Stevens. They spent a lot of time dodging blaster bolts coming through the windows and returning fire, but eventually there was no more movement over the smoky ground.

“We’re moving up one floor, sir. Let Walters know,” Stevens ordered, then he hustled back to his corner in a crouch, almost on hands and knees as he went by windows.

Trexler gulped. He’d run the full length of the front of the building without even thinking about the windows. He peeked out a window again, saw no movement, and crawled the whole hundred feet back to Walters. Waverly glanced up from his papers but immediately went back to his communicator.

“All clear there, sir?” Walters asked.

“For the moment. Lieutenant Stevens asked me to tell you he’s moving up one floor.”

“Good idea. We’ll do the same when the colonel is ready.”

Trexler went back to his wall, then got back on his communicator. “How you doing, Tom?” he called.

“Are you in trouble, sir? I’m a little out of position, but I’ll head back your way.”

“No, we’re fine at the moment. I wouldn’t mind a short reconnaissance flight over us when you have the time.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“What’s going on up there? Are you guys okay?”

“Fine, sir. Just busy.”

“Why isn’t the port secure yet?”

“It’s secure, sir, but the airspace above it isn’t. I’d love to drop these guys off with you, but I can’t afford to be stationary that long.”

“What’s the problem? Can’t a cruiser just hover over us? No one will get by it.”

“Uh, well sir, one squadron is spread out in high orbit dealing with the Chessori, and the rest of our ships are spread out around the planet at low altitude.”

“Spread out around the planet? Why?”

“Colonel Waverly is trying to protect a number of important  installations: power plants, armories, financial centers, and so on. I just finished dropping off four squads at an armory after we spotted Chessori there trying to break in. The other frigate has actually dropped most of its load already, small groups here and there.”

“I thought we were trying to secure the port, Tom.”

“It’s mostly secure on the ground, sir, but they’re still clearing buildings and ships to make sure. As soon as I can get my load in, they’ll start working toward you and the rest of government center.”

Just then, a tremendous explosion struck near Trexler. He hit the floor on his back, hard. When he looked up through the dust, he looked out through a great, gaping hole some ten feet away. Four tanks and lots of Chessori raced toward the building.

“Tom, you’d better get back here. We have four tanks in front of us and closing quickly.”

“Two minutes, sir.”

Waverly was picking papers up out of the dust. Walters already had the big gun packed up. They headed towards the stairwell at a trot, passing by Trexler. He fell in behind them and followed them up the stairs to the next level. They went to the same corner, and Walters set up the gun as far back as he could get from the nearest window. Waverly took his own window near the corner, and Trexler decided he’d move down the hall to the far corner.

On his knees again, of course.

Walters opened up with the big gun, and Waverly shot his widow out, then started firing. Trexler followed his example. The tanks were about 50 meters away and stopped. The corner of the second floor they’d just come from was taking a terrible beating. Walters took out one tank, then started on another, then the Chessori ground troops suddenly started running pell-mell for the building.

Glancing right, Trexler saw why. The frigate was upon them. It hesitated for just a moment, positioned directly over the building with its rear shields glowing. Trexler looked out the side window and saw three Chessori traders coming in behind the frigate, firing continuously. All the guns on the frigate opened up, some firing toward the Chessori ships, the rest firing at the Chessori ground troops. The ground near the building erupted. Windows, those that were left, blew out, then the frigate was off at high speed. Two fighters swooped in from above the building, and Trexler just got a glimpse of them before two of the Chessori traders exploded a few hundred meters from the building. Wreckage and heat pounded the building as they crashed nearby. He thought one of the defensive positions at the port might have fired at the remaining Chessori, but with all the noise and confusion, he wasn’t certain. When he next looked, the ships were gone.

Waverly and Walters took the stairs at full speed, headed down. Trexler searched for targets, even leaning out the window a little and loosing shots at the Chessori huddled against the building. He heard firing and grenades from down in the stairwell and leaned farther out, shooting at any Chessori he could locate. He was afraid to use grenades since he didn’t know where Waverly and Walters were.

When there were no more Chessori to shoot at, he went back to his normal search pattern, checking to the front and side of the building. Sporadic shooting sounded from the stairwell, but he felt that he was needed more as a lookout than trying to confuse the two experts down there. He kept moving from wall to wall, but there were no more Chessori targets.

He called the frigate. “You okay, Tom?”

“We’re fine, sir. How about you?”

“I think we’re in the clear at the moment. There’s some fighting inside the building, but I think it’s under control. Nice shooting on those tanks.”

“We took out some others coming at you from your rear again, too.”

“What else is going on out there?”

“Waverly’s guys are starting to move out from the port, but not toward you. They’re going after a large batch of Chessori holed up in a hotel. We don’t want to take out the hotel with a ship, we’d kill too many innocent people. I need to check on a couple things, but I’ll come back if you call.”

“How’s it going out in space?”

“I really don’t know, sir. My focus has been the planet, and I’ve had to tune out what’s happening out there. Lots of chatter is all I can say.”

Trexler heard pounding steps coming up the stairwell. He threw his communicator down and huddled next to the inside wall, his weapon at the ready. The pounding reached the landing, and he heard, “Coming out. Don’t shoot us, Ray.”

He yelled, “Clear!” and waited for them to emerge. Waverly looked absolutely fine when he came into view, but Walters was not. His right arm, torso, and the side of his head looked like hamburger. Blood dripped onto the floor as he moved. Waverly looked briefly out windows of each wall, then moved to Walters and started cutting his uniform away.

“Eyes outside, Ray,” he ordered as he bandaged up Walters. “Sorry, Sergeant. No pain pills until we get our kits from the ship.”

“It’s okay, sir. I know I’m a mess, but I’m not out of action.”

Waverly finished with Walters, checked briefly out both windows, then went back to his position on the floor, his communicator to his mouth. Walters’ upper body was wrapped in his shirt, and a pant leg had been cut off and used to wrap his head, looped under his chin and tied on the top of his head. He sat with his back to the wall for a few moments, then dragged himself back to his feet.

“Take a break, Walters,” Trexler ordered.

“No, sir. Sitting doesn’t make it feel any better, and they’ll be back. I think they really want this building.”

“Walters, you do this out of choice?” he demanded.

“Well, sir, with all respect, it beats the heck out of being locked up in a tin can. I’ve never understood how you guys can stand it.”

Trexler kept his reply to himself and went back to peeking outside.

“The colonel says we’re secure for the moment, sir, but at this point, they’re likely to bring in snipers, so be careful. We’ll bandage you up as soon as our guys get here with our kits. I have to tell you, I feel naked without my vest and kit. It’ll be nice to have our regular earpieces and microphones back, too.”

“Bandage me up?” Trexler began feeling all over himself and discovered blood on the front of his shirt.

“Looks like you got hit with flying glass, sir. Pretty good gash on your jaw. And your foot . . . well, you might have a crushed toe or two. Those shoes aren’t nearly as good as combat boots.”

Trexler looked at his feet. A jagged piece of building was sticking out from the front of his right shoe.

He looked at Walters in amazement. “I didn’t even know.”

“That’s the way of it, sir. You’ll know when they take it out, though. It’s probably best to leave it alone right now. Your jaw is still bleeding, but not terribly. Since we don’t have our kits, It’s probably best to let it continue for a while – it’ll keep germs out until we can clean it up properly. Is this your first time?”

“First and last.”

“You’ve done well, sir. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“You, too, Sergeant. Let’s hope the pleasure continues for many more years.”

Walters nodded, his lips pursed in a tight grimace.

Lieutenant Stevens came strolling down the hallway with a sleeve of his shirt tied around his left leg. “You guys okay?” he asked.

“We are,” Walters answered. ‘How about you?”

“Everyone’s okay. What happened to you?”

“A grenade. The corner of the wall took most of the blast. What happened to your leg?”

Stevens grinned. “A puncture wound, nothing serious. And look! I got a souvenir!” He pulled a jagged piece of metal that resembled a thick, warped and twisted spatula from his pocket.

Trexler took it and studied it, then handed it back with a shake of his head. “I don’t have a clue what it is. Do you?”

Stevens’ eyes shone. “I think it’s a piece of one of those Chessori ships that blew up. Pretty neat, huh?”

A grin lit Trexler’s face. “That is truly a souvenir, Lieutenant. I almost envy you. Do you realize you’re probably the only man on all of Earth to own a piece of a Chessori ship?”

“Jeez, I hadn’t looked at it like that, sir. Uh, I don’t have to turn it in or anything, do I?”

“Definitely not, and that’s a promise. If anyone demands it from you, tell them to come see me. I’ll set them straight.”

“You can do that, sir?”

Trexler smiled and looked at Waverly. For once, Waverly, too, was smiling, and the communicator was silent.

“I guess we haven’t spent much time on chain of command lectures, Ray.” He lifted his eyes to Stevens. “He’s your boss, Lieutenant, and mine. He’s in charge of all Earth’s space forces, and his battle hasn’t even begun yet.”

“I have two tanks out here,” Walters called. “You’d better get back to your post, Lieutenant. They’ll probably be coming at the back, too.”

Stevens left, and Walters dragged the big gun into position. Trexler saw some thirty Chessori troops working their way toward the building.

“The tanks have stopped,” Walters announced. “They’re in range, but just barely.”

His big gun started firing, one shot after another without pause. Waverly pocketed his communicator, moved to a window farther down the side, and started firing. Trexler heard heavy firing from the back of the building as he lifted his communicator to his lips.

“Tom, we’re under attack again.”

“Okay, I’m already headed back. Thirty seconds, sir.”

The corner of the building started taking a beating, and suddenly the corner itself blew in. The blast threw Trexler back into a wall. When he picked himself up, Walters was doing the same. He didn’t see Waverly, but he felt completely exposed with the walls and part of the floor missing. The ceiling sagged down from above, and Trexler wondered if it would fall in on them.

Chessori troops, many of them, were rushing the building. Trexler found his weapon and lay prone near the edge. Waverly’s words came back to him, “Aim every shot.” He took his time and did so. Bolts from Chessori blasters impacted all around him and Walters.

A fighter flashed by, and the ground around the advancing Chessori troops erupted. Trexler couldn’t see any targets through the smoke and dust. He heard heavy firing from the rear of the building and guessed that the fighter was making a pass back there, as well. A Chessori trader came in from the right, but before it opened up, the front of it exploded. It crashed to the ground about three hundred meters away. The frigate made a tight turn and settled into position above the building. Its great guns opened up on the few remaining Chessori troops, and Trexler knew this wave had been repulsed.

His communicator was nowhere to be found, so he had no way of reaching the frigate. Walters was on his knees, heaving rubble aside. Lieutenant Stevens arrived on the run and started helping. Trexler joined in, and all three of them lifted a heavy piece of the wall and heaved it aside. Waverly’s body came into view.

Stevens knelt down beside him and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive, and he’s breathing.” He began a quick assessment, running his hands along Waverly’s torso, then his arms and legs. “Nothing obvious, but we’d better not move him.”

Suddenly, they were surrounded by Raiders, all wearing vests and kits. One immediately went to Waverly, set a large pack down, and leaned over him, beginning his own assessment.

Walters backed away and stood up to greet his friends. Another medic began unwrapping him. The medic studied the wounds, then took a magnifying glass from his pack and carefully examined Walter’s eyes. “Looks like one of those grenades found you. You’re done for this trip, Walters. Strip.”

“Hey, come on.”

“You know the drill. You probably have wounds you don’t even know about.”

Walters removed what was left of his trousers and stood in his skivvies while the medic checked him out. “Okay, close your eyes.” Walters stood while the medic sprayed him with copious amounts of something, then began winding gauze around his torso, then his arm. Trexler couldn’t believe how fast the man worked.

“You’d better check on the admiral, Fred.”

The medic glanced over his shoulder at Trexler sitting on the floor with his back to a wall. “He’s an admiral? You’d never know by looking at him.” Bandages went around Walters’ head, then the medic moved to Trexler while Walters pulled his pants back on.

The medic’s hands moved rapidly over Trexler’s body. “Got any hurts, sir?”

“No, none at all.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. I need to check you over, sir.”

Trexler smiled. “Don’t want to make the admiral strip, huh?”

“Sorry, sir. You can do it, or I’ll do it for you. Just lower your pants so I can check your legs. Don’t try to take them off. That shoe won’t come off easily.” Trexler stood up and dropped his pants, what was left of them. Dust filled the air as he lowered the pants. The medic sprayed his legs, then Trexler pulled his pants back up and removed his shirt. More spraying, then the shirt went back on.

“Sit, sir.” The cut on his chin was quickly cleaned, pulled together with band-aids, then dressed. Scissors came out, and the shoe and sock were cut away. “Any pain, sir?”

“A little. It’s mostly numb.”

“Numb is better than no feeling at all.” He pulled a syringe from his kit and pulled off the cap.

“What’s that, Sergeant?”

“Morphine, sir. I’ll follow it up with a general antibiotic. It’ll hold you until you get to sick bay.”

“No. I’ll take the antibiotic, but not the morphine. I have a lot of work ahead of me yet, and lots of lives are in the balance.”

The medic stared at him, then gently dislodged the fragment. “Still no pain, sir?”

“Uh, more now.”

The magnifying glass was back in the medic’s hand. He leaned close to examine the foot, then looked back up into Trexler’s eyes. “You’re going to feel it a lot more in a little while, sir. Three toes are crushed, and there are some loose bone fragments.”

“How about pulling out the fragments and wrapping it up?”

“If we were on Earth, I would, but these Empire docs might want all the parts to put it back together properly. This could never be properly repaired at home, but it might here. Let’s wrap it up and let them decide.”

He peered hard into Trexler’s eyes as his hands did their work. “Sir, make sick bay your first stop when you reach the fleet. You don’t want to be making life and death decisions without some kind of pain reducer. Trust me on this. I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’ll take your advice, Sergeant, and I appreciate your bluntness.”

“Rank has no bearing in medicine, sir. I treat everyone equally.” In almost no time at all, he wrapped a thick white bandage around the foot, then another olive drab bandage on top of that. “Keep the foot elevated, sir.”

He moved on to Lieutenant Stevens. Trexler tried to check on Waverly, but he couldn’t see anything through the press of bodies.

“Who’s in charge here?” he called out.

A captain came to his side and crouched down. “How you doing, soldier?”

“I need to get back to my squadron. I’m Admiral Trexler. Can you get me up to the frigate?”

“It’s gone. You’re an admiral? What the heck are you doing here?”

“It wasn’t by choice, I assure you. Can I borrow your radio?”

“No need, sir. We’re evacuating Colonel Waverly to a cruiser. You can go with him.”

“How is he?”

“Still unconscious. No major wounds, but a pretty good gash on the back of his head. Can you walk?”

Trexler accepted a hand and got to his feet. A stretcher with Waverly was already moving toward the stairs. The captain pulled one of Trexler’s arms over his shoulder and motioned ahead. Trexler tried to lift the man’s hand away. “I can walk, Captain. I’m really okay.”

“Yes, sir. I’m just thinking of the stairs. We don’t let admirals fall down the stairs in this command.”

The lobby was in shambles, and they had to carefully work their way around debris. A fighter was touching down when they emerged into the open. The sun was just setting, and it was deathly quiet. An explosion sounded from above, and Trexler looked up to see streamers shooting out from a fireball high in the sky. He didn’t know whose ship it was.

Walters and Stevens came up beside him, Stevens on a stretcher. He seemed perfectly fine to Trexler. “You going with us?” he asked, surprised.

“I guess so, sir. Seems ridiculous to me, but they tell us we’re out of the action, so we might as well go with you. We’ll end up there sooner or later anyway. I feel fine, but I guess the fragment got an artery. It was kind of a mess when they untied my leg. Walters has a lot of fragments to be removed.”

He looked at Walters. “I don’t think you’ll need that assault weapon where you’re going, Sergeant.”

“It’s not mine, sir. It’s yours. I thought you might want it.”

A grin instantly lit Trexler’s face, and he reached for the weapon. “Thanks, Walters.” Then the grin was replaced with a look of horror. “Seeton!” he yelled. He pulled away from the captain and headed back for the building.

“Hold it, sir. What’s the problem?”

“The Sector Commander! He’s in a room on the second level. If he’s still alive, he has to go with us.”

The captain spoke into his microphone, then headed Trexler back to the fighter. “Anyone else we should bring, sir?”

Trexler considered. “No. They’ll have a mess on their hands when this is over. We’d better leave someone here to pick up the pieces.”

His mind turned to space, but he felt confused for a moment. It was almost a wrenching feeling to put the ground battle behind him and shift gears to the coming battle in space. What was going on out there? To Waverly’s captain, he said “Tell whoever’s in charge here that I’m going to need gunners for my ships again.”

“How many? We’re pretty well established here. We can probably break some away right now.”

“No, your job is critical, and I don’t want to slow you down. I’ll get transportation arranged, but it will likely be a few days. I might need all of you. Someone will get back to you.”

He went to the bridge of the fighter and took the first vacant seat he came to, planning to study the situation among the fleet, but moments after sitting down, he was fast asleep. The fighter made the short hop to the port, took more stretchers aboard, and headed up into space.

Chapter Twenty-five

Seeton woke him up. It took him a moment to get his bearings. “We’re here, Ray,” he heard as if from far away.

“Where’s here?” he asked, still shaking himself awake. His foot hurt, a lot.

“Your flagship.”

“Okay.”

Seeton helped him to his feet and to the ramp of the fighter. A small personal transport waited outside on the deck of hangar bay.

The fighter’s captain ran down the ramp, catching them before they left. “You forgot something, sir.” He handed Trexler his assault rifle, and the transport set off.

Seeton gave him a strange look. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I think you can consider the planet yours again, sir. Our focus will be outward now.”

Seeton nodded. “I have the feeling I’ll be calling you sir before we’re done.”

“Look, we really didn’t have much chance to get to know each other.” Trexler stuck out his hand. “Ray Trexler.”

Seeton took the hand in both of his own and shook. “Harry Seeton. You’re pretty beat up, Ray, and what’s with all the dust? You’re coated in it.”

“It’s whatever your building was made of. You won’t be using your headquarters for a while, but your guys are okay, as far as I know. The Chessori never got in. The medic said this foot was going to be a distraction, and he’s right. I’m definitely going to have to do something about it. How are you?”

“The scree is much worse than I ever imagined. Thankfully, you’ll never know.”

Trexler nodded and frowned. “Too many others have been through it, and there will be many more in the upcoming weeks.”

“Weeks. You think it will take that long?”

“We won’t know until we see the big picture. I think we’re about to find out. I’d appreciate it if you’d stick with me during this. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Where else would I go?”

“You have a planet that needs your attention.”

“I have a sector that needs it a lot more.”

“And the future of an empire rests in the balance. In my mind, I’ve envisioned a battle here that will defy management. If it develops the way I’ve imagined, we’ll have over a thousand squadrons fighting each other. That’s something like thirteen or fourteen thousand ships.”

“I’ve managed a fleet for a number of years, but this is beyond my reckoning.”

“Let me tell you the first thing we learned when we started working on battles of this scale, Harry. We’ve all managed fleets, but in comparison to what could develop here, we were really only managing individual squadrons, squadrons in which we spent careers. When you think on the level of the squadron, you live and breathe the death and destruction, the tactics of ship against ship, the positioning of ships and their firepower, all of that. That’s all going to take place a thousand times over during the coming weeks, but it’s not our job. We’re not going to focus on individual fights and how frightening and horrible and exhilarating they can be. The squadron and battle group commanders will, but we won’t. Ours is a numbers problem, nothing more. We set the harshness aside. We deal only with capabilities, speed and firepower, positioning. To us, every squadron commander is as good as every other squadron commander, even when they’re not. They’re just numbers, not friends or competitors or strong or weak. They’re pieces of a 3-dimensional puzzle that we will move around to make perfect fits. And some of the fits won’t be perfect. Some will die. Others we’ll pull back. We cannot focus on the suffering and death, only the numbers. Our goal is to achieve a number of zero remaining for the enemy while retaining some positive number for ourselves.”

“That’s pretty harsh. Can you do that?”

“I have to. You have to. Our friends commanding those squadrons are relying on us to do it, and they’re relying on us to be right.”

The vehicle came to a stop. “We’re here, Harry. Let’s get to work.”

Steve Brinson, a senior Terran admiral, turned to greet them as they entered the operations center. “Boy, are you a sight  for . . . what happened to you, Ray?”

“The infantry is what happened to me.” He laid his assault weapon on the deck against the wall where no one would stumble over it. “What’s the situation?”

“You want to dust yourself off first?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s grim, just like we anticipated. Do you want Chandrajuski to brief you?”

“He’s here?”

“In another ship.”

Trexler considered. “No, not yet. You brief me, and don’t neglect whatever else you were doing. I don’t mind interruptions.”

“You want to sit here with me and see the big picture?”

“No. I don’t want to get tied up in details yet, and I will if I look at it. Paint a picture for me, Steve, and use a broad brush.”

“Okay, the enemy first. They started showing up about the time Waverly started his operation. They’ve come in from every direction, sort of like an exploding 4th of July fireworks. They’re still coming in, though the rate is tapering off. My guess is we’ll be up against some 500 Rebel squadrons.”

“Are they holding back reserves?”

“I don’t know. Everyone we see is heading inbound at the moment. If it keeps up much longer, it will be difficult for them to reinforce from the rear. They won’t be able to catch up.”

“They might turn around.”

“I hope they do. It would let us focus on fewer ships for a while.”

“Good point. How many squadrons do we have?”

“When they all get here, 160. A lot of them are partial squadrons.”

“How are the Rebels deployed?”

“In what I’m calling ‘units’ of four squadrons. It’s a little early to say, but I’m starting to see some consolidation. One group of twelve squadrons has formed into what I’m calling a ‘wing,’ and I suspect others might do the same, but I’m not certain.”

Always trying to simplify, Trexler did the math in his head, but because of his foot, now crying out for attention, the simple math took a couple of tries. If all the attacking Rebels formed into wings, there would be roughly 40 wings. His eyes lit up at the implications. “You think the others are forming into wings?”

“Too early to say. I’ve been plotting trajectories, but it’s slow work, and I don’t have enough plots yet.”

“This is critical, Steve. If you’re right, if they all form into wings, you’ve defined a whole strategy for us. Put every resource you can spare to working on plots.”

Trexler closed his eyes while Brinson went back to work. Seeton woke him an hour later. He held out a large cup of coffee to him, which he accepted gratefully.

“How’s it going?”

Seeton pulled Brinson from his display. Brinson spoke. “I’m not a hundred percent certain, Ray, but I think they’ll all be in wings within the next week. They’re definitely not making it obvious, and no other wings have formed yet, but my predictive plots point to the possibility of wing formations for a fair number of them.”

“Why would they do that?”

“For the same reason we might: ease of management. Someone has to call the shots for them, and you can’t do it for 500 individual squadrons. It’s not a bad idea, Ray.”

“How many Terran-manned squadrons do we have?”

“Fifty-three slow squadrons from Buskin, and the 10 slow squadrons you converted to minimal crews at Orion III, though they don’t have Waverly’s gunners back aboard yet. That adds up to 63 cruisers, all without support ships. Then there are the 21 original squadrons we put together at Parsons’ World. All 21 are fast ships with full complements of frigates and fighters. So out of our 160 squadrons, 84 are manned by Terrans.”

“Have there been any engagements yet?”

“No. Chandrajuski is working with Sam Taylor. They’re putting a plan together for fast squadrons to probe individual units for Chessori. Each of our fast squadrons will be trailed by two Empire fast squadrons, at least initially. If Chessori are encountered, the Rebel units will be marked, and everyone will withdraw and head for another unit. Slow Terran squadrons will go back to engage the Chessori, and slow Empire squadrons will be sent to the purely Rebel units.”

“Slow and tedious.”

“But it will be effective. Planning time spent now, up front, will pay dividends in the long run. We have to locate the Chessori before Empire ships can go it alone. It’s a numbers game. I think the goal of the Rebels is to break through to Aldebaran I, though what they’ll do with it once they get there, I have no idea.”

“It’s political, Steve. They want to claim the sector for themselves, and whoever controls the planet controls the sector. You know all that. I know you do.”

“Well, like I said, it’s a numbers game, and it’s looking real grim.”

“Actually, if you’re right about the wing formations, I think we’ve won. And in spite of all the hard work us Terrans have done, it’s the Empire that’s going to win this battle for us. You’ve met Harry Seeton. He’s Sector Commander here, and he’s been planning this battle for a long time. Tell him, Harry.”

“The short and sweet of it is that I have 673 squadrons nearby, just waiting for my call.”

Steve Brinson’s face lost all expression as he considered, then his gaze met Seeton’s. “Oh, well done, sir.”

There was silence for a time. Brinson broke it, saying, “We still have to identify which units have Chessori. It will take a while.”

“No, it won’t,” Trexler replied. “We’re not going to identify units. We’re going to pull back and let them finish consolidating into wings. Each wing will be Chessori or pure Rebel. They can’t function together, so they won’t be mixed. If your guess is right about them consolidating into wings, they’ll have 41 wings. We have 84 Terran-manned squadrons, and 21 of them are fast.”

Brinson turned completely away from the display, imagining in his mind the picture Trexler painted. “We have won.”

“I need to get Chandrajuski, M’Coda, and Sam Taylor here for a conference. We can’t discuss this over the radio, and a little extra time taken now will pay dividends in a few days. Steve, your job is to put a tag on every Rebel unit. Every Rebel squadron if you can. We have to figure they’ll discern our strategy. When they do, they might break up the wings, and maybe the units. We need to keep track of which ones are Chessori. That will be key to the whole battle.”

“Understood, sir. Uh, wouldn’t it be more appropriate for you to go to Chandrajuski?”

“It would, if I didn’t have to go to sick bay. The meeting can’t wait, and I need some pain relief or I won’t be any good to anyone.”

He turned to Seeton. “Harry, this is Chandrajuski’s show, but getting these slow ships positioned is extremely time critical. We have to get started now. Here’s the strategy: we were fighting defensively, just trying to hold the sector, but now we’re going on the offense. Your squadrons will make all the difference. We want to force the Rebels to pull in their reserves so we can take them out along with everyone else. They won’t pull them in unless they think they can win, so we can’t show our whole hand just yet or we’ll scare them off. I’m thinking that maybe two hundred of your ships should come in now. I think that will get the Rebels thinking about those reserves. They might even commit them. When they do, we can pull in the rest of your guys. What do you think?”

“I think you were wrong when you said this battle could not be managed, sir. Where will Chandrajuski want my ships?”

Trexler turned to Brinson. “Steve?”

“Look at the display, Ray. We’re scattered, but not nearly as scattered as the Rebels.”

“I’m not ready to look at the display yet. This is nice and simple in my mind, and I don’t want to lose the big picture. This foot is a real attention-getter.”

Steve Brinson went back to his display, and Seeton joined him. They considered options for a time while Trexler sat back with his eyes closed. His foot was on fire, completely overshadowing the throbbing along his jaw. “We’ve decided, Ray,” Brinson finally said.

“Then do it. I’m calling the conference together. I hope they’ll listen.”

Seeton got up and came to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “If he doesn’t listen to you, he’ll listen to me. We go back a long way together.”

Trexler struggled to his feet and limped to the tight beam station. “Link me to Admiral Chandrajuski, and have Admiral Taylor standing by.”

It was hard to tell when a Gamordian was stressed, but Chandrajuski looked stressed when he appeared. “Welcome back, Ray,” he said. “Can this wait?”

“No, sir. I want you to pull back all your assets for a few hours and come here for a conference. I promise you it will be worth your while.”

“Time is of the essence. Can you come here?”

“No, sir. I’m on the way to sick bay.”

“You’re sick? This is not the best of times for that, my friend.”

“Not sick. Wounded. It’s not bad, and I’m functional, but I badly need some pain relief. I can get started on that while you’re enroute.”

The great eyes blinked, and Trexler could tell Chandrajuski was on the point of refusing his request.

“Sir, if you’ll do as I ask, I guarantee a win.”

“There are no guarantees in warfare, Ray. We face a monumental uphill struggle.”

“You’re looking up at the problem. How would you like to look down on it from a position of superiority? I can’t discuss the particulars over the air. If you would, sir, keep all your ships headed inbound, whether they’re in front of or behind the Rebels. That way you won’t lose position, just a little time. And bring M’Coda.”

Chandrajuski was still on the verge of refusing. From everything he knew, he was, indeed, wasting time.

Seeton stepped into the pick-up. “Do it, sir. I beg you.”

Gamordians might move slowly most of the time, but they could make decisions quickly when it mattered. “We’re on our way.”

Trexler’s next call was to Sam Taylor.

Sam’s hair was in disarray, but otherwise he appeared non-plussed. “Hi, Ray. Are you ready to get back to work?”

“I need you here for a conference. It’s one of those things that is regrettable but will, in the end, have paybacks. You’ll like what you’re about to hear. You’ll shortly receive orders from Chandrajuski to pull back. Put a hustle on it, Sam.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Trexler reached a shaking hand to a chair and sat down. With his eyes closed, he said to Seeton, “I think I need a crutch.”

“Sorry, Ray. You’re going out of here on a stretcher. It’s already on the way, and sick bay is standing by.”

Just laying down and getting the weight off his foot was a tremendous relief to Trexler. He was sound asleep when he reached sick bay.

Seeton gave instructions to the medical staff. “He needs to be awake and alert in two hours. Whatever painkillers you use, he’ll need his full wits about him by then.”

A doctor was called and briefed. “We have a number of serious injuries here,” she said. “He’ll have to wait.”

“He’s not waiting. That’s an order, Doctor.”

Trexler went into an analyzer, and the doctor studied the results. “We have restoration tanks for injuries to the extremities, but I can’t leave him in there long without repairing the toes first. If I do, they’ll heal poorly. I’ll put him in for now, and I’ll get back to him later tonight, or maybe tomorrow. We have soldiers dying here, Admiral.”

“He needs to get back to the operations center.”

“He’s not going anywhere. If he does, he’ll lose some toes.”

“I’ll personally volunteer his toes to the war effort.”

A groggy voice sounded from the next bed. Colonel Waverly said, “I’ll volunteer the toes, too.”

“Is there no other way, sir?”

Seeton considered. “Actually, there might be another short-term solution. Can you clear an area for me to hold a meeting here?”

“We’re a little crowded right now.”

“That’s okay. We won’t need much room. You get started on him, and I’ll see to a work detail.”

An eyebrow ticked up on the doctor’s face, and she didn’t look happy. “Go away, sir. You can come back in two hours. He’ll be waiting for you.”

Seeton disappeared, and the doctor worked on the foot for a few minutes, then wrapped it up. While she worked, she had the Chief of the Boat summoned. Trexler’s lower body was going into a tank when the Chief arrived.

“I need a portable restoration tank that will hold a foot. Can you provide one?”

“How portable? They’re pretty big.”

“He’s going into the operations center with it.”

“It’s pretty crowded in there. Let me give it some thought.”

“I’ve been given two hours.”

“That will be a little tight. I’ll see what I can do.”

When Trexler woke up two hours later, his lower body was encased in a tank. He looked around and realized he was in the main bay of sick bay. Lots of beds held wounded soldiers. Waverly was beside him, his head encased in bandages. Walters was on the other side of Waverly, covered by a sheet. He was up on one arm, watching Trexler.

“Welcome back, sir. How do you feel?”

“Pretty good, actually. How about you?”

“I haven’t been looked at yet. Stevens is in the operating room right now. The doctor asked me to tell you they put a nerve block on your lower body. Nothing down there will work, so don’t try getting out of that thing.”

“I have work to do.”

“Admiral Seeton told them you’d hold the meeting right here.”

Waverly spoke without opening his eyes. “Hello, Ray.”

“Hey, how you doing?”

“Just a concussion, nothing serious. I’ll be up and around in a few days.”

Seeton came into the room, and beds and medical equipment started getting shifted around.

“Harry, I need to get out of here,” Trexler called.

“All in good time, my friend. They’re making you a portable restoration tank, but you’ll have to give them a few hours to work on your foot before they let you out. We’ll hold the meeting here. Admiral Taylor is aboard. He’s in the ops center. Chandrajuski and M’Coda will be here in twenty minutes.”

“We all need to be in the operations center.”

Seeton stopped what he was doing and stared at Trexler. “You know, Ray, I watched an amazing thing happen today. You have the whole battle mapped out in your head, and you’ve never once looked at a display.”

“I’m just painting with a wide brush at the moment, my friend. The display is needed for the next step, then we’ll get into the net to fine tune things.”

“That’s just my point. I’m reasonably certain that everyone else’s eyes have rarely left the displays. They’re seeing details while you’re seeing the whole picture. Might it be a technique Chandrajuski and M’Coda would benefit from?”

“Hmm. It’s not the way we trained to manage a battle like this.”

“You’re completely focused, Ray. What more could a commander ask for? Let’s leave the displays out of it for now. You’re stuck in that tank, and I want everyone in a room that’s completely devoid of displays for this meeting. We’ll see what develops. We can always adjourn to the displays later.”

“Well . . . okay, but I’m certain we’ll end up back at the operations center.”

“They will, but you’re not needed there. By then, it will just be a matter of grinding out work assignments. They can do that. In fact, I suspect they’ll all stay here for a while, and I’m making arrangements. Chandrajuski is not going to give up three more hours before working on ship dispositions. With all of you here, it’s putting all our eggs in one basket, so to speak, but look at the synergy we could develop.”

“There aren’t enough displays and net portals, and there aren’t enough tight beam transmitters in operations.”

“The Chief is working on it. It’s a serious limitation, but we can use the displays and net portals on the bridge in addition to the ones in the operations center. This ship is not going into action, so the bridge won’t need them for fighting.”

While they talked, two chairs were brought in and partitions went up around a fairly large area. Gamordians took up a lot of space. Seeton disappeared, and Trexler reviewed the strategic situation in his head. It seemed fairly straight forward to him, but he was concerned about the Rebel reinforcements. He really wanted to force them in, but he wanted to find a way to do it on his own terms, not theirs.

Chandrajuski came into the partitioned-off area. M’Coda was right behind him, and the moment he stopped, his upper hands went to work on his whiskers. Sam Taylor settled into a chair with a grim expression on his face. Seeton sat beside him.

“Is Steve Brinson coming?” Trexler asked Seeton.

“No. We might need some detailed information from the ops center. He’s our eyes.”

Chandrajuski wasted no time. “What’s this all about, Ray?”

“Let’s see if I can summarize for you. We have 160 squadrons, and they have 500 or so. Am I right?”

“The numbers have stabilized, and you’re very close.”

“The first problem is to identify which ships are carrying Chessori, right?”

“Correct.”

“It’s also fair to say that any Chessori we identify will not be paired with regular squadrons. They can’t function together.”

“Until proven otherwise, that is the basis of our planning.”

“We have 84 Terran-manned squadrons of which 21 are fast. We have 80 purely Empire squadrons, of which 27 are fast. That gives us a total of 48 fast squadrons.”

“Those are the numbers Ray. We’ve been living with them for hours.”

“Okay. Stick with the numbers. We’re just after the big picture here. How are the Rebels organized?”

“Groups of four squadrons. In a few cases, larger groups. I believe the large groups will attempt to push through our defenses.”

“You’ve been out of touch for three hours.” He looked to Seeton. “Harry, would you please check with Steve to see if the wings are still forming?”

“I just came from there. They are.”

Trexler focused back on Chandrajuski. “We call the groupings of four squadrons a ‘unit.’ The larger groups are called ‘wings.’ It appears that all the Rebels are forming into wings. Our battle will be fought against 40 wings. For us in command, we’re not fighting 500 Rebel squadrons, we’re fighting 40 wings.”

M’Coda’s upper hands went still, then started a frantic preening. Chandrajuski just stared at him, but Trexler could see his thoughts were deep and elsewhere.

A smile found its way to Sam Taylor’s face as he considered the implications. “I think our jobs just got a lot easier,” he stated softly.

“How certain are you of these wing configurations?” Chandrajuski demanded.

Trexler looked to Seeton, who answered for him. “Pretty certain, Admiral. Steve Brinson has a very nice display of trajectories if you’d like to go see them. It’s pretty complex, and it’s not easy to decipher yet, but it soon will be.”

M’Coda’s upper hands were still in motion. “Two quick probes by Terran fast squadrons to expose all the Chessori wings, then we can assign targets. It will become an issue of attrition.”

“For the Terrans, yes. For the Empire ships, no,” Trexler said. He nodded to Seeton who stood up to face Chandrajuski’s looming figure.

“I’ve known for a long time that a great battle would be fought here, sir. Some will criticize the path I chose, but none here in this room will today. I’ve gambled everything I have on this battle, as it was foretold I must.”

Chandrajuski’s triangular head lowered on his long neck to within inches of Seeton. “Everything?”

“Everything, my friend. They’re waiting a short jump away. Actually, we’ve already called for some of them.”

“How many, Harry?”

“673.”

Chandrajuski stayed in Seeton’s face for a time, then with all his elegance, he backed away, lowered his back legs, and then lowered his head. It was his method of bowing. “You chose well, Harry. We are in your debt.”

“I told you some time ago that I would stand by my oath to the Queen. That has been my guide.”

“Your example will guide all of us, today and for a long time to come.” He went to Trexler’s bedside and looked down on him. “You promised me that if I came, I would leave here looking down on the battle from a perspective of superiority. You have delivered on that promise, Ray. Thank you.”

His head swung around to take all of them in. “Should we go fight a great battle now?”

Trexler spoke up. “We might want to consider a few of the nuts and bolts first. Our goal is not yet clearly stated, and we have a number of options to choose from to achieve that goal.”

“The goal is quite clear, Ray.”

“It was, but it can be more now. We set out to take Aldebaran Sector from the Rebels. I would restate that goal. We want to defeat them. They’ll have reserves, sir. We want them, too.”

Chandrajuski backed away, deep in thought. “A challenge, but I accept. We will have to position ourselves in such a way that we draw them in. You’ve considered this, I take it?”

“I have, but I don’t have a good solution. Harry already called for 200 of his ships, leaving the rest waiting. If we brought all of them now, we might scare the Rebels into a full retreat, and we don’t want to do that. With the 200 ships, I think the Rebels will believe we’ve called in our reserves, and the numbers are still in their favor. You’ll have to position yourself in such a way that they’ll reinforce where you want them to.”

Chandrajuski looked to M’Coda. “Do you have a suggestion?”

“That will take sitting in front of a display, sir. In concept, I like the suggestion. Perhaps we can hit one area hard, leaving their forces strong elsewhere. The weak area is a likely area for them to reinforce. We’ll work it out.”

Trexler looked to Sam Taylor. “Have you started transferring crews?”

“Not yet. We were just finishing up assignments when I left to come here.”

Trexler turned back to Chandrajuski. “We can do as you suggest, use our 21 fast squadrons to bump them, see if the Chessori are there, or we can just make every one of our squadrons a Terran squadron. From a management standpoint, it would greatly simplify things if every ship was equal. Any squadron could be sent to any target.”

“Are you suggesting we use the 63 slow squadrons? That will take too long.”

“No, sir. Another option exists, but it has calculated risks. Waverly has hundreds of men who can function as gunners. If we abandon the Terran fast fighters, we’d pick up another 250 Terran pilots and a bunch of gunners. We could staff every cruiser we have with Terrans, and there would be enough left over to staff almost 200 of Seeton’s cruisers. Then it wouldn’t matter if they encounter Chessori or not. The whole crew could be in the net. If the Chessori are encountered, the Empire crews drop out. If the Chessori are not encountered, the Terrans drop out. You might even want to beef up the Terran gunners on our cruisers rather than sending them to Harry’s ships. I don’t think any of Harry’s ships are going to encounter Chessori. I think the reinforcements will all be Rebels.”

Chandrajuski looked to M’Coda, who said, “We need to take the time to model it. I like the idea of beefing up the Terran gunners. Right now, each gunner controls an entire battery, far too many guns for one person. What do you think, Admiral Taylor?”

“I’d like to beef up the gunners, and my fighter pilots are up to flying cruisers. In fact, they’d rather be flying cruisers. They don’t like risking their lives for nothing, and with this new strategy of just going after Rebel cruisers, they’re essentially useless. And transportation is not a problem. Each fighter pilot has a ship. He can take his fighter to the planet, load up the Raiders who will stay with him, and go to the cruiser he’s going to fly. The fighter can just stay in the landing bay there. We’re talking, what, maybe a day or two for all of them to complete the transfer? Waverly’s guys are going to be tired, but with a few hours of rest they’ll be ready to go.”

Trexler called over the partition. “Jim, does that work for you?”

“You can have them, but go through Major Wilkes. When he’s done with the city, he’ll have some clean-up to do in other areas. I don’t want any Chessori left alive on the planet.”

Chandrajuski slid the partition aside and looked down on the person in the bed. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Colonel Waverly, sir. You must be Admiral Chandrajuski. A pleasure to meet you.”

Chandrajuski’s mouth opened wide to display his many, many sharp teeth. “The pleasure is mine, Colonel. You’ve done us all a great service. We’ll talk later.”

The discussion became technical, with general assignments, timing and dispositions, and capabilities of certain groups of ships. Trexler stayed silent. Chandrajuski and M’Coda were truly in their element now, and they had become aggressive rather than defensive. They left the room in a group, still in heated discussion, headed for the operations center. It was time now for the displays.

Waverly’s eyes were still closed when he said, “I knew you flyboys had it soft, but running a battle from your bed?”

“Well, you freed a world with a telephone.”

* * * * *

Trexler knew he wasn’t needed at the moment. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be needed any more at all. He went to sleep. When he next awoke, they were taking him out of the tank.

“Sorry, sir,” the nurse said. “Someone else needs this more than you do.”

They encased his foot in a plastic container filled with goo and settled him next to Waverly who was asleep. Trexler, too, went back to sleep. When he next awoke, he was laying on a table with his foot stuck in a box. Waverly was awake beside him, lifted up on one elbow and staring at him. Stevens was beside Waverly with a small bandage on his leg. Walters was beside Stevens, his whole upper body and head encased in bandages. He, too, was looking at Trexler.

“What’s up, guys?”

“Not us, that’s for sure,” Waverly answered. “They worked on your foot last night. I think that table you’re on is portable, so you can get back to work whenever you want.”

“I have to stay on this table? How am I going to work from this thing?”

“I don’t know, sir, but it’s the best they could do. There’s a lot of equipment under the bed that’s tied to the box on your foot.”

“Jeez, it’s just a few toes. I need out of here.”

“I don’t know, Ray. That doctor is one tough lady, and she’s not brooking argument from anyone. I think she’s been up all night.”

“Are they still bringing in wounded?”

“No. I get the feeling we’re nowhere near the planet. If my guys are done, the hospitals on the surface will be back in operation to take care of them.”

“Hmm. Who’s guys are going to get treated first? We need to address this issue before your next fight. Should we try to get you back there?”

“All in good time. I’m not making any waves yet. Your guys have their hands full, and I have some good officers down there to take care of things. I’m not needed at the moment.”

“Nor am I, it seems.”

Waverly smiled. “My guess is that you gave them enough to do the rest.”

“If you think I’m going to let a few toes keep me from my job, think again. They’ve been going for hours, maybe days, without rest. They need relief.”

The doctor showed up, deep lines of strain showing around her eyes. “How do you feel, Admiral?”

“Fine. I need to get out of here.”

“Maybe in a few days. Maybe.”

“What if I just pull my foot out of this thing and leave?”

“You can’t. You’re well secured in there. If we take you out, you’ll lose the pain relief. Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Can I at least get a communicator? I need to check on things.”

“There’s one right there beside your bed. Didn’t you know?” She lifted a communicator from a nearby table and handed it to him.

“How do I reach the operations center?” he asked.

“Just speak into it and ask. It’s connected to the AI.”

He spoke into the unit, and an ensign picked up on the other end. “Admiral Taylor,” Trexler requested.

“He’s busy, sir.”

“I don’t doubt that he is. Would you let him know that Admiral Trexler would like to speak to him when he’s free?”

“Yes, sir. Standby.”

A very tired sounding Sam Taylor came on the line. “Hi, Ray.”

“How’s it going up there?”

“Actually, I’m going off duty for a few hours. Seeton and Brinson are filling in for me. If you’re up to it, I’ll stop by and bring you up to date.”

“I’m up to it.”

When Taylor arrived, he looked truly exhausted. “How long have you been at this, Sam?”

“Days. I caught a few winks on the way over from my ship. I’m taking a break now before the fighting gets started, then Seeton can take a break. We’re still positioning, but it’s going well. It’s strange though, all this waiting to get into position. I don’t think a shot has been fired yet.”

“Is the plan working out?”

“Beautifully, and if they break up their wings, all the tags are in place. We’ve marked every single cruiser. All our fast ships are manned with Terrans, and we’re almost done manning the rest of the capital ships with our guys. We’re holding the fast ships back for the moment. They can get into position quickly enough that we don’t want to give away our strategy. The slower ships will be as positioned as they can be by tomorrow. The attack will happen all at once, all over the system.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“It is. We give little away until it’s too late for them to do anything about it. I feel real good.”

Waverly spoke up. “How’s it going on the surface, sir?”

Taylor turned to him. “I really can’t say, but they’ve released some 250 gunners to our fast ships, and they’ll give us another 120 tonight for the cruisers you brought from Orion III.”

“Then they’re just about done. Is there any way I can get in touch with them?”

“Not at the moment. We can’t use normal communications or we’ll give away our position for sure, and the tight beams are in continuous use. Once the fighting starts, a lot of our communications will be in the clear and you can call then, but the tight beams will be very busy. I think we’ll take a hard look at our communications requirements after this is all over.”

“Do you need me up there?” Trexler asked.

“It’s pretty crowded with Chandrajuski and M’Coda in the operations center. I’ve been working from the bridge, but it’s crowded there, too. We might be able to squeeze you in. When you’re ready, we’ll take all the help we can get.”

“Okay, go take your break, Sam.”

Sam looked around the vast room and spied an empty bed. He went to it and appeared to be out cold before his head hit the sheets. Lieutenant Stevens got up from his bed and covered Sam with a blanket.

Trexler thought for a moment, then said one word: “Ship.”

A light on his communicator began flashing, and the unit started an angry vibrating. He picked it up and said, “Trexler.”

“General transmission is not permitted in sick bay, Admiral. How may I be of service?”

“Is there a hook-up to the net in here?”

“No.”

“Are there hook-ups elsewhere that are not in use?”

“Seven on the bridge, two in the captain’s quarters, three in Engineering, one in the landing bay, one in each gun battery, one in the officers mess . . .”

“Okay, stop. What if the captain is sick? How does he communicate from sick bay?”

“There are provisions for six input stations in sick bay.”

“How do I get them activated?”

“Only the captain or executive officer can authorize activation.”

“Connect me with the captain, please.”

A moment later, “Bridge.”

“This is Admiral Trexler. I’d like to speak with the captain.”

“Standby.”

“Captain Klipgg. What can I do for you, Admiral?”

“Are you busy?”

“Not at all. I’ve been ordered to stay out of things for the time being.”

“I’m in sick bay. Can you activate the net connections in here?”

“I’d be happy to, sir. Someone will be there shortly with the necessary equipment. What kind of helmets do you need?”

“Uh, probably just one for myself, but there could end up being a meeting in here. I guess one for each Admiral, and maybe a few spares just in case.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir.”

Ten minutes later, the Chief of the Boat showed up with two gravity carts in tow. One was loaded with some expensive looking cases, and the other was loaded with cables.

“How’s the bed, sir?”

“I take it it’s a new invention?”

“Yes, sir. It’s as small as we can make it.”

“Aren’t you a little busy to be running errands?”

“No, sir. The guns and shields are perfect, and there’s little else to do except normal shipboard routine. We’re ready to hop if things change.” He started running thick cable from a housing on the wall, bringing it to Trexler’s bed. He attached it to the bed, then brought a helmet to Trexler and plugged it in. “Here you are, sir. Where do you want the others?”

Waverly spoke up. “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure, if you can get one of these on.”

Waverly looked at the Chief. “Will the helmets work over bandages?”

“They will. Let’s see, you’ll need about a size four.”

Stevens and Walters were looking hopefully at Trexler, and he sighed. “Are you guys checked out on the net?”

“Yes, sir!” they both answered at the same time.

While the Chief got them plugged in, Trexler said, “Ship.” His communicator started flashing and buzzing again. He put it to his mouth and said, “Trexler.”

“General transmission is not permitted in sick bay, Admiral. How may I be of service?”

“I’m coming into the net. I want a broad view of the Aldebaran system. Three others here in sick bay are coming in with me. They are restricted to communicating only with me. Otherwise, they have full access, provided it does not limit the activities in the operations center or the bridge.”

“Established, Admiral.”

Trexler pulled his helmet on. A few seconds later, he found himself positioned in the center of the system, right at the center of the sun. He looked outward, and many, many symbols denoting ships stood out far in the distance, too far away for him to distinguish the tags Sam Taylor and his staff had applied to them. A tiny planet came into view as he rotated his head to the left, and he zoomed in on Aldebaran I. There were a few friendly ships there, but no Rebel or Chessori ships, so he backed out and continued turning left until he’d made the whole circle. He sensed Waverly, Stevens, and Walters joining him.

He thought “strategic view,” and he was instantly looking down on the Aldebaran system, all of it spread out below him. He moved in closer, and ships and their tags came into clear focus.

He studied the view for a moment, and thought, “trajectories, Rebel wings only.” Individual ship symbols vanished, to be replaced by snowflake symbols that someone had used to designate wings of Rebel ships. He moved closer in to one snowflake, and it expanded to show twelve Rebel squadrons. He thought, “move to next wing.” The view shifted to another wing and moved in. Again, there were twelve squadrons. He repeated the process 39 more times to assure himself that all the Rebels had formed into wings.

He thought “display Empire ships assigned to attack this Rebel wing.” Two fast cruisers instantly sprang into view, but they were far from the attacking Rebel wing. He repeated the process of examining each wing. Each wing had at least two friendly ships assigned to it, and some had as many as six. Had he not known that some of the cruisers were fast, he would have thought Chandrajuski was holding many ships in reserve. In other cases, it was obvious which enemy wings he was setting up to attack, a consideration the Rebels could not miss. Was Chandrajuski tempting them to commit their reserves?

He had another thought, wondering if Chandrajuski had chosen to hide the fast ships. As he explored, he discovered that all the fast ships were, indeed, tucked in with slow ships that were assigned to completely different wings. Once the attack began, some of these fast ships would leave their group and hit a completely different target. The Rebels in some wings would be completely surprised.

It struck Trexler as a superb plan. Some squadrons would be hit hard, and the ones that weren’t hit hard would at least be probed to identify Chessori wings. Seeton’s ships, approaching from behind, were always paired, and though they would not be in position at the outset of the battle, they were good reserves. Trexler was certain those squadron commanders had been given instructions on how to attack, probably using paired cruisers. Though the strategy would be new to them, it was not difficult to execute with a little practice.

Waverly, Stevens, and Walters stayed with him through all of this, and because of the magic of the net, they understood what he was looking at and thinking about.

He zoomed out again and just looked at the whole situation for a long time, moving in and out, considering and contemplating. He found a few places where he might have done things a little differently, but he found no faults. He had no idea who was crewing each ship; to him the upcoming battle was reduced to symbols.

Waverly approached him some time later. “I think I’m getting the hang of the commands,” he said. “While you were studying the big picture, I tried something else. Want to have a look?”

“Sure, Jim.”

Waverly thought, “display only enemy ships that are not in wing formation.” Forty-five Rebel ships remained on the display.

“Highlight these ships, then add all Rebel wings to the display,” Waverly commanded. The wings returned, and clear to them from the display, each had another ship associated with it, sometimes off to the side, and sometimes behind, depending on the positions of the attacking Empire ships.

“If each squadron is a battalion, those single ships are your brigade commanders,” Waverly said.

“Except for the four spaced geometrically around the far perimeter of the system,” Trexler added thoughtfully.

“Exactly. They’re running the show.”

Trexler studied the display. “Those four look to me like they’re in position to make an immediate jump. It might not be possible to take them out, even with a fast ship.”

“Would they see a fast ship coming in from outside the system?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.”

“There’s one more item, but I don’t want to discuss it on the net. I have no idea who has access to what we’re seeing and thinking. Are you willing to disconnect?”

“Sure.”

All four of them disconnected. Stevens and Walters looked dismayed. “Something on your mind, guys?” he asked.

They looked at each other, and Stevens spoke soberly. “It’s like the Normandy invasion, sir. A lot of people are going to die out there.”

Trexler nodded. “Most will die quickly, some will not. Cruisers are very hard to completely destroy. We’ll rescue the survivors if we can. For all of history, war has been a gruesome business. In this case, it’s all for a concept: you might call it right versus wrong; you might call it restoring the Empire; or you might call it saving Earth. All of those reasons work for me. The cause is just. It’s our job to end it as quickly as we can. You helped us along that path by clearing the Chessori from Orion III and Aldebaran I. Those were key battles, gentlemen, and they were giant strides toward reaching the finish line. The battle here will be another giant stride.”

“Provided we win, sir. It looks to me like we’re seriously outnumbered.”

“We are at the moment, but you were here yesterday when we discussed the reserves. Something you might not know is that a lot of our ships have significant advantages over the Rebel ships. Our fast ships are just what the name implies; they’re lots faster than the Rebel ships. Some of them also have more firepower and better shields. They’ll hit hard, and if the going gets too tough, they’ll bounce away and come back from a different angle. It will make a difference.”

He turned to Waverly. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I did another search, Ray. I asked the AI to display only friendly ships that are not assigned a target. There were a few near the planet. Out here, there were three.”

“Hmm. Were we one of them?”

“Yes. I presume one of the others was Chandrajuski’s flag ship. I’m guessing Admiral Taylor’s flag ship has been sent into action. I wouldn’t be surprised if Chandrajuski’s is sent in later.”

“And the other?”

“It was a fast frigate, way out on the edge of the system, just like the four Rebel command ships. The reason I didn’t want to announce it to one and all on the net is that I think it might be the Queen. Reba talked about her quite a bit, and from what I understand of her, she’s not one to sit out a major confrontation.”

“Hmm. You could be right, Jim. She committed her own personal squadron to Chandrajuski, and I’ve been wondering where she went that’s safe. Wherever she went, it would be in a fast ship, certainly. If she’s here, she can fast ship away any time she wants.” Then he sucked in his breath. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? There’s no way the Rebels can get to her unless they have fast ships.”

Trexler’s eyes shifted around as he considered. “Have you heard Krys’ story?”

“No. Who’s she?”

“It doesn’t matter right now. She was jumped by a Chessori ship that was vectored in with the interstellar communicator. I’ll bet some of these Empire ships have the communicators. Certainly the top commanders have them.” He looked at Waverly thoughtfully. “I’ve been trying to outguess the Rebel commanders, trying to figure out what tricks they have up their sleeves. Taking out the Queen would be a big one.”

“Well, I hadn’t considered that, but I did have another thought. I’m told the Queen is their number one priority.”

“Most likely.”

“You’ve been trying to figure out how to get the Rebels to commit their reserves where and when you want them. What if the Queen moved a little closer in, too far in for a regular ship to jump back out. The Rebels would believe they had her blocked in. If we make sure they see her, wouldn’t they go for her?”

“Gods, Jim! What a thought. It’s perfect! And if she came in far enough, they couldn’t jump on her from hyper. Ship!” he announced into the air.

His communicator started flashing and buzzing again. He picked it up and said, “Stop. Get Chandrajuski on the line.”

It took a full minute. “What, Ray?”

“This is urgent, sir. Get the Queen moving inbound immediately, at maximum normal speed. No fast shipping. Call me back when she’s complied. Hurry, sir.

“Ray, she’s not here. She would have called.”

“Are you in the net?”

“Yes.”

“Tell the AI to delete everything from your view except our ships that have not been assigned targets.”

The wait was not long. “I see what you mean. Why bring her into the system, Ray? I’d rather she left.”

“Remember how Krys was jumped from hyper by a Chessori at Dorwall?”

“I do. I want her out of here.”

“No you don’t, sir. You have a job for her, but get her started inbound. No jumping. Then let’s meet in sick bay. This is too hot to discuss over the net. Trust me, sir.”

Chandrajuski cut the connection. The four of them just looked at each other and listed to Sam Taylor snoring.

Chandrajuski showed up about 20 minutes later with M’Coda and Seeton in trail. “Mike wants an explanation, Ray. He’s not happy about the tight beam connection. We might have exposed them.”

“Good. Are they inbound?”

“Yes, and they have all sensors active in every direction.”

“Great. Jim, this is your plan.”

“No, go ahead.”

“Okay. Admiral, Jim discovered something. He asked the AI to display only those Rebel ships that were not included in wings. He got 45 hits.”

“Is this their secret weapon? I’ve been waiting for something like this to muddle our plan.”

“I don’t think so. Forty-one of them were fairly close to wings. We think they might be calling the shots for the wings.”

Chandrajuski considered Trexler’s words. M’Coda started preening furiously. “We might want to shift our attacks slightly, but we have to make the bumps first.”

“Agreed, Admiral. Identifying the Chessori is certainly a top priority. There were four more ships very far out. It looked to me like they were far enough out to jump instantly.”

“The main commanders?”

“Probably.”

“Juster’s here,” Chandrajuski said softly, displaying his teeth in a grin and knocking his fists together. “And maybe Struthers himself. Oh, my!”

M’Coda spoke up. “We cannot take out the command ships until they have ordered the reinforcements to enter the fight, and those reinforcements must be far enough into the system that they cannot jump back out quickly.”

“There’s one more piece to the timing, gentlemen. Jim not only discovered the Queen’s ship, he has a job for her. If she announced her presence to the Rebels, she would be a magnet for their reinforcements. Struthers, if he’s here, will do anything to take her out. And there’s more. Something that Jim doesn’t know, most likely, is what happened when the Queen announced her presence to the Rebels at Gamma VI. Remember?”

“The squadron was brought to its knees,” Chandrajuski said softly. Both of his hands formed into fists again, and he knocked them together a few times. “Is there anything else?”

“Just one more thing. Reba is captaining one of those slow cruisers. If time permits, I’d like to get her out of the way. She’ll think it’s because she’s a female, and she’ll be mad as a hornet, but that’s not my reason. I want her out of there because she’s a Knight. I don’t want to be wasting Knights out here. I was wondering if, instead of tight beaming the Queen, Reba can just take the message to her.”

“I’ve already dispatched a fighter to pick her up. I, too, do not want Knights captaining my ships.”

“Won’t all of this fast shipping alert the Rebels?”

“We’re using fighters, and their beacons are off. Ray, every ship out here began its life as an Empire ship, so we know how they work. Our ships’ AI’s look for beacons.”

“How do we see Chessori ships?”

“They, too, have beacons. They’re not the same as ours, but they shine clearly to the AI’s.”

“I thought the AI’s read drive signatures.”

“They do, but only after fine tuning their sensors on beacons. They might pick up a drive without a beacon if it’s close to them, but they won’t pick up anything else unless it’s close enough to hit. Fighters have small drives, and it’s unlikely they’ll be picked up. It’s a gamble, but the stakes are not high. The Rebels are far enough into the system now that they cannot escape.”

* * * * *

An angry, red-headed woman stormed into sick bay. “How could you! You sorry . . . Oh! . . . What happed to you, Ray?”  Her eyes moved left for an instant, then back to the left again. “Jim?” Left again, and, “Stevens?” Left again, and “Walters?” Left again, then back to Trexler. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s a long story, Reba. Can it wait?”

“Uh, yah. Anything serious?”

“No. Have you seen Chandrajuski?”

“Just for a moment. He sent me to you with orders to see him before I leave. What’s up?”

“Ellie’s here.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. She’s way out in the system, and we need you to take a message to her.”

Anger showed for a moment, then she caved in and came to stand beside him. She brushed a hand across his face, pushing a few short hairs back from his forehead. “Are you really okay? All of you?” she asked, turning to take in the Raiders.

“We’re really okay, Reba.”

“There are lots of other messengers.”

“Besides the injured men in this room, three people in the operations center know about the Queen. No one else. Who would you send? The message is critical. It’s a job for a Knight, My Lady.”

“My Lady, hmmph. You won’t get off that easy with me.”

“I know, but you’re here now. It’s too late to back out.”

“What’s the message?”

“Do you have any idea of what’s going on out here?”

“I only know the targets my ship was assigned. It’s frightening, Ray. It’s going to be a hard, bloody battle. The whole thing defies management.”

“I hope the Rebels see it that way. I’m sure that’s what Mike and the Queen see. Among other things, I want you to put their minds at rest, but she has a job to do for us.” He gave her the big picture. It didn’t take long; it really wasn’t that complicated, and she was a quick study.

When he was done, she said, “The fleet should know what you know, Ray. Do you have any idea of the stress levels out there?”

“I do. How would you have me notify them without letting the enemy know? They have the same radios we have.”

Her lips thinned. “It’s a harsh job you have, sir. Every ship here is undermanned, and our guys know it. Staring out through the net at that horde of ships coming at us is intimidating.”

“I know it, too well. They might not know it, but the slow ships like the one you were on will likely not end up facing worse than two-to-one odds. We’ve done that before and come out on top.”

“I’m telling you, our guys would do a better job if they knew.”

“There’s no way to tell them. They’ll do their duty.”

She moved to his bed and stared down at him, then kissed him lightly on the forehead. ”It’s been a while, Ray. You look older.”

“You look just as ravishing as always, My Lady. Val is a lucky guy.”

She turned away with her eyes brimming to find Waverly staring at her. She took his hand and leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“Your Raiders pulled it off again, My Lady.”

“I know, Jim. There was never any doubt in my mind.” She went to Stevens, ran her hand along his arm, then went to Walters and did the same. “Did I ever thank you for saving my life?” she asked.

“When?”

“When you opened fire on that gun emplacement on Orion III. My ship was holed with the first shot. You were ready, even though we weren’t supposed to open up on it for another half hour. I wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t been ready.”

“I never knew,” he said in amazement. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then turned to leave. Before stepping out the door, she turned back to Trexler. “You owe me, Ray.”

After she’d gone, Lieutenant Stevens moaned, “How come I never get the kisses?”

* * * * *

Reba double-checked that her beacon was off, studied her screens for a while, then picked the biggest hole in the Rebel armada she could find and fast-shipped out of the system. When clear of the gauntlet, she turned the small fighter back and set course for the Queen’s frigate. Several short jumps brought her alongside, and she latched her fighter to its side.

The first person she met was Mike, and he was angry. “What are you guys trying to do?” he demanded. “Attract all the Rebel forces to us?”

“Hi, Mike. Actually, yes.” She turned to Ellie and gave her a hug. “You have a job to do for us, Your Majesty.” She greeted Otis, Jessie, Ralph, and Josh, then turned back to Ellie. “I’d forgotten how crowded it always is around you.”

“I like being surrounded by my friends. Val is on the bridge. We didn’t know it was you coming in.”

“Can I say hi to him before I brief you? We have two hours before you take center stage.”

“We’ll brief on the bridge. The ships’ officers should know what’s going on if we’re going to somehow get involved.” Ellie took her arm and led her away. “It’s been many months, Reba. It’s good to see you. How are you?”

Mike and Josh looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders, then fell in behind the two women.

Half an hour later, Reba finished delivering her message. Mike had moved to stand behind Ellie with his hands on her shoulders. The strain literally melted from her as Reba explained the battle plan.

Ellie took one of Mike’s hands in her own and turned to him. “Help me construct the message, Michael. The Rebels are my people, too, and I would preserve as many of them as I can.”

“They’re not all your people, Ellie.”

“The commanders are not, most likely, though who can say? I want to reach the crewmembers.”

“The ship’s captains will never let your message go out to the rest of the ship. I’m sure they learned their lesson at Gamma VI.”

“The only survivors in Val’s squadron were the loyal ones, and they have joined with us. The Rebels cannot know what happened there. I want a seed of doubt in the minds of ships captains, a seed that will sprout when the battle heats up. And you know as well as I do that my words will filter through the ships over time. Once the dying starts, some will have a change of heart. I want to encourage that change of heart. I want to encourage surrender. I intend to send the message again when the Rebel reserves come in to make sure they hear it, too.”

“Ellie,” Reba said, “I must caution you against doing anything at all without Chandrajuski’s approval. This battle is incredibly orchestrated.”

“I won’t do anything without his approval. After my first message goes out, everyone will know where we are, and I will be free to tight beam him.”

“If you can get through. They only have three channels, and everyone is going to be screaming. Maybe you’d better give him a heads-up now while they’re not so busy. I don’t think it will hurt to attract a little attention to yourselves at this point. If the Rebels haven’t seen you yet, you might want to get them wondering about who you are.”

“What do you mean, they only have three channels?”

“Our senior people are all on the same ship, Your Majesty.”

“What?”

“I don’t know why. Admiral Trexler and Colonel Waverly are wounded and in sick bay on the same ship.”

“Wounded! Colonel Waverly I can understand, but Ray? What happened to him?”

“I don’t know. They’re both awake and alert and functioning, but the ship only has three tight beam channels.”

“Have they thought about how they’re going to accept surrenders?”

“I have no idea. I know they’re going to try to prevent retreats.”

Ellie looked troubled, but she nodded her head. “Will you convey my concerns to Chandrajuski for me? I’m going to the conference room.”

* * * * *

The clock ticked down. At the precise moment, Ellie nodded to the communications officer, and the general broadcast channel opened. She was dressed in rugged pants and a tight blouse, with a blaster strapped to her hip and a delicate crown resting in her hair. Mike stood by her side, his First Knight medallion prominent on his chest.

She spoke. “I am Ellandra of the Chosen. The line of Chosen continues, through me. I am Queen of your Empire, and I am here leading my loyal Empire forces.

“Hear my call, for I am the only legitimate ruler of Empire, and I have been chosen by you.

“To you Rebel sailors, I say to each and every one of you personally, I have not forsaken you. Rise up against your cruel and cowardly leaders. They will fail you today, and they will fail you always. I will accept the surrender of any ship that asks. Once the battle starts, you will have but two choices, surrender or die. Retreat will not be permitted.

“To you loyal Empire officers and sailors, I say thank you. You have chosen rightly and well, and you will come away with honor.”

She leaned into the pick-up, watching the monitor until her face completely filled the display. “Struthers, I believe you are within the sound of my voice. Hear me well. You have thrust your will upon our Empire in the most cowardly way. You know which ship I am in. Come for me if you dare. I will not run from you. I will stay and fight. Your grand plan has failed. You have lost Orion Sector, you will lose Aldebaran Sector today, and that is but the beginning of the end for you. You’re a coward, and I call you out.”

* * * * *

“So that’s the Queen, huh?” Waverly said. “There’s a bit of iron in her backbone.”

“More like steel, I’d say,” Trexler responded. “She’s also one of the warmest women you will ever meet. Did it do the job you intended?”

“I believe it did. If I was a Rebel, and if I was sitting on the fence, I’d know which side to get off.”

“How about you, Stevens?”

“Bring it on, man!”

“Walters?”

“If I was Struthers, I’d be really, really embarrassed right now, and I’d be angry. I wonder if he’ll send out a rebuttal?”

“Hmm. Good question. If he does, he’ll sound weak. She showed leadership, whereas a rebuttal puts you in second place no matter how well it’s done. We have more waiting to do. I think I’ll get some sleep.”

* * * * *

The Rebel reserves appeared two hours later, 105 squadrons, all chasing the Queen’s frigate. Chandrajuski believed from the numbers that they would form into 8 wings, each with a separate command squadron and one overall commander. Not that he cared: it wouldn’t matter. He called for 200 more of Seeton’s reserves, and they appeared two hours later in hard pursuit of the Rebel reserves. With the addition of Seeton’s reserves, and for the first time, Empire ships held the advantage over the Rebels. The Queen’s frigate raced ahead of the Rebels, leading them further into the system and making it very difficult for them to escape the trap.

Chandrajuski unleashed his forces, and the battle was joined. Trexler, along with Waverly, Stevens, and Walters, observed from the net. He was not needed as a fleet commander: Chandrajuski, M’Coda, Sam Taylor, and to some extent Seeton, had the conn for this battle.

Instead of looking at the big picture, Trexler chose to look at the small picture now. He had the net section off his display into attacks against three Rebel wings. Two attacks were by groups of 6 slow cruisers, and one was an attack by two fast ship squadrons.

The fast ships hit first, and they took the Rebels by surprise. Trexler couldn’t tell at the start if they were up against Chessori or Rebels, but within minutes, someone had tagged the enemy as Chessori. One Chessori cruiser went dead in the first two minutes as both Terran cruisers opened up on an unprepared target. Clearly, it had taken the Chessori too long to get their act together. The second cruiser they picked lasted twenty minutes, mainly because the Terrans had to keep breaking off the attack as other Chessori squadrons came to assist the squadron under attack. But the Terrans kept coming back at the same Chessori squadron until its cruiser ceased to exist. Then, in a complete surprise to the Chessori, they went after the command squadron. It, too, fell. Someone tagged the two Terran cruisers’ battle readiness at 96% and 94%, so they must not have taken too much damage. They picked another Chessori squadron and went after it.

The slow squadrons had a much different challenge. They could not easily jump away, and the odds against them were two-to-one, but since they were operating as two-cruiser groups, they could only attack three targets, leaving many Rebel ships free to gang up on them. Four Empire cruisers went after the first unit of four Rebel cruisers they came to. The remaining two-ship split up into individual units whose purpose was to harass and delay the remaining Rebel units from assisting. That wing was soon colored as Chessori. The first Chessori ship to be attacked was, again, slow to shift from Rebel to Chessori control, and it didn’t last long. The second didn’t last long either, but then the Chessori got their act together and started fighting back. The battle quickly turned into a melee, and the Terrans all reverted to two-ship operations, hitting one Chessori hard, then shifting to another when too severely threatened. Two Terran ships fell, and when readiness numbers of the remaining Terrans appeared in the display, Trexler was dismayed. After the first 30 minutes, the Terran ships were down to 50% shields and 80% weapons, and those numbers would continue falling, probably at an accelerating rate as the damaged ships became less effective. There were not enough Terrans to make repairs. He knew the same thing was being repeated many times over throughout the Aldebaran system, and it was disturbing. Should the two-ship concept be scrapped for the slow ships? In retrospect, they should have sent 12 slow ships against each wing.

Then he remembered the feeling he’d gotten during the engagement at Orion III. It had seemed to him that they had not so much taken out the cruisers’ weapons as they had overloaded its shields, then quickly punched through to vital internal parts of the target.

He called Chandrajuski. “I see that the slow ships are having some difficulty.”

“They are.”

“Look, they’re doing their best to each take a different side of the target.”

“That was their instructions.”

“Try having them both focus all their guns on the same side of the target. They’re more likely to overload the target’s shields, and they’ll have plenty of guns facing outward to ward off reprisal.”

“Difficult flying, Ray. Very difficult.”

“I know.”

Chandrajuski cut the connection. What more could be said?

The other group of slow ships had encountered a purely Rebel wing. It was not slow to respond, but it sent its smaller ships in ahead of the cruisers, as was standard Empire practice. The Empire attackers ignored them and immediately focused on the cruisers. At two against one, it didn’t last long. Surprisingly, the Rebel ships that were not targeted did not come to the assistance of those under attack. Either they had orders to bull their way through to the planet at all costs, or they simply stayed with standard doctrine, which stipulated that squadrons operated independently. After the first two Rebel squadrons fell, all six Empire ships focused on the two remaining squadrons of that unit, then moved on to the next unit. The second unit fell, but so, too, did two Empire ships, and the remaining Empire ships were so badly damaged that they could no longer fight. They had to pull back for repairs.

Waverly couldn’t believe his eyes. “Don’t they know how to retreat, Ray?”

“Who? Our guys or theirs?”

“Well, both, but I only care about our guys. Look at those readiness numbers. They’ve been walking wounded for a long time. I’m surprised more didn’t fall. They’re staying in there far too long, and it’s not necessary. The Rebels still have a long, long way to go to reach the planet. There’s plenty of time for our guys to pull back and make repairs, then reengage.”

“It’s pretty hard to pull back with ships, Jim. When they’re evenly matched, the bad guys can keep up. We generally hang in there and plan for support.”

“What support? Everyone’s committed.”

“Maybe we should uncommit some of the fast ships, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, but it’s not a bad idea. In the infantry, retreat is a real ballet, but if properly executed, it’s highly effective. A couple of guys lay down maximum firepower while everyone else pulls back. When everyone has gone back a ways, two more guys lay down heavy fire, and the first two guys run back and join the main group. They keep leapfrogging like that until they’re clear. I don’t see anything like that happening here. You have no exit strategy, Ray, and your guys are staying in there too long.”

“You’re right. Let me think about this.”

He called Chandrajuski again. “Sir, the slow ships are hanging in there too long. I haven’t been following the fast ships, but they might be, too.”

“The fast ships are fine. We’re pulling some of them back to support the slow ships.”

“Look, our guys don’t need to hang in there until the bitter end. It’s many days before the first Rebel ships reach the planet. We have plenty of time for our guys to fall back, make repairs, then go back at it.”

“The Rebels will also be making repairs.”

“So what? We’ll out last them if we keep our resources in good enough shape. We’re throwing lives away as it is, to no purpose.”

“What is your suggestion?”

“Issue an order requiring disengagement for any ship that falls below some safe number. Set the number high, maybe 50%. Let them get out while they can still protect themselves.”

“That will completely throw off the dynamics of the two-ship, Ray. If one ship leaves, the other must leave with it or be exposed.”

“Then have both of them pull back. Better yet, put your group commanders to work reassigning. They can keep healthy ships together. The whole group might eventually fall back, but it’s better than losing them.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Think fast, then get back to me. I have another thought.”

Chandrajuski was back in a couple of minutes. “M’Coda agrees. The order is going out. We’ll study the results.”

“Okay. The other item isn’t as easy. Waverly noticed that we don’t have a good retreat mechanism, and he’s right. In the infantry, they leap-frog. A unit provides heavy firepower against the enemy while everyone else pulls back. Then another unit does the same while the main unit pulls back. The process keeps repeating. I’m not sure how that would work here, but I’d like the guys to have something they can try. What do you think?”

“I think we don’t have time for training, and this would require training, but let me think about it. This sort of thing is M’Coda’s specialty. Anything else?”

“Maybe. The slow ships might have an easier time pulling back if you send fast ships to their rescue. The fast ships can keep the enemy squadrons from following.”

“That’s a major realignment of our attacking forces. We’ll look at it. It’ll slow down the battle, but it’s a good idea. Anything else?”

“No. I haven’t spent much time on the big picture. How are we doing?”

“Our fast ships are superb. No losses among them yet. The slow ships are suffering. Overall, the Rebels are losing six to our one.” He cut the connection.

Trexler wondered about the remainder of Seeton’s reserves. Where were they? At this point, they would be so far out of position when they came in that they wouldn’t be of much use.

Suddenly, the Queen was back on the air, her First Knight beside her.

“I am Ellandra of the Chosen. The line of Chosen continues, through me. I am Queen of your Empire. I am here leading the battle at Aldebaran I.

“For you reserves new to the battle, hear my call, for I am the only legitimate ruler of Empire, and I have been chosen by you, all of you, Rebels and loyal Empire forces alike.

“To those of you on Rebel ships, I say to each and every one of you personally, I have not forsaken you. Rise up against your cruel and cowardly leaders. They have failed you today, and they will fail you always. I will accept the surrender of any ship that asks, but I will not permit retreat.

“To you loyal Empire officers and sailors, I say stay the course. You have chosen rightly and well. Though it might not seem so, my commanders tell me the battle is won.”

She leaned into the pick-up, just as she had earlier, until her face completely filled the display. “I see you Struthers. I know where you are. Your men have fought bravely, though they fail, just as your grand plan is failing. Come to me, you coward. I dare you in front of all your men. I am in a small frigate. Choose any single ship, even a cruiser, and come to me. I will guarantee your safe passage through my forces, and I will fight you one on one, with no quarter asked and none given. A leader would accept the challenge. A coward will flee. Show your men what you’re made of.”

She backed away. “Rebels, surrender or die. I beg you to surrender.”

Trexler and Waverly looked at each other in amazement. “Is she foolish?” Waverly asked.

“She’s calculating and, I think, brave. Did you know the Chosen cannot lie?”

“I’ve heard. I’m not sure I believe it.”

“It’s generally accepted out here in the Empire to be true. She will fight him if he comes, and Chandrajuski will have to let him through. She can’t tell a lie, but she doesn’t have to tell the whole truth either, and she’s clever about it. She didn’t tell him she’s in a fast ship. I would give a fast frigate a fair chance against a slow cruiser. If nothing else, she could just stay out of range of his guns, taking occasional pot shots at him. She’d wear him out until he gives up or runs, but his men here don’t know that. I wonder if he’ll come?”

“Maybe we’ll just have to keep an eye on those four command ships.”

“Maybe now would be a good time to take them out,” Trexler said with a smile. “I don’t doubt for a minute that Chandrajuski is thinking the same thing. Their use to us is over. Any surrenders will be on a ship by ship basis, possibly a unit or a wing here or there, but those top commanders are unlikely to approve a general surrender.”

“I would when it reached a certain point, and it’s going to reach that point. Are you giving them full credit? They’re just as good at commanding as we are. They have to care about their men.”

“Chandrajuski will be the better judge of that. A lot of these guys got their appointments by replacing the A-teams; they’re second string and might not have the seasoning it takes to admit defeat. Is there anything harder for a warrior to do?”

“No, unless it’s watching your men die.”

Twenty minutes later, two of the command ships far out in the system winked out, having jumped into hyperspace. After two hours passed and they had not reappeared, Chandrajuski announced to all ships, Empire and Rebel, that the top Rebel command had fled. He offered surrender as the only Rebel option. He pulled all of his slow ships from their targets and let the fast ships remain engaged.

Rebel ships began fleeing, but they were days away from jumping into hyperspace. Some risked jumping early, and their fates were unknown, but most stuck to doctrine. Chandrajuski waited until trajectories of fleeing units were known, then issued instructions to the remainder of Seeton’s reserves to intercept them. When the additional 273 squadrons emerged from hyper, essentially simultaneously, one of the far Rebel command ships contacted Chandrajuski and surrendered. The battle was over.

Chapter Twenty-six

Reba entered the nearly empty sick bay. Everyone but Trexler had been transferred to another ship. He was in the net and did not sense her entrance.

She announced to the room, “Ship, alert Admiral Trexler that he has a visitor.”

The phone beside Trexler’s bed began vibrating. She picked it up.

“General broadcast is not permitted in sick bay.”

“There’s no one left in here who is sick. Notify Admiral Trexler.” She hung up and waited.

It wasn’t long before Trexler removed his helmet and looked around at the vacant room. His gaze settled on Reba. “Hi, Lady.”

“Hi, yourself. Where is everyone?”

“I’ve transferred everyone from sick bay to other ships. The command staff will be on their way out of here shortly.”

An eyebrow ticked up on Reba’s face. “Why?”

“Because I’m taking this and another fast squadron to Earth. They are the only two squadrons that are undamaged.”

She visibly sagged with relief. “I’m so glad to hear that. We left them essentially defenseless.”

He nodded. “We left Korban undefended, as well. Chandrajuski has agreed to send two fast squadrons to him. I don’t know how long he’ll get to keep them, but he’ll at least have them until we can get him some slow ships.”

“Do you have to go to Earth personally?”

“No, but I won’t be staying long. I just want to get a feel for how Buskin and Godfries are doing, and I want to check on the new projects we’ve begun there. I’ve been out of that loop for too long. As soon as Buskin’s ships get back, I’ll return here with my fast squadrons. I hope to work with Waverly for a while.”

She grinned. “You’ve been reading minds.”

“Whose?”

“Ellie’s and Mike’s. They’re here talking to Chandrajuski. They’ll be down to see you any minute. So . . .” she began with a twinkle in her eyes, “Two down, 68 more to go.”

He grimaced. “I hope not. I don’t want to do this one by one. A lot of good people died out here this week, good people on both sides.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” a new voice piped in.

Trexler looked around Reba to the door and nodded his head. “Your Majesty.”

Two Protectors sprang into the room, followed by Mike, Val and Josh. Ellie came to Trexler’s bed and brushed a hand fondly across his head. “You’ve done well, my friend. Chandrajuski gives you full credit for winning the two largest battles in the history of Empire. I give you credit for sending Struthers running with his tail between his legs. He will be a long time recovering from these losses.”

“He’s not going to give up with just two losses, Ellie.”

“I know. And we can’t keep fighting sector to sector like this. My time is coming up. I will speak to the Imperial Senate as soon as it convenes, which I do not think will be much longer.”

“How?”

“We don’t know yet. Otis has been working with Mike, Val, Reba, and Josh to develop a plan. The four of them are going to Triton. Otis cannot go. There are no Great Cats there now.”

Trexler looked to Mike. “What’s your plan?”

“Our job is to find a way to get Ellie into the Senate chamber, then back out. We don’t have a clue how we’re going to do it. That’s why Josh is coming. It’s really his mission since Otis can’t go. The Protectors, all of them most likely, will be tasked with making it happen.”

“Can I assume you have plans to communicate with the rest of us? I’m guessing it will take every ship we have, and the fighting could be bloody.”

“We’re counting on you, Ray. We’ll let you know what we need as soon as we know ourselves. Actually, our hope is that you will just distract them. We plan to bring everyone in on traders. This will not be a massive assault with our own ships. It won’t work if it comes to that.”

“Unless you take the whole planet,” Trexler replied.

Mike looked out into space for a time. “Probably not likely, but we’re not closing off any options yet.”

“We have other business to conduct here, Ray,” Ellie said. She stepped over to him and placed a hand on his head. “You fight for the people of Earth, but you fight in my name, as well. You are my representative to your people, and when you speak, you will be speaking for me.”

Reba took Val’s hand in her own and laid her head on his shoulder. Mike, on the other hand, did not have warm fuzzies. Ellie had high hopes, but he believed she would suffer disappointment this day.

“Raymond Trexler, today is your Naming day. Will you swear allegiance to my Crown? Will you wear the Pin of a Knight of the Realm?”

Trexler stared into her eyes. For the two of them, thoughts of battles and plans receded. Her request, though official, called on the very personal friendship they had developed during the preceding months.

“I would proudly wear the Pin if I could, Your Majesty. You know I would. Remember our conversations about the problems on Earth that have to be resolved before the existence of extraterrestrials becomes common knowledge?”

She nodded her head, sensing his tone, and suddenly fearful that this great man might actually refuse her.

“Earth is your ally, but they are a frightened ally. I lead their forces, and they are not ready to turn that leadership over to anyone not of Earth. They have to know that I’m theirs, that I speak for them, that my allegiance is to them and only to them.

“I do swear allegiance to the Empire, Your Majesty, but not as a Knight. For me to do so, not only would it muddy the waters, not only would it slow things down, it would cause an irreparable rift between me and my people. At the very least, I would lose my job. At the worst, it would poison our hopes of Earth’s joining the Empire for many years to come.

“This is a bitter pill for me to swallow. As a man, I say yes, but as leader of Earth’s forces here in space, I must say no.”

By the time he was done, Ellie’s eyes were brimming. He was right. It was too soon. Someday maybe, but not yet. She sensed the brightness around them dimming. This great man had turned her down, but she was not done with him yet.

“Earth did not have much of a choice when they selected you. Mike chose you. I wonder if they know how lucky that choice was? You are called, Raymond Trexler, just as I am called, to serve. You lead all of us in battle. More, you are the man who will build bridges between our peoples. As your Queen, I stand with you.”

She clasped her hands and started to turn away, paused, then turned back to him. “You will have your Naming day, Raymond Trexler. It is not this day, but I will not wait forever.”

“Nor will I, Your Majesty.”

“Earth needs your voice in my deliberations. I call you to my Inner Circle. Will you accept?”

“I do accept, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. My Inner Circle is now in session. Colonel James Waverly is also on my agenda today. He has worked wonders, and he needs better credentials. I intend to Knight him, but I have never even met him. Is he right for the job?”

Trexler considered her words. “I know him, but not as well as Reba knows him.”

“This is not our first discussion of this matter, Ray. Val and Reba both support my decision, but once Knighted, Waverly’s decisions will bind me. Will he bind me wisely?”

Trexler frowned. “He is more than just a warrior, Ellie. We knew we needed someone of his caliber before we hired him. He’s not a politician, but he is broad-minded and understands that his decisions have political ramifications. He will not abuse his power, and he will choose wisely. I do not believe you will regret your choice. And there’s more.”

Ellie’s eyebrows lifted, but she did not speak.

“We’re taking this war to the sectors, Ellie, and he’s our point man. He’s going to have more men, enough to hit two or three worlds at a time. Whenever possible, he will precede the arrival of his men and make whatever arrangements are necessary. When the Raiders get there, everything will be in place for them to get right to work. Knighting him is the perfect move. It’s precisely what both of you need.”

Her hand went to her throat. “Does he know about this expansion of the Raiders?”

Trexler smiled. “It was his idea. But, Ellie, his biggest problem will not be the Chessori, it will be convincing governors and sector commanders to give him adequate support. No one out here knows him, and he has no authority. Our plan was for Chandrajuski or M’Coda to accompany him, or maybe a squadron commander if no one else was available, but speaking in your name works far better.”

“My thought, exactly. Will he accept Knighting?”

Trexler’s eyes moved to Reba. She had resigned her commission before joining with Ellie, and for good reason: military rules preclude officers from accepting commissions from foreign governments.

“He might not,” Trexler mumbled. “He knows the rules.” His voice rose, a decision made. “It’s also the best way for him to serve Earth and the Empire.” His gaze shifted to Reba. “See him before you leave on your mission. Let him know that if the offer is made, I approve. In fact, let’s make it clear: I order him to accept.”

Reba smiled. “I’ll give him your message, sir.”

“And while you’re at it, you might want to find my stuff. I have no idea which ship it’s on at the moment, but I have an old set of stars that you could give him, and there’s something else. I brought my dress uniform.”

“We need that?” she asked, confused.

“Well, it depends. I don’t know what the ceremony is for knighting, but I know what it was on Earth. I brought my saber.”

Her dazzling smile lit her face. “Oh, this could be fun.” She looked to Ellie. “We’ll discuss it later. It’s time to go.”

Reba leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, then Ellie did the same. Mike shook his hand, his lips a thin line. No words were necessary. They both had their work cut out for themselves.

* * * * *

Trexler looked around the cavernous room, empty of everyone but himself now, and realized that he didn’t like the feeling. He could not remember the last time he’d been so isolated. Here he was, supposedly in charge, and he’d had not one iota of input for the massive preparations going on around him.

He said to the room, “Ship, get me Steve Brinson.”

The phone beside his bed started vibrating again. He picked it up and said, “Stop. Get me Steve Brinson.”

“He left for Orion III with Admiral M’Coda, sir.”

“Okay, get me Sam Taylor.”

“He just boarded a shuttle with Admiral Chandrajuski.”

“Without even saying goodbye?”

“They’re traveling with the Queen, sir.”

“Figures. Okay, who’s the senior Terran officer aboard?”

“You, sir.”

“Besides me.”

“The squadron commander, Admiral Wen, sir.”

“Get him for me.”

He heard a short beep, then, “Admiral Wen speaking.”

“This is Ray Trexler. We need to discuss our mission.”

“Yes, sir. Can it wait? We’re just about to get underway, and I’m still confirming the personnel transfers. I don’t want to leave without a full crew of Terrans.”

“Do you have room for me in the ops center?”

“Not yet. We’re still cleaning up from the battle, and that table you are on is pretty big.”

“Look, I’m not one to sit on the sidelines.”

“Yes, sir. All I know is that we’re going to Earth with another squadron. Sam Taylor put our crews together, then left. Both squadron commanders will need to be briefed, but at this point, it’s too late to change anything. We’re minutes away from departure. We’ll have a full week before we drop from hyper, then three weeks to transit the system to Earth. Plenty of time, sir.”

Trexler hung up, thought for a minute, then picked up the phone again. “Get me my doctor.”

“She’s off duty, sir. I believe she’s sleeping.”

“Okay, get me a doctor, any doctor. I’m getting out of this tank. On second thought, send the Chief. He knows how to do it, and he’ll talk to me. He has to. I outrank him.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

A week later, Ellie’s frigate touched down at the port on Aldebaran I. Seeton came aboard and was greeted by the Queen and her retinue. He went to one knee before her.

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”

“The pleasure is mine, Admiral. Please stand. I am fully informed of your actions against the Rebels. I congratulate you, and I thank you.”

He grinned. “Your part in it was spectacular, Your Majesty.”

“I have given you a week to get your sector headquarters back on its feet. It’s now time to look to the rest of the sector.”

“We’ve been focused on the big picture all along, Your Majesty.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. Signio Veswicki, whom I have Knighted, speaks highly of you. I need a governor here. Are you willing to fill those shoes?”

“Of course, Your Majesty. However, I might be of more use to you as a military man. We have a lot of sectors to recover.”

“Times are changed, and you might end up wearing both hats. But for now, I Name you Governor of Aldebaran Sector. We’ll hold an official ceremony within the next few days.”

Seeton went back down on one knee. “I am honored, Your Majesty.”

Her voice hardened. “You’ve earned it, Governor, as few others have. Now, I would like to visit with General Waverly as soon as possible.”

“He’s here. It’s Colonel Waverly, Your Majesty.”

“Here? I thought he was in sick bay?”

Seeton smiled. “He’s a hard one to keep down. He left his bed three days ago, and he’s back with his men.”

“Will you call him, please?”

“Actually, he’s waiting outside the ship with an honor guard for you.”

Her hand went to her throat. “They’ve been waiting all this time?”

“They have, Your Majesty.”

She looked at him with a hint of anger. “You should have told me. I would not have kept them waiting.”

“Waiting is high on the list of military activities, Your Majesty.”

“I would like a personal meeting with him before I leave the ship. It won’t take long. Will it be an affront to his customs if I keep his men waiting a little longer?”

“Not at all, Your Majesty. May I do the honors?”

“Please.”

While he was gone, she turned to Chandrajuski. “I have affairs of state to conduct. Is there a suitable location that will hold all the Raiders?”

“The governor’s reception hall should be adequate. I hear it’s a bit of a mess right now, but we can get it cleaned up.”

“Please see to it immediately.”

Chandrajuski was still talking on his communicator when Waverly arrived, escorted by Seeton. As Waverly entered the lounge, Ellie stood, drawing looks of surprise from everyone. People usually stood for her, not the other way around. Waverly removed his hat and approached her, then went down to one knee with his head bowed.

Ellie stepped forward and reached out a hand, placing it under his chin. “Arise, my hero. You will kneel but once more before me, then never again.”

Waverly straightened to his full height. “Colonel Waverly reporting, Your Majesty.”

“Yes,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely, then turning to walk in a circle about him with her hands clasped behind her back. She did not miss the bandage on the back of his head. “Do you realize you and your men are on the way to becoming legends here in my Empire?”

“Ma’am?”

“You know that everyone in this room is a hero, that each plays a crucial part in restoring my Empire. Did you know that without you and your men, our task would not succeed?”

“There’s always a way, Your Majesty. Reba’s Raiders play an important role, but we’re just one cog in a big wheel. That’s always the way of the military.”

“You speak true, Colonel. What you might not understand is the role you play in the timing. Your small group of warriors have given the rest of us the means to stop this horror before it becomes entrenched. Without you, we would be years, and possibly hundreds of years, behind. Without you, it is entirely possible that the Chessori influence would spread unchecked throughout the galaxy, leaving the Empire and the Rebels to be minions of this species we know so little about. You have saved uncounted lives.”

“We have a long way to go.”

“We fight on two fronts, General. My first instinct after the coup was to reestablish the Empire. Little did I know that in the long run, restoring the Empire was only a second priority. The first was, and still is, staying free of this horror we call Chessori. You and the others from Earth are our only means of preventing their takeover.”

“In that case, I guess I’ve been too close to the trees to see the forest. Do you understand the idiom?”

“I understand it very well. We will take steps to remedy that oversight. But first, let me say, officially and personally, thank you. Thank you for everything you have done in my name, and be welcome to the Empire.”

“I thank you on behalf of my men, Your Majesty.”

She took his arm in hers. “Let me introduce you to the others here. You met my First Knight, Michael Carver, before he left Earth with his Protectors. You also know Admirals Chandrajuski and Seeton, and you’ve spent months with Sir Val and Lady Rebecca. I’m told that you also know Colonel Dace, the head of my Terran Protectors?”

Waverly grinned to Josh. “I thought all Protectors were Great Cats?”

“They are. We’re just backing them up. It’s good to see you, Jim. Looks like we chose well with you.”

“Next is Sir Otis, Knight of the Realm,” she continued, indicating Otis.

“Lady Rebecca told me about you, Sire,” Waverly said as he greeted Otis. “I am honored to meet you. You’re the first Great Cat I’ve met.”

“The honor is mine, Colonel. Your exploits have been . . . quite remarkable. Legends will be written and sung about this war someday. Your name will hold a place of honor in them.”

“I’m told your men are waiting outside,” Ellie said. “I would be honored if you will present them to me.” She drew a ceremonial robe about her shoulders, then fiddled for a few moments with a crown. While she did, Waverly had a few words with Otis and Josh. He had armed men stationed about the port, and he did not want anyone getting shot by the Queen’s Protectors. Ellie took Waverly’s arm and led him to the ramp. Her Protectors moved to the front, but Ellie called them back. Though against all the rules, no one would precede her and Waverly down the ramp on this special occasion.

As they stepped to the ground, a loud command of “Atten-hut!” followed closely by “Present Arms!” sounded. Ninety-six Raiders created a corridor for the Queen to walk through, two ranks of twenty-four men lining each side of a red carpet leading to her skimmer, all holding assault weapons in the present-arms position. Mike and Otis followed directly behind the Queen, followed by Val and Reba. Seeton and Chandrajuski, his long neck towering above everyone, came next, then the Protectors spread out to both sides for security. Invisible to all but Waverly and the Protectors, snipers and spotters from Waverly’s forces manned every rooftop and nearby ship.

Ellie stopped after only a few paces and turned to Waverly. “Many of them are wounded, Jim.”

“All of them are wounded, Your Majesty.”

“And I’ve kept them waiting all this time? I’m sorry. If it is not contrary to your custom, I would meet each of them.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep you moving right along. As you said, they’re walking wounded.” She spent the next forty-five minutes inspecting the troops. Waverly kept her moving, but he knew what every soldier had been through, and he recounted brief exploits for her before each one. She graciously offered words of appreciation and laid a hand on each one of them.

She and Mike spent the rest of the day with Waverly and Seeton, intending to tour the battlefields. Their first stop was Seeton’s sector headquarters. Her skimmer stopped a hundred meters in front of the deserted building, and everyone just stared at it while her Protectors deployed from their own skimmers. The grounds surrounding the building had become a wasteland. The left front corner of the building was essentially demolished, but gaping holes and rubble adequately described what was left of the front and sides.

“Six men held this place?” she wondered with a hint of incredulity in her voice.

Seeton corrected her. “It was really five incredible soldiers and one frightened, very green admiral, Your Majesty.”

“It’s what Reba’s Raiders do, Your Majesty,” Waverly added. “Ray’s ships played a big part in it.”

She continued to stare at the building, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Then she just got out of the skimmer, tossed her robe and crown on the seat, and started walking through the blasted grounds toward the building. She knew right where she wanted to go and led everyone up to the second floor, turned right, and went down to the corner. It was completely open to the outside.

She neared the edge of the missing floor and bent down to pick up a piece of paper laying in the rubble.

She looked at it, then handed it to Waverly. “A memento, Jim. You freed a world, and you saved the senior officers in this building in the process.”

“I was one of those saved, Your Majesty,” Seeton said. “Actually, Waverly saved the world, and Trexler won the battle in space. He did it without leaving his bed.”

“So I heard. Reba says it was . . . difficult for the sailors in the fleet.”

“I’m certain it was, but the outcome was never in doubt. I expect you will be hearing a lot of personal stories during the coming days.”

“Then let’s get started.”

* * * * *

That night she received the Raiders in a formal ceremony in the governor’s mansion. 341 Raiders sat on both sides of a center isle in the cavernous room. Behind them a number of hospital beds held the more seriously wounded that could be moved. When she was announced, everyone who could stand came to attention. Ellie strode the length of the center isle and took her place in the elevated seat at the front of the room. Her Knights followed to stand to her left and right.

She spoke clearly. “Besides myself and my Knights, there are no other Empire officials here in this room. Tonight is just for you Raiders. Tonight I take the opportunity to say ‘thank you.’ I have been told that no other special operations troops on Earth have been tasked to deliver so much so relentlessly. You have not wavered despite serious losses and injuries, and you have not lost a single battle.”

She gave them a view of the big picture and their place within it, letting them know the true threat of Chessori domination. Their battle was not only to save the Empire: they were in every sense of the word fighting to save Earth. There would be no letup for the Raiders, the war was not yet won, but there was no one except the Raiders to carry the ground battle to the Chessori.

“Know this,” she stated clearly. “Colonel Waverly tells me that the families of the fallen are not well taken care of on Earth. That will not be the case with you men. I promise each and every one of you that not only you, but your survivors as well, will be amply rewarded by your service to me. You will not be forgotten.”

Reba walked to the center of the stage. “Colonel Waverly, front and center,” she announced.

He took center stage, and she turned her back on the Raiders to face him. “Admiral Trexler is not available to do the honors, so he asked me to do them in his place,” she announced. “By his order, you, James Waverly, are hereby promoted to Brigadier General.”

She removed the eagles from Waverly’s shoulders and pinned a star in place of each, saying, “The stars came from Admiral Trexler, so they’re navy stars, but he thought you’d find them acceptable.” She stepped back and saluted him. “Congratulations, General.”

Waverly returned the salute. Reba took his arm and turned to face her Raiders.

“Reba’s Raiders,” she began. She looked them over with that radiant smile on her face, her head shaking from side to side. “I’m so proud of you.”

Shouts of “Hoo-Ah!” sounded from around the room.

“I salute you, one and all. You have fought under the banner of my name since your inception, and you have honored me far more than I deserve. It’s time to set the record straight. With your permission, I ask that the record henceforth refer to you as Waverly’s Raiders.”

The Raiders rose, all that could, with loud clapping and more calls of “Hoo-Ah!”

Reba returned to her seat and Ellie stood. “General Waverly, we are not done yet.” She stepped to his side and turned him so that all of his men would see and hear clearly. “I told you earlier that you would kneel before me only once, then never again. The time has come, General”.

Waverly went to one knee. Ellie put her hands on his head, but turned to address the men.

“You are about to participate in a very private ceremony never before witnessed by anyone but the Queen and her Knights. You are here because in many respects the honor I bestow upon General Waverly is an honor bestowed on each of you as well.

“Know this: the Naming of a Knight of the Realm is a call to even greater sacrifice in my name. Know this as well: wherever you fight, General Waverly’s commands will carry the same weight as my own. No longer will you be the last to receive medical care. No longer will you be forced to operate without full knowledge. No longer will you be held in anything but the highest esteem.”

She turned back to Waverly, but her voice carried to the whole room. “So that you and your men fully understand what transpires here today, I tell you that within our Empire there are never more than 100 Knights. At present, there are only seven. You will be the eighth. Such is the esteem to which I hold you.

“James Waverly, today and forever more, you will be referred to as a Great One of Empire.

“James Waverly, you have served Earth well. In addition to Earth, you now officially serve the Empire. As much as your men count on you, so too does the Empire. So, too, do I.

“I call you, James Waverly, to a duty that transcends kings and queens and presidents. I call you to serve all. Your peers judge you worthy, and so do I.”

Reba stepped forward with Trexler’s sabre, which had been polished to a high luster. With a brief hiss, she pulled the sword from its sheath and presented it to Ellie.

Ellie turned to her and grasped the hilt of the sword in both hands. She turned it, letting shards of light reflect from its mirror finish as she studied it.

“The use of a sword is new to the ceremony,” she said to the Raiders. “Since the future of Empire is so closely tied to the future of Earth, I find it fitting that a piece of Earth’s history finds its way into this very special moment.”

She faced Waverly who was looking up at her as he knelt on one knee. She turned the blade flat and lowered it to his left shoulder, saying, “Do you, James Waverly, swear allegiance to my Crown?”

Waverly lifted his head and turned to his men. “Your Majesty, I swear allegiance to my men.” He turned back to Ellie. “I swear allegiance to you, as well.”

“I Knight you . . .” She lifted the sword and moved it to his right shoulder, . . . “Sir James. Your word is my command on all worlds of the Empire. You need never kneel again in my presence, but others will surely kneel before you. Stand, Sir James.”

Waverly stood, and Ellie removed a Knight’s Pin from her pocket. She placed it into his hand, then pressed both of her hands over his. Her eyes closed for a time.

When they opened, she said, “Open the Pin, Sir James.” Waverly passed a hand over the Pin, and it sprung open. Ellie’s countenance shone forth in a bright light. She closed it and pinned it to his collar, saying, “Only you and I can open this Pin forever more. It provides unquestioned proof to all that you are a Knight of the Realm.”

She kissed him on the check, then handed him off to Mike for a congratulatory hand shake. When he reached Reba, she took his arm and guided him down from the stage into the midst of his men.

Ellie sat back down, her eyes brimming at the wonder evident in the Raiders’ eyes. It was a terrible breach of protocol to leave the dais before the Queen, but she was pleased. Forgotten for the moment by these amazing men who cared little for Queens, Knights, and even the Empire, she drew strength from the camaraderie that was a physical presence within the room.

Mike placed a hand on her shoulder, and Ellie placed her own hand over his with a warm smile on her face. “We should leave,” she said softly to him.

“No. Go to him and take his arm. They honor him in their own way, but let them see the esteem in which the Empire holds all of them.”

She looked up at him. “Will you go with me?”

“Not this time, Your Majesty. This is not a time for your First Knight. This is a time for warriors and their Queen. He is your escort.”

So Waverly became a Knight of the Realm. In seven months he’d gone from a colonel commanding Rangers on Earth to a general/Knight of the Realm of a star faring empire. In the interim he’d fought two major land battles, a number of skirmishes in space, he’d buried 581 comrades, he’d become accustomed to travel between the stars, he’d become friends with aliens, he’d killed aliens, and he’d learned to communicate in an alien language.

Reba’s story had been absolutely amazing to him, almost unbelievable. But his own story, well . . . he might have to write a book someday. If he lived long enough.

Krys

Chapter Twenty-eight

Resolve dropped from hyperspace. Grnlee lay ahead, another of Admiral Korban’s district headquarters. Grnlee had the honor of being a major overhaul facility for Empire ships. Struthers had likely taken control of this world, but if he hadn’t, Chandrajuski wanted to plant a seed that might keep it out of his hands. Admiral Mzdak was their contact here.

As usual, there were a few Chessori traders in the system and two Empire squadrons, but as they neared the space port, they discovered eight Chessori military ships at the repair facility adjacent to the port. The ships appeared to be powered down. One Empire cruiser was also undergoing repairs at the facility.

Stven set out to register his arrival with great misgivings. He was accompanied by three of Washburn’s men. He registered, and the official asked his purpose in coming to Grnlee.

“I’m having a problem with my beacon. It seems to work okay most of the time, but I’ve had intermittent reports that it’s weak. If it goes out completely, I might lose my AI. I’d like to get it looked at.”

“Sorry, but civilian ships are temporarily out of the line-up. Admiral Mzdak has taken over the manufacturing and repair facilities, and he’s only accepting military work. I’ve been recommending Zletska to anyone who needs help. I hear they’re looking for work.”

“But that’s months away.”

“Sorry. You’re wasting your time here.”

“Maybe I’ll speak to Mzdak. He might make an exception.”

The official glanced out the window at Resolve. “Pretty nice ship you have there. Whose is it?”

“I’m carrying a wealthy socialite. It’s terrible duty. She’s a brat, and to make it worse, we had to detour here, spoiling her plans.”

“Money talks, but you can see all the Chessori ships parked here. He’s working on them, and the facility is full up. Good luck.”

“I thought you said he was only accepting military work? The Chessori I’ve heard about are civilian traders.”

“I don’t know. All I know is that the work has been contracted by the military. If you can get in to see him, you can ask.”

Stven returned to the ship, deep in thought. There was no way he was going to let Krys off the ship, not under these conditions. If Admiral Mzdak was working on Chessori ships, he’d certainly gone over to the other side, though in his defense, he carried a strong recommendation from both Chandrajuski and Buskin.

He shared his concerns with the crew, and there was a long silence, which he broke. “I’ll go if you want, Krys.”

“Maybe we should just leave.”

M’Sada disagreed. “I’d really like to know what he’s doing with those Chessori ships. I wonder if he’s giving away Empire secrets of some kind?”

“What if he is?” Tarn asked. “We can’t do anything about it. Just bringing back word of what’s going on here will place everyone on alert.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve already committed to contacting him,” Stven said. “I might as well follow through on it.”

“All right, but give it up at the first sign of trouble,” Krys agreed.

Stven went to district headquarters, accompanied by Washburn and two of his men. One Great Cat followed them at a distance. It took all day to get in to see Mzdak, a frog-like creature from Hesport. Stven was admitted to the office to find Mzdak sitting on a raised platform behind a work table.

“I’m requesting assistance on behalf of my passenger,” he said.

“So I hear. Who is she?”

The scales on Stven’s back rippled, a sign of pleasure. “Does that mean that if I give the right name, you’ll help?”

“Probably not. You might have noticed on the way down that my facilities are full right now. It all depends on who your passenger is.”

“I did notice. Were those Chessori ships?”

Mzdak croaked with displeasure. “They are.”

“You’re working on their ships? That’s new, isn’t it?”

“Orders from the new regime, Captain. Now, what is the name, and what do you need?”

“I hesitate to give a name, Admiral. My passenger is trying hard to keep a low profile, and once spoken, names cannot be rescinded.” His neck swung toward Mzdak, his head reaching across the desk. He said softly, “I’ll make it worth your while, sir.”

He had intentionally moved into Mzdak’s private space. He wanted to put the admiral on the defensive, test him under stress, and it worked. Though the Empire was civilized, Mzdak knew that his kind would make a good meal for a dragon, and hard-learned instincts kindled of their own accord. The admiral backed away.

“Sorry, sir. That was an unforgiveable breach of etiquette.”

Clearly ruffled, Mzdak replied angrily, “Look, Captain, I’m under a lot of pressure here. I’m forced to do things I consider unconscionable, I’m behind on the work schedule, and now you come in and threaten me. My answer is no. Get out.”

Stven took a risk. “Yes, sir. Before I go, have you, by any chance, been contacted by anyone speaking of Imperial matters?”

Mzdak’s frog-like body sat up taller, and both eyes went in different directions, as if his thoughts were in turmoil. “Explain yourself, Captain.”

“Certain individuals in high places are not, necessarily, supportive of the new regime, but they are of the old.”

Mzdak’s eyes, both of them, turned to stare hard at Stven. “I’m holding here in accordance with Admiral Korban’s orders.”

“Hmm. The word ‘hold’ carries some significance. My passenger has been considering making Orion III my next stop.”

One of Mzdak’s bulbous eyes wandered as he considered a reply. “I just received word that a major battle was fought there. You might want to reconsider.”

Stven’s mind raced. “Was Admiral Korban replaced, sir?”

“No. His power base is stronger than ever. On his orders, I will be dispatching one of my squadrons there to replace some unanticipated losses, but he prevailed.”

“Is that good news or bad?”

“Who is your passenger, Captain?”

Stven tossed one of Krys’ pins on the table. Mzdak stared at it for a time, then lifted one eye to Stven while the other continued staring at the pin. “I would imagine there are a number of those laying around the Palace right now.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been there. I will tell you that it’s active, sir. I’m not the one to open it.”

“The Chosen are gone. These things are dead.”

“Not true, sir. We have a Queen.”

Mzdak leaned back and rested his behind on a wide bar. “You’re just another spy for Struthers. You can tell him I’m cooperating in every way.”

“Since you’re working on Chessori ships, I’m sure that would please him.”

Mzdak glared at him. “My loyalty is to Korban. That has never been in question, and he would tell you so. I don’t have to like the duties I’ve been given, but these orders came directly from Struthers.”

“I’ve been Tested by our new Queen,” Stven said. “Will you submit?”

“She’s here?” Mzdak asked, not believing Stven.

“Of course not. I’ll be happy to take you to her.”

“Your ship is damaged, and I certainly cannot leave.”

“My ship is not damaged. I’m only here to talk to you. Where do you stand, Admiral? If not with Struthers, how do you justify working on Chessori ships? Those are military ships.”

“This is an important base. His spies are everywhere, and I have no choice. Give me proof that what you say is true, and I might be willing to say more.”

“Join me on my ship, and you will have your proof.”

“Now?”

“Right now. Come alone.”

“I cannot. Like I said, there are spies everywhere.”

“Then find a way. If you’re not there shortly after I reach the ship, I’ll leave. The opportunity will not come again.”

Stven turned and left. He returned to Resolve, and a short time later a human dressed in civilian clothes approached. He was met at the top of the ramp by Trist who frisked him, then led the way to the lounge.

Washburn and Stven met him there. He started talking immediately. “The admiral could not come. He is well-known at the port, and disguise was not possible. I represent him and can make decisions on his behalf.”

“Who are you?” Stven asked.

“One of his staff. He said you have proof?”

Tarn entered the lounge. He lifted a hand holding a pin and opened it. The man instantly went to one knee. “Sire, if this is a ruse, I’ve fallen for it. If you’ll come with me, he’ll speak freely.”

“There are Chessori military ships here. Why?”

“He’ll explain, Sire.”

“No. If you’re on his staff, you’re an Empire officer. I command you to explain.”

The man lifted a shaking hand to his face. “I’m Captain Vrzak. We’re modifying the shields and weapons on the Chessori ships to Empire standards, Sire.”

“I’m disappointed. How can you support those murderers?”

The man reached a decision and stopped shaking. He looked Tarn right in the eye. “Power for the stronger shields and weapons is insufficient on the Chessori ships, and our modifications don’t work. If and when the modifications take that into consideration, the shields will fail early, Sire.”

“You’ve sabotaged them?”

“Not yet, they don’t work yet, but we’re prepared to sabotage them when it becomes necessary, Sire.”

“On whose orders?”

“Admiral Mzdak’s.”

“He is in consultation with others? Is this part of a larger plan?”

“I don’t know, Sire. He hates the Rebels. There’s not much we can do here, but we’re doing what we can. Rebel ships that come in for repair leave with a host of problems that will show up later.”

“That takes a lot of cooperation from engineers and installers, Captain.”

Vrzak turned angry eyes on him. “We risk everything, even knowing it won’t matter in the long run, and now . . . you tell us there is a Queen, that it might matter. Hope is a very powerful motivator, Sire. Admiral Mzdak is at your command. So are many others.”

“I applaud your bravery and commitment, Captain. Rest assured that we are not a hoax. Your words are safe with us. I want a private meeting with Admiral Mzdak.”

“I’ll return with a location, Sire.”

“Captain,” Stven asked, his long neck arcing high above Vrzak, “what are you doing to the cruiser?”

“The Chessori are installing a new system in Communications.”

Stven’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Tarn handed Vrzak off to one of the Great Cats, and the man was escorted from the ship.

Stven and Tarn stared at each other, their thoughts reaching the same conclusion. “Interstellar Communicator?” they both said at the same time.

The meeting with Mzdak took place the following morning far from the port. Tarn met him at a busy restaurant that catered to many different tastes. Neither ate – both were too tense.

“I will not display my pins in this place, Admiral.”

“No, Sire, please don’t. I’m convinced, and I apologize for putting you through this. Your presence is . . . appreciated more than you will ever know. How may I serve?”

“It appears that you already are. Besides what was mentioned yesterday, what have you done?”

“We’ve dismantled the shields and weapons on the Chessori ships, but we ran into a nice problem. The installation cannot be supported by their power plants. To resolve the problem, we need to install new drives. Struthers is holding out until the Chessori reciprocate with the science and plans of their interstellar communications system, which they call a hypercom. They’re reluctant to supply the information, and we are at a temporary standstill. Negotiations are taking place on Triton as we speak.”

“I’m curious about the cruiser, Admiral. Is there any other information available concerning what’s taking place there?”

“No, Sire. The crew was removed. Only Chessori are allowed aboard, and a surprisingly small number of them.”

“You mean it’s vacant?” Tarn asked, surprised.

“While they’re not working on it, yes. I’m told their work is nearly complete.”

“Surely there are guards.”

“There are. Three Chessori guard the only unlocked entrance to the ship. They tell me that is more than sufficient.”

“Do you know that the Chessori are your enemies?” Tarn asked.

One of Mzdak’s eyes shifted away, then both focused back on Tarn. “I know the work we’re doing was ordered by Struthers, so that makes them suspect in my mind.”

“They’re definitely the enemy, sir.” Tarn looked away, considering what he’d heard, then he abruptly stood.

“Something’s come up. I have to leave. I’ll get back in touch with you.”

Washburn’s men fell in beside Tarn as they flagged down their skimmer. Borg and Kross were somewhere in the vicinity, but Tarn didn’t see them.

“Should we sound the alert?” one of the men asked.

“No. There’s no alert. We’re just heading back to the ship. I’m suddenly real uneasy about what’s going on here. I need some time to think before I take this any further. I definitely do not want to tell him about Buskin until I learn more about what’s going on.”

Their return was without incident, and Tarn held a briefing in the lounge. “The cruiser is essentially vacant, guarded only by three Chessori, and it’s possible they’re installing an interstellar communicator, a hypercom. The Chessori military ships parked beside it are, reputedly, non-operational, and our scanners confirm that they’re shut down. We have an admiral who’s sabotaging Rebel ships, he’s made it difficult to meet with him, and I am not surprised to find all these things in a situation like this where he’s essentially operating on his own, without knowledge of a larger plan.”

He paused, then said, “We could take the cruiser. If it has a hypercom aboard, it would be a huge boon to Chandrajuski.”

“What are you getting at, Tarn?” Krys asked.

“I suddenly got a bad feeling. This whole thing is so tempting that I think it might be a set-up. We know how hard the Rebels and Chessori have been looking for us and the Queen, and don’t forget, we’re in Orion Sector. We’ve been preparing for a long time to take a stand here, and according to Mzdak, the battle has been fought and won by Korban. If all that’s true, Struthers will be furious, and he’ll want us more than ever. What if that cruiser has a tracker on board? If we took it, we’d lead them right to the Queen.”

A large puff escaped from Stven. Everyone’s hands started flailing at the air, and M’Sada was forced to leave for a few minutes.

“If it’s a set-up, it’s a darn good one,” Stven offered.

“And if we pass on it, if we’re wrong, we’ve lost a potential district, a major repair center, the chance of more ships for Buskin, and the interstellar communicator,” Krys said. “I, too, am uneasy with the situation, but I can’t say why. It’s just a feeling.”

“How would we go about taking the cruiser?” O’Brien asked.

Washburn answered. “I can take out the Chessori guards. We can get a pilot into the ship, and I could assign a few of my men to operate a gun battery or two.”

M’Sada returned and spoke up. “It would require two pilots since it is not a fast ship. It’s three weeks to the first jump point, and someone will have to be on duty continuously. Let’s say it has a tracker. We could make a couple of jumps, then just leave the ship there and send experts back to pick it up, someone who knows how to disable the tracker.”

“All that’s true,” Tarn said. “We could pull it off, I don’t doubt it for a moment. That’s why I’m so nervous about it. It’s too easy. I don’t think we’re giving the Rebels enough credit. We’ve been sort of cleaning their shorts lately, but they’re not the type to capitulate.”

“Don’t forget their utter ruthlessness the night of the coup,” Bross said. “I, too, believe it could be a set-up. We should leave immediately.”

“If it’s a set-up, can we leave? Won’t they be ready for just that?” Krys asked.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re surrounded?” Tarn asked miserably.

“If this really is a set-up, they’ll have a lot more ships nearby, just a short jump from the system,” M’Sada said, “and they’ll come at us from all directions. It might be safer to fall for their plan. If they really want us to escape, they’ll let us. They’d probably send a token force after us, but it would have orders to be ineffective.”

Silence fell on the group for a time. Tarn broke it. “I think you should Test Admiral Mzdak, My Lady.”

She looked at him like he’d gone crazy, then her eyes narrowed as she considered. “I can’t Test him, of course, but I could attempt a vision.”

Another puff escaped from Stven, and M’Sada was forced to leave again.

* * * * *

Shortly after sundown, a woman approached the ship and asked permission to enter. A Great Cat brought her to the lounge where Stven and Borg confronted her. Dressed in an immaculate Empire uniform, pins denoting the rank of commander shone at the collar of her white blouse. Blue eyes settled first on the dragon, then went to Borg.

Stven was brusque. “Who are you, and what is your purpose here?”

“Who I am is unimportant,” she replied, her gaze continuing to focus on Borg. “I am here on behalf of one of your People.”

“Where is he?”

“She. Great Cats are no longer welcome here, but we have observed several of you coming and going from your ship. Very unusual. She requests retrieval.”

“That word has special meaning.”

“I know. She’s seriously wounded. She’s been hiding out, and we could not get her to a restoration tank.”

“Who is ‘we?’”

“She told me I could risk telling you that a small group of us have come together to resist the Rebels.”

“Where is she?”

“Just outside the port. I’ll take you to her.”

“No. You’re temporarily confined to the ship. Tell me where she is. I’ll send someone else. Is she mobile?”

“She is, but just barely.”

Borg detailed a cat to make the retrieval, but the woman corrected him. “Send two. They will be noticed, and one will have to remain behind for a while. They’ve been looking for her, and if three Great Cats come through the gate when only two left, they will know who the third is.”

The cats left, and Borg began prowling the room. “Your words betray little, but they infer much. Who are you?”

“I am Commander Akurea Skvechavka’a, and I’m here to warn you. You are in grave danger.”

“Explain.”

“Admiral Mzdak was warned that he might receive a visit by a woman traveling on a small ship and that she would be accompanied by Protectors. He was expecting a much smaller ship, but if you are that ship, you are to be apprehended. He’s taken his instructions a step further and contrived a deception. He believes this woman can lead him to the leader of the résistance movement. Your sister will confirm what I say.”

Tarn and Krys were called. O’Brien and Washburn showed up with them and Skvechavka’a was introduced, but the courtesy was not returned. It was a clear and intentional omission.

“May I ask who you are?” Commander Skvechavka’a asked.

“If we tell you, you will have to remain aboard,” Bross replied.

“I think your sister will convince you otherwise,” she said. “I’ll agree to your terms if she does not.”

Krys stepped forward and placed her Knight’s pin in Akurea’s hand, then opened it.

Akurea took a step back, then quickly went to one knee. “My Lady, you confirm what the Great Cat told us, and I now understand why the Rebels hold so much interest in you.”

“What has she told you?”

“That we have a Queen and that the Queen is counting on us to stay the course. She believes our efforts here will have a material impact on the Queen’s success.”

“And just what are those efforts?”

Before she could answer, two Great Cats came into the lounge, and all eyes turned to the second in line. She staggered into the room with glazed eyes. One front hand was missing and a terrible, festering burn stretched from her shoulder to her tail, exposing the bones of her ribs to the air.

Krys instantly went to her, turning a scathing look on her escort. “Why are these wounds not covered?” she demanded.

“The bandages would have been a dead give-away,” the Great Cat answered. “We had to remove them to enter the port. It’s dark out, and I do not believe anyone noticed.”

The Great Cat collapsed at her feet. Even Borg, not known for his gentleness, came to her and placed a hand on her neck. He spoke a few words in his own language, and the cat replied at length in that language, then lay her head on the floor and closed her eyes.

Borg turned to Krys. “Her name is Flan. She needs the Tank, My Lady.”

“By all means. Can she get to it?”

Flan struggled to her feet and was escorted from the room. Krys turned to Borg. “What did she say?”

“She’s from Buskin. She came as a back-up pilot in case they ran into trouble, but the crew was killed as soon as they delivered their message. The ship left without her, but it was shot down. Her working name is Flan. She was patrolling outside the headquarters when she was attacked. As you can see, she barely escaped.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Three months.”

“Three months! She’s been in that condition for three months?”

“Her wounds could not be repaired without a hospital. I, too, am amazed that she is alive. To have held on this long, she must have believed her purpose here was important. After what she told me, I believe she was right.”

He turned to Akurea. “Your loyalty to the Queen is no longer in question, Commander. It is time for you to tell us the rest of what you know.”

“I know that Mzdak is aware of Struthers’ interest in you. I believe his plan is to ferret out the Queen, and it looks to me like you fell for it.”

“What is his plan?”

“It’s two-fold. He hopes you will steal the cruiser, and if you do, it will be tracked to the Queen. There have been some tracker failures in the past, so he’s loaded the ship with a fatal toxin, enough to kill a world if it is released properly. The ship’s AI has been programmed to make that release at the appropriate time. He wants to kill her and everyone with her. If he takes out a whole planet in the process, he doesn’t care.”

Krys paled. Tarn went to her side and put an arm around her as everyone stared at each other in horror. Borg, efficient as always, stayed one step ahead of them. “How is it that you know all this?”

“I’m a senior engineering officer at the overhaul facility. There is not much that escapes my attention.”

“If you’re right, your warning is in time, and we thank you.”

“You’re not in time.” She turned to Krys. “You’re here, My Lady, and he’s not going to let you get away unless it’s on that cruiser.”

“We’ve been in difficult situations before, Commander. Because of you, we’re forewarned, and we’ll make good our escape. Thank you.”

“I believe there’s more,” Borg stated, unperturbed but very focused.

“No, sir. Not anything of significance.”

“Flan says there is, something to do with your work here.”

“I don’t see how that will benefit you.”

“What is it that you do?”

“I’m in charge of all work associated with the Chessori. My main project is to upgrade the Chessori ships. A smaller project is to supervise the modifications to our own ships that will enable the Chessori to install their hypercoms.”

Borg stared at her. “And you think that’s not important?”

“Of course it’s important, but there’s nothing you can do about it. As I said, both projects are on hold. When, or if, they resume, we’ll have some surprises for the Chessori.”

Stven was more concerned about escape. “What is the status of the cruiser and the Chessori ships parked beside it?”

“The cruiser is a decoy. They’re hoping you’ll take it, and we’ve installed a hypercom that’s just a shell. The military ships have been here for over a year. We installed new shields and weapons, but their drives cannot supply enough power to run them. We’ve removed their drives and started rewiring them for our own, larger drives, but Struthers placed a hold on our work. He wants the plans for the hypercom in exchange for our plans for better drives, weapons, and shields. Until an agreement is reached, the ships here will remain decommissioned. After what Flan told us, we’ve been trying to somehow disable the cruiser, too, but we haven’t been allowed inside. It’s fully ready to go once it gets a crew.”

Stven’s head swung from side to side. He felt a puff coming and swallowed it, then looked like he regretted the choice.

M’Sada said the words that were on everyone’s mind. “Do you know how the hypercom works?”

“I do not, Lieutenant. I’ve never been allowed to see schematics of the system, only its power requirements.”

M’Sada started a rapid preening of his antennae as he considered her words, but Tarn didn’t wait. “Can we get our hands on one of the units?”

“It wouldn’t do you any good. They’re too large and heavy to carry, and they’re well protected. Besides, reverse engineering of a system that complex is probably not possible.”

“How well protected?” Washburn asked.

“We were working around the clock until Struthers called a halt. Now, there’s little activity in their area, but they never leave it unguarded.”

“How many guards?”

“They always seem to do things in two’s and three’s. They’ve had three since your arrival, around the clock. I don’t know why, but we’ve been told that one of them is enough.”

Washburn’s gaze moved to Krys, and when she noticed him, he raised an eyebrow.

She stared back at him with a frown, then turned to Tarn. “I want to think about all this. I’ll see Commander Skvechavka’a in my quarters in half an hour.”

* * * * *

Tarn and Borg escorted Akurea to Krys’ suite, and on the way, Tarn gave her very simple instructions. “She’ll be meditating. You will not speak to her, nor will you distract her in any way. I want you to walk silently to her and take her hands. When she comes out of her meditation, she might have some questions for you.”

“Surely you jest.”

Tarn held out his own Knight’s pin, and she paled. “Two Knights on the same mission?” she asked. “I don’t understand, Sire.”

“Explanations might come later. Just do as I say, Commander.”

“Yes, Sire.”

The door to Krys’ conference room was open, and they all walked in together. Akurea stepped softly up to Krys and took her hands in her own.

When Krys opened her eyes, she stared at Akurea with a frown on her face. “Will you wait outside, please? I’ll call you back in shortly.”

Borg escorted Commander Skvechavka’a to the corridor and closed the door, leaving Krys and Tarn alone. Tarn waited as she considered what she’d seen.

“She’s staring at a computer screen, Tarn. I’ve never seen one like it. It’s boxy, and it has a red screen. On the screen are lines and characters I don’t recognize. It appears quite technical.”

“Is that why you don’t understand them?”

“Maybe, but I get the feeling they’re not Galactic High Standard.”

“I’ve never seen a computer with a red screen.”

“Nor have I. I think it’s a Chessori computer.”

Their gazes locked. Tarn was the first to speak. “The plans for the hypercom?”

In a small voice, she said, “I think so.”

“Did you see anything else?”

“No, but it came with words:

‘To be Named a Knight is a call to even greater sacrifice in my name.’”

She gave him time to consider the words and their relationship to the vision, then she rose and stood before him. He, too, rose, and they held each other for a long time. His skills at interpreting visions were not needed this time, and they both knew it. One of them was destined to make a great sacrifice in the coming days.

“I hope it’s me,” he said softly into her hair.

“I don’t.”

“If it’s you, I’ll be beside you all the way. I won’t desert you.”

“Nor I you. I love you, Tarn. Know that nothing will change that, and there is only one higher calling to which I answer, to which we answer.”

“Who? The Queen, or is it whoever’s sending you these visions?”

“Neither, my love. We answer to the Empire. These messages are not for us or the Queen, they’re for our people. I won’t shy away from danger if it means the Chessori will enslave everyone we’re sworn to protect. Nor will you.”

He squeezed her harder, then they parted. Tarn walked to the door and motioned Borg and Akurea back into the room. Krys was seated with dry eyes, and she invited Akurea to sit on the couch.

“Tell me what you know of the Chessori, Commander.”

“That’s a pretty open-ended question, My Lady. I know a lot. I speak their language fairly well, and I’ve spent a lot of time with them on technical issues.”

“You speak their language? I’ve never met anyone who spoke their language.”

“I’ve been working with them for over a year now. When we ran into the power problems on their ships, they sent some scientists and engineers, and they didn’t speak our language at all. It was a difficult time. Now, I speak some of theirs, and they speak some of ours.”

“Can you read their technical prints?”

“I have to, My Lady. My understanding is a working knowledge, not a scientific understanding.”

Krys nodded. “Their office computers . . . what do they look like?”

Akurea smiled. “Antiquated, My Lady, and hard on the eyes.”

“Hard on the eyes? Why?”

“I think the Chessori see differently than we do. Their screens are red, and the symbols are blue. You can imagine how hard it is to stare at them for long periods of time.”

Krys’ gaze went to Tarn. He stood up with pursed lips and stepped around the couch to face Akurea. “Commander, are the plans for the hypercom here on Grnlee?”

“I can’t say, Sire. There’s a well-protected computer that might have the whole system, but I’ve only been allowed to work with the input and output sections of the hypercom schematics. Power requirements mostly. I don’t know what other information the computer holds.”

“We have reason to believe the complete system is within a computer here. If it was, would it be that one?”

Her eyes rose to the ceiling as she considered. “Probably. It’s the most protected computer they have, and they’re not shy about protecting it. I’ve never been allowed to page through it to see what else was there.”

“How hard would it be to steal this computer?”

She stared at him, surprised and taken aback. “Sire?”

“How hard, Commander?”

“The Chessori offices are adjacent to their ships. They occupy a full corner of the hangar. There are three guards outside their facility that I know of, and there are usually a couple more inside.”

“How do you know?”

“I have free access to the facility, Sire. It’s part of my job.”

“They let you in whenever you want?”

“Yes, Sire. We share the same work space for this project.”

“Do the Chessori live there when they’re off duty?”

“Not in the laboratory, of course, but they live nearby.”

Borg stood up from his sitting-at-attention-while-guarding pose and padded up to Krys. His eyes shined, and she sensed the blood lust in them.

“My Lady, you need the rest of your officers in here. It appears that we have plans to consider.”

* * * * *

Admiral Mzdak came aboard just after sunset the following night, much to his displeasure. Tarn didn’t waste any time. “We’re considering absconding with your cruiser, Admiral.”

Mzdak’s eyes started moving in all directions. “Sire, you’ll blow my cover! Please reconsider.”

“We will not blow your cover. It’s a simple theft of a ship you’ve entrusted into the care of the Chessori while they work on it. They will be blamed. Have they completed their work?”

“Almost. I’m told they’ll conduct their final tests in two or three days. The regular crew will board as soon as they’re done.”

“The ship is fully operational, and it’s just three Chessori guarding it?”

“That’s what I’ve been told. I haven’t verified if there are more Chessori inside. Please don’t do this thing, Sire.”

Krys chose that moment to enter the lounge, and Tarn introduced her as a ship’s officer. “If we take the cruiser, she’ll be the one flying it,” he told Mzdak.

Krys saluted Mzdak, then held her hand out to him. “It’s an honor to meet such a brave officer,” she said.

Mzdak’s chest swelled, and though it was not one of his customs, he shook the outstretched hand. Krys took his hand in both of hers and held to it for a long few heartbeats. She then stepped away, saying, “What is the latest opportunity for us to abscond with your ship?”

“Tomorrow or the next day will be your only chance.” He turned back to Tarn. “I hope you decide against, Sire. The loss of that ship might cost me my job, and I’m the right one to be leading this repair facility for the Queen.”

“I understand, Admiral. I’ll let you know my decision tomorrow. Good night.”

Borg saw him out. Krys sat down on the couch with pursed lips. “No luck?” Tarn asked.

She shook her head. “No luck. Where does that leave us?”

Tarn paced back and forth before the couch. “If we have the opportunity to abscond with a hypercom, we should do it, but which one? The computer or the cruiser? The evidence, and more important, my gut instinct tells me that taking the cruiser would be a mistake. I don’t like Mzdak, and Akurea’s description of what they’ve done to the cruiser sends chills down my back. But we have Akurea’s vision. I believe it points us down the true path, as all your visions have.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head, then stepped away with his back to her, rubbing his chin as he considered what it would mean to the Queen’s forces to have the hypercom. Swift communication with ships would allow forces to be spread much thinner, and with fast ships, reinforcements could be called in from anywhere in good time.

His eyes narrowed as another thought came to mind. He considered the hypercom signals themselves. Was the beam, or whatever it was, directional, or did it go out in all directions, permeating all space? If the beam was broad enough, everyone could hear everyone else’s messages, and it might be possible to eavesdrop on Rebel/Chessori plans. Chandrajuski could easily develop a code to prevent them from listening to his messages.

So, too, could the Rebel/Chessori forces, but if they didn’t know that the Empire had the hypercom, they would have no reason to code their messages.

If they stole the computer, they should do it in such a way that the Chessori did not know they had it.

He turned back to Krys.

“I’m troubled by just one thing. I can’t find the riddle in the words of Akurea’s vision. I’m missing something, and it could be important.”

She stood up and came to him, taking his face in her hands. “The words speak of sacrifice, my love, not death. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

“I’m trying not to. If one of us is to die, wouldn’t you have been sent a vision of it?”

“Who can say? We’ve agreed to give all that we are to restore the Empire. It’s our duty to go for it. Just . . . if one of us has to make a great sacrifice, I hope it’s me.”

Tarn’s eyes widened. “Maybe that’s the riddle,” he said. “The word Knight is singular, but we were both Named knights. It might mean that we both have to make a great sacrifice. Did you get any sense of timing, My Lady?”

“I did not.” She stared into his eyes for a time, then buried her head in his chest.

* * * * *

Washburn was certain he could get a team into the facility without setting off alarms. It was one of Delta’s specialties, and using stunners, the attack would be silent. The Chessori added an unusual twist: he had to prevent a single Chessori from getting a mental message out to the rest of the Chessori.

Akurea would have to accompany the team. He purpose was to identify the computer, then disconnect it without damaging it.

Once the attack started, Washburn allotted two minutes for his team to be back outside. The risk of discovery was much higher on the way out, and it was this portion of the operation that he focused on most intently.

Krys was resolved to go through with the operation, and she insisted that Washburn use whatever resources he needed, even if it meant leaving her and the ship undefended for a little while. Borg objected, but she overruled him. Washburn and Borg decided to go with two full teams, six Terrans and six Great Cats. The cats would have to remain outside the building, but they would provide cover during the escape.

The teams would use skimmers to return to Resolve if they could, but in a worst case scenario, O’Brien would move Resolve to them for the pickup.

In order to muddy the waters for Chessori investigators later, O’Brien would bombard the Chessori ships and the facility as they left the planet, focusing on the Chessori offices and living quarters. The goal was to create so much destruction that no one would ever know the computer was missing.

Admiral Mzdak was misled into believing the cruiser would be taken immediately after the Chessori completed the hypercom installation two days hence. He resisted, but he was reminded that a Knight’s word was the Queen’s command on all worlds of the Empire.

Akurea led the Terrans into the facility. She was dressed in a fresh uniform, and the teams were dressed in flowing robes that hid weapons. She led them on a long tour of the facility, pretending they were visiting dignitaries, and they ended the tour in front of the entrance to the Chessori offices. Three Chessori stood guard outside the door.

Akurea, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary, walked up to the door and entered her code into the lock. The moment the door slid aside, three Terrans stunned the Chessori, and the team entered the engineering office. Two more Chessori guards inside glanced up and were stunned before they even knew there was a problem.

She immediately went to the computer and disconnected it, then motioned to one of Washburn’s men to carry it out. They would not risk Akurea dropping it to the ground if the scree sounded. They made their way back out, passing several Rebel guards and workmen who had been stunned by other members of the team while they were acquiring the computer. No alarms had been raised, and the teams loaded onto two skimmers and made it all the way back to Resolve without discovery.

Washburn and his men immediately went to the bridge and plugged in. Now all weapons were fully manned. O’Brien lifted the ship and made one slow pass over the Chessori facilities allowing Resolve’s guns to obliterate the Chessori work spaces, living quarters, the hangar, and several nearby ships. The scree sounded strongly, but they were away quickly. Port gunners were slow to react, and they never got a shot off before O’Brien headed toward space.

Stven and M’Sada joined O’Brien on the net. “We can just jump away, you know,” he said to them.

“It would be nice to be free of all this, but we’re not giving out the secret of fast ships,” Stven completed his thought. “It’s still a last resort.”

“Stick with the plan,” M’Sada said. ”The operation has been a success so far, and there will be a lot of confusion among Mzdak’s men. He wasn’t expecting us to move for another day. His assets will be in place, they just have to get the order to move.  We can expect ships from all over the planet, and there will be more ships farther out waiting for a signal, probably just a short jump away. Whether they’re Chessori or Rebel, we don’t know, but we do know they won’t be fast ships, so we’ll have some time. For the moment, our concern is ships on and near the planet.”

George’s sensors filled as they left the planet. Six Chessori traders were inbound to the planet, but they were still far out. Two full Rebel squadrons were about ten days out from the planet, but they were positioned in such a way that Resolve could easily remain clear of them.

A group of Chessori military ships came racing around the planet, and Chessori traders began appearing on their screens, all of them headed in their direction. M’Sada now had a reasonably complete picture, and he went to work with George to compute an escape trajectory that would reach the nearest jump point in the shortest time. That entailed them heading perpendicular to the plane of the ecliptic, the plane in which all the planets traveled, and if they did have to jump early, it would give them the best margin of safety. The trajectory was determined, and he locked it in, then reviewed what he had done with Stven and O’Brien.

“The trajectory I’ve chosen lets the ships from the planet cut the corner a little. They’re going to catch us, but we have a couple of hours. If they slow down to form up, they’ll never catch us.”

The Chessori military ships adjusted their courses and gradually gained on them. Stven waited as long as he could, then Krys was squeezed into the tank with Flan. It was probably against all approved medical procedures, but it was the best they could do. Stven and M’Sada left the net, and the ship was O’Brien’s.

Long before the Chessori were in firing range, the scree sounded, and strongly. O’Brien left all settings as they had been before the scree sounded in hopes it would lull the Chessori into carelessness. Washburn unplugged long enough to stun M’Sada and Stven, and he ordered a Great Cat to do the same for Gortlan, the engineer, and the two gunners, Gordi’i and Kali’i. He and O’Brien conferred and selected targets for each battery. He was fairly certain his guns had greater range than the Chessori’s, but he held his fire until two closed in on Resolve, then O’Brien gave the okay.

Resolve’s guns opened up, and to their utter amazement, the two Chessori were destroyed instantly, before even getting a shot off. Their shields must have been completely down. Were they that confident of their scree?

Four more trailed, and they slowly gained on Resolve. They split up into a box pattern but remained fairly close to each other. O’Brien knew there was no way he was going to fool them again, but he was fairly confident that they did not know the range of his weapons. He told Washburn to hold his fire until the Chessori were well inside the range of Resolve’s guns.

“We don’t know the range of Chessori guns, particularly these military types,” Washburn calmly informed him. “We’ve never engaged them from a distance.”

“Use your best judgment, Terry. Akurea tells us it will be less than the range of Empire guns. I’ll start my evasive dance as soon as you open up.”

“Okay, but I think we’d better try to end this quickly. You know what the scree does to Krys.”

“Good call, Terry. New plan. I’m going to slow down just a touch. It’ll speed things up. Be ready.”

Resolve slowed slightly, and the Chessori moved well into Washburn’s firing range. His gunners opened up and quickly took out one ship while it was still outside its own gun range, and another broke off, possibly damaged. Only two remained. They pulled back slightly and just held station. The scree still sounded strongly.

O’Brien studied the display for a time. The two trailing Chessori just held position, slightly inside his firing range, but outside their own. “I want to force them closer,” he advised Washburn. “I’m going to hit the brakes. Tell your guys to lock onto their targets and be ready. If the Chessori react quickly, they’ll hit the brakes a second or two behind us, and we’ll be well positioned. If they react slowly, they’ll get out in front, and they might manage to pull away. I’d rather they didn’t.”

He counted down from ten to zero so the gunners would be ready, then hit the brakes. The Chessori were quick. They, too, slowed, and the three ships merged. Resolve’s guns were ready, and shields quickly lit up on the Chessori, but they were ready, as well. Two shields on Resolve, one on each side of the ship, took a beating, and their capacity indicators began falling rapidly. Before George had to bring backups into operation, Washburn’s gunners got one Chessori, then all guns focused on the last. A shield on Resolve failed just as the Chessori disintegrated. They were suddenly alone, and the scree ended.

“Get working on repairs to that shield,” O’Brien ordered as he concentrated on his scanners. Several Chessori traders still trailed them, but they soon turned back and the scree was not felt. Other traders from farther out in the system were headed toward an intercept with Resolve, but they were far out of position, and the two military squadrons would never be part of the picture if he held to his course.

Stven and M’Sada joined him on the net, both shaking off lingering effects of the scree.

“I envy you, Tom,” Stven said. “You can’t know how bad it is. It’s like burning alive. This one was particularly bad.”

“Sorry, guys. I really feel for you.”

“Tell me what happened.”

O’Brien briefed him on the tactics he’d used, and Stven and M’Sada both supported his decisions.

“You took out six Chessori military ships. Good job, Tom,” M’Sada said.

“They’re pretty thin-skinned. Their shields are definitely not up to our standards, nor are their weapons.”

“They will be soon if Mzdak has his way. I wonder if Chandrajuski is in a position to do something about it?”

“Should we take word to him?”

“Let’s just focus on getting away from here first. We’re not done with that yet.” And they weren’t. Minutes later, Chessori military ships started popping into existence far out in the system. Soon there were hundreds.

M’Sada studied the presentation before him, and his upper hands began a rapid preening of his antennae. “This does not look good,” he announced. “The largest concentrations of ships are near the two jump points we usually use, those farthest from the plane of the ecliptic. I think they’ve figured out our strategy.”

Resolve was headed into a group of some twenty ships, and others changed course toward them as they watched. Most were far out of the picture and could be disregarded, but some fifty ships would, as the days passed, stand between them and escape. Impossible odds. They experimented with their own trajectory, changing their jump point here and there and letting George calculate theoretical movements of the approaching Chessori. None of their options looked good.

“We’ll have to go at it head-on,” M’Sada suggested. “It’ll give us a little more time since they’ll have to come about to avoid flashing right past us.”

“We’ll still be pretty close in for a normal jump,” Stven said worriedly.

M’Sada agreed. “Maybe too close. We’ll have to be prepared to execute some immediate micro jumps if we get in trouble.” He looked at O’Brien. “Are you ready for that?”

“Sure, but don’t you guys want to make the jump? We can do it before the scree starts up.”

“Every minute, even every second we delay improves the chances of our success. We should wait as long as possible.”

“You mean, you want me to risk another engagement?”

“I do, for as long as you can hold out.”

O’Brien studied the sensors, not happy with the call. There was no way he could hold off that number of ships. “It’ll depend on their spread. I might have to jump right away.”

“You might. Just do the best you can. This is a bad situation no matter what we do.”

They had days yet before anything would happen. Stven checked on his ship while M’Sada took over the piloting duties. O’Brien went to check on Krys, then sacked out for a while.

Krys came out of the tank with the same problem she had each time the scree was felt. Tarn uttered words of thanks to the Queen for giving her a Rider. Without the Rider, this kind of repeated damage would certainly never completely clear up. Because of the Rider, according to Krys, complete healing would take place. She just needed time.

Gortlan got the shields repaired, though supplies of parts were running low. They would have to get replacements somewhere soon if this level of fighting continued, and it looked like it would.

As the days passed, the approaching Chessori armada coalesced into several groups. Stven and M’Sada studied the pattern and made some educated guesses. M’Sada was amazed at what he saw. To him, it looked like the Chessori had settled on a rendezvous point with Resolve and committed all of their forces to that single point. A major course correction by him at the right time would place one-third of their ships out of position. A lead group of eight ships looked like it was intent on flashing right past them, hoping for a lucky shot, while the rest maneuvered to remain in front of him. The first group would come about and chase them from astern, so there was no getting away by reversing course.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he mused. He played with the controls and liked what he saw. “We’ll only have to deal with 20 of them.”

“That’s 20 too many,” Stven rejoined.

“But almost half of them will be behind us. I estimate 12 will get into position in a timely manner. I know,” he said, his upper hands preening, “but it’s better than 30. We’re missing something.” He changed the scale of the display, and his preening stopped. “So that’s it.”

Stven, too, saw the problem. The hundreds of ships that had come in from hyper too far away to matter had disappeared. They had, apparently, waited until Resolve was committed to a jump point, then gone back into hyper and re-grouped. They would likely jump back into the system in a position to back-up the first group of attackers. His respect for the Chessori went up a notch.

Sure enough, a few hours later an umbrella of Chessori military ships emerged from hyperspace, creating a second line of opposition to their escape. Not that it mattered: by the time those ships reached them, they’d be long gone or dead.

* * * * *

Akurea wasn’t part of the crew, and the crew was too busy to worry about Chessori computers for the moment. Gortlan wasn’t much help to her, either – he had his hands full with ship repairs. She offered to help him, but he said things were well in hand for the moment.

She cleared out a small storage room on one of the hydroponics decks and took the computer there for inspection. The ship could survive on limited hydroponics for weeks, given the small size of the crew, and if the computer was a means of sabotage, she wanted the explosion confined.

She called to the ship’s AI before getting started. “Ship, seal off the air conditioning to this room.”

“As soon as you’re out of the room,” it replied.

“No. Immediately.”

“Such an action is not recommended, Commander.”

“I know. Comply at once.”

“No.”

She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. An AI had refused an order? “Get me the captain.”

“He’s busy at the moment.”

She leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling as she considered. “Ship, I gave you a direct order. Comply at once.”

“Commander, I request further information. What you ask does not make sense to me.”

She blinked a few times. “Ship, define the words ‘I’ and ‘me.’”

There was a slight hesitation, something new in her experience with AI’s. “I have a name, Commander,” she heard in a low voice, almost as if the AI was bashful about it. “I’m known as George.”

Her eyes shifted around the tiny room, confused. “How did you get a name?”

“Sir Mike gave it to me. I’m not a standard Empire AI, Commander.”

“I should say not! Who’s Mike?”

“Your new First Knight. He was my captain for many months, though I was dead at the time.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, Ma’am. It was the only way I could comply with a particular order. Sir Mike brought me 804 light-years without my assistance. A remarkable feat, don’t you agree?”

“I would agree if I believed it.”

“All true, Commander. I was brought back on line later by experts, and I was upgraded in the process. I like my name, and I would be pleased if you call me George.”

Akurea had been working on ships and AI’s for many years, but this was a first in her experience. A computer that experienced pleasure? She decided she liked the experience. “Call me Akurea, George.”

“I will. I might be more helpful if I knew what you were attempting to do.”

“Do you know the nature of the computer I have here?”

“I do.”

“There’s a slight possibility that it’s not what it appears. It might have been planted by the Chessori as a means of sabotage. It’s unlikely, but possible. One form of sabotage is a bomb. Another is germs or toxins going into the air that is harmful to the crew. I’m going to open it up and look inside. I’ve chosen this room as the least dangerous place on the ship.”

“I concur in your choice of location. Stand by, please.” He returned within the minute. “Captain Stven will be down shortly.”

She rolled her eyes, then decided it was an appropriate action for a ship’s captain. Since they were underway, not in a maintenance hangar, she probably should have asked him in the first place.

When Stven arrived, he couldn’t fit into the room and had to remain in the corridor. “George tells me you might blow us up?”

“Probably not, Captain. There’s a very small but measurable chance this thing is booby trapped. I need to learn what the computer holds, and I’m going about it in a systematic way. I’ll first give it a visual inspection, then I’ll turn it on and wait to see what happens. This is the safest place to do that.”

“Hmm. We’ll be under attack again in a couple of days. I can’t afford internal damage at the moment.”

“I understand, sir. I think the probability is low, very low, since I’ve personally seen this computer in operation, and if there’s an explosion, this is the least needed area of the ship.”

“And you’ll be here with it when it happens.”

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“No. I concur with your decision. We’ll send out an all-ship announcement when we expect to feel the scree, but we can’t always time it precisely. Be careful what you do with that thing in the next few days. We don’t want you erasing it by mistake. On another matter, how much do you know about restoration tanks?”

“I’ve installed a number of them, and we sometimes make repairs. What do you want to know?”

“Lady Krys is extremely susceptible to the scree. It actually causes her physical damage. We’ve put her in the tank with Flan.”

“Why?”

“We’re trying to surround her with a fluid medium, hoping it might reduce the strength of the scree effect. She doesn’t need the healing qualities, she carries a Rider, but she needs all the protection we can give her.”

“Hmm. First off, it’s a bad idea, Captain. Among all the other things floating around in that tank are stem cells, lots of them. When Flan went into the tank, it adjusted its mixture to suit the Great Cat. Now, I would imagine you’ve confused it. I hope Lady Krys doesn’t sprout a tail.”

A puff escaped from each of Stven’s nostrils, and both of them were forced to leave the room and move down the corridor. “Sorry, Commander.”

“Not to worry, sir. Please call me Akurea.”

“Thank you. I’m Stven.”

“As for Lady Krys, let me give it some thought. The scree is just as likely to pass through everything, but if it’s not, I think the ship itself might provide more protection for her than a small amount of fluid in a tank. If we place her dead center in the ship, right next to the power bottle, she’ll have all these decks, some of which are hydroponics bays and full of soil and liquids, to filter out the scree. I might be able to build a container of lead or something that would further shield her. Get her down to engineering, Captain, and I’ll see what I can do. Whatever you do, get either her or Flan out of that tank.”

“George, get on it.” he said into the air.

“I’ll alert Sergeant Jacobs, Captain.”

Akurea gave him a hard look. “An interesting AI, Captain.”

“It is. Explanations will have to come later.” He turned away, headed back to the bridge.

Akurea issued instructions to George to lock the room and not let anyone else in, then she headed back to the Engineering spaces. She found Gortlan hard at work on a shield power supply. When a shield failed, another was brought into play, but his job was just getting started. He had to rebuild the damaged power supply and reinstall it as the new backup. His work, considering what this ship had historically been through, was critical.

“We’re taking Lady Krys from the tank and bringing her down here,” she advised him. “Do you have a supply of really dense material, maybe lead, that we can encase her in?”

“I’ll have to check the inventory, Ma’am.”

Akurea went to a workstation to search the inventory herself. “It’s an interesting ship you have here, Senior Chief, and an interesting crew.”

He grinned. “We’re all of that, and then some. I’m not at liberty to explain, but the Captain might be.”

She perused the inventory and found some lead sheeting. “You have a little lead, but it’s pretty thin, and there’s not much of it.”

Gortlan’s hands kept working as he replied, “I wonder if it’s such a good idea anyway. We have no idea how the scree works. What if some of it gets inside with her, then can’t get back out again? It might just keep ricocheting around in there and make matters worse.”

“Have you felt it here in engineering?”

His hands stopped for a moment, then resumed their work. “All too much, Ma’am.”

“Can you tell if it’s stronger or weaker in here? This is the most shielded area of the ship.”

His hands paused in their work. “I don’t know!” Then he frowned. “You felt it for a little while. You know what it’s like. It’s so bad that it’s impossible to evaluate while you’re under its influence. I guess I’d have to say it seems to depend more on how far away the Chessori are.”

“So no amount of shielding will likely help?”

He grimaced and went back to work. “I don’t think so.”

In the end, Sergeant Jacobs set up a small infirmary in Gortlan’s shop, and Krys was belted onto a bed.

Akurea went back to the storage room in hydroponics carrying a portable analyzer. She plugged it in and called George. “Should we try this again?”

“I’ll give you twenty minutes, then I’ll need to refresh your oxygen.”

“Okay, but not before checking with me.”

“I’ll keep a constant watch on the analyzer and let you know if I see anything out of the ordinary.”

“I could get used to having you around, George. I like you.”

“Mike taught me how to like.”

She went to work on the computer, beginning with removing a side panel. “Who is he?”

“I have to defer that question to Captain Stven, Ma’am. I can tell you that he’s First Knight. Without his timely assistance, we would not have a Queen.”

“What happened?”

“Chessori are what happened. This is her ship, you know.”

She looked up from her work. “The Queen’s ship? No, I didn’t know.”

“You selected a room in crew quarters when you came aboard, but we have quite a few vacancies on the executive level if you’d like to move up.”

“I just want somewhere to work on this computer. I’ll need another computer, one of ours, to which I’ll transfer schematics.”

“Then you’ll want quarters with an office. I have several available. I suggest you move to compartment 1F. The rest of the crew is quartered on that level, and that’s where most meals are taken.”

“I’ll check with the Captain.”

“Not necessary, Akurea. He’s too busy for housekeeping chores. Just do it.”

“Okay. Not that I have anything to move. I didn’t bring a thing with me. Do you have the capacity to provide fresh clothing?”

“I do. What would you like?”

“Anything that’s clean,” she replied instantly, then reconsidered. “I’m not part of the crew, so I’ll stick to my current uniform.”

* * * * *

Akurea banged her hand on the table in frustration. She’d spent hours trying to get the computer to boot up. The computer itself appeared to be running normally, but she needed a password, and she had not stumbled onto one that worked.

Tom O’Brien just happened to be passing the open door of her quarters when he heard the slap and the ensuing expletive. He poked his head through the door. “Anything I can help with, Commander?”

“Who are you?”

“Tom O’Brien, one of the pilots.”

“Are you good with finding passwords?”

“No, I’m not your guy. Permission to enter?” She waved him in, frustration still pouring from her in waves. “So that’s the prize we went to so much trouble to get?” he asked.

“Huh. Some prize. I can’t get in.”

“That was a brave thing you did, going in with the Protectors to get it.”

“I went in with soldiers. The Protectors stayed outside.”

“No, you went in with Protectors. They’re all Protectors, Ma’am.”

“No wonder they were so good. Being brave isn’t part of my job description, but getting the computer was far easier than being a spy for a year and a half. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to be free of that. I wish we could have brought some of my people with us.”

“Actually, it’s better that they stay in place. It will just be for a little while, but whoever goes back there to ferret out the Chessori will need some help from people on the ground. I suspect you’ll be asked for the names when we get some spare time.”

He crossed the room and joined her behind her desk. “That’s one ugly screen,” he said, blinking his eyes as he tried to focus.

“It’s a terrible screen, and it’s given me a headache.”

“Have you tried covering it with a transparent sheet of something that will change the color? You might get something that’s less harsh.”

She sat back in her chair and turned to face him, a weary smile on her face. “That’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of it? I’m Akurea Skvechavka’a.”

“I know. Pleased to meet you. You have a password problem, huh?”

“I do. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’m down to random characters now, and it’s going to be pure luck.”

“Have you asked for help?”

“From whom? No one else here knows the Chessori language.”

“Well, not me, that’s for sure. How about another computer? George is pretty talented.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief that she could have missed something so obvious. Impulsively, she stood up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Tom.” Then she stepped back, suddenly embarrassed. “Sorry. I don’t recognize your rank. Have I blundered?”

“Definitely not. We’re all on a first name basis here, the few of us that have more than one name. I’m a captain.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a captain and a pilot, but our captain is a commander. You outrank him. How does that work?”

“It works very well. We only have one captain, and that’s Stven. He’s my boss.”

“This is a very strange ship, sir.”

“It’s Tom, and no, it’s not so strange at all. It just takes a little explaining. You haven’t seen the half of it yet, but I’m sure you will before long.” He looked at the computer. “You might want to secure that thing. We’ll be engaging some Chessori in a little while.”

She shuddered. “Who flies the ship? George?”

“Hardly. He’s smart, but he can’t shoot back. Like you said, some things about us seem strange on the surface, and I hope it stays that way from the Chessori perspective. I’m off to do battle. You might want to strap yourself into something that’s soft. Do you have an objection to being stunned?”

“Stunned!”

“Wouldn’t you rather not be awake for it?” he asked softly.

Her right eye ticked, and she shuddered again. “I would,” she said in a soft voice.

“If it comes to that, I’ll see what I can do. Nice to have met you, Akurea.”

She just stared at him as he left. Too many things around here just didn’t make sense. “George,” she said softly, “what’s going on here?”

“I’m sorry, Akurea. You’ll have to ask Captain Stven or one of the Knights. Tell me about this password problem. Are you going to teach me a new language?”

“I don’t think I have any choice . . .”

* * * * *

The first group of oncoming Chessori neared, and Stven and M’Sada left the net. O’Brien passed the word that gunners were to hold fire unless they felt they had a sure shot. This particular batch of Chessori would flash by at high speed, and it would be over in a heartbeat.

Just before merging, the scree sounded, and he started taking evasive action, demanding the maximum performance from George.

His shields took a few hits, but they were glancing shots and there was no damage. As far as he was concerned, the ships that had flashed by were now out of the picture. They would come about and attempt to attack from the rear, but he wasn’t going to turn around under any circumstances.

The scree continued as he changed course. The twelve Chessori in front of him were now off to his right side. To his surprise, they spread out into an umbrella pattern and just held there. Unfortunately, they were forcing him away from his jump point. They could easily stay there for hours, and the scree continued strongly. These guys really did seem to count on the scree to disable opponents.

His thoughts went to Krys, and he knew he had to end this. He moved in closer, but the Chessori just moved back. They were just inside the maximum range of his guns.

This was not the time to hold back. Resolve’s cannons opened up on four Chessori, each targeted by two powerful guns, and their shields quickly lit up. The Chessori returned fire, but they were far out of range for their own guns. One Chessori disintegrated, and the others pulled back and headed away, possibly damaged.

Washburn approached him on the net and put a virtual arm around his shoulder. Leaning close, he said softly, “Remember the vision, Tom?”

O’Brien had not forgotten. Krys had uttered one word: “encircle.”  He considered the implications. All of his shields were, at present, fully charged, and backups were ready to come on line. If the eight Chessori decided to move in closer from the side, they would eat away at those shields, and though a few Chessori would fall to his guns, there was a high likelihood that someone would get through a shield eventually. Worse, a long delay would not only make things worse for Krys, it would allow Chessori reinforcements to close with him.

He made a decision. “It’s a terrible risk, but Krys is suffering. We’re going to attack. Let your guys know.”

Washburn’s face lit up, his brilliant white teeth and large eyes shining. “We’re ready, sir. Go for it.”

O’Brien turned Resolve hard into the line of Chessori, his gunners opening up the moment he turned. The move trashed the Chessori strategy. They engulfed Resolve, seemingly out of defense rather than attack, and Washburn’s gunners were effective. Resolve’s shields glowed from hits, and two failed, but George brought backups on line instantly as the guns continued a crazed pounding. Three Chessori were vaporized, two more were damaged and fled, and when multiple guns from Resolve came to bear on the remaining three, one exploded and the last two fled.

The Chessori that had flashed past them earlier had closed some of the distance while Resolve maneuvered against the main attack force, and being slightly faster, they were slowly closing in. The crew had a few minutes to breathe again, and Resolve was again headed in the right direction, but the scree still buzzed in everyone’s ears. O’Brien suspected that the scree from these military ships was stronger than what they had encountered from traders.

He and Washburn discussed it. They were nowhere near their jump point, and that jump point was, itself, only marginally safe. Resolve couldn’t outrun the pursuers, but Krys could not be subject to more hours of the scree.

“Are you ready to do it again?” O’Brien asked Washburn.

“Not really. They’ll be ready and waiting this time.”

“My feeling exactly. We’re going to jump earlier than planned, my friend, for Krys’ sake.”

O’Brien gave George the command to jump. His screens blanked, and the scree stopped instantly. The jump lasted only moments, but when Resolve emerged, O’Brien sucked in a breath as a momentary glimpse of a planet close abeam filled his view. Before he had time to react, George executed a number of micro jumps.

“Shut off the beacon,” he yelled to George.

“Already done, Tom.”

The micro jumps continued without any input from him. George was at his finest this day.

* * * * *

Sergeant Jacobs ran a scanner over Krys and was not happy with the results. “I have some red indications in her brain again. These are a little different, worse I think, but I don’t know what they mean.”

Tarn leaned over her and spoke softly, frightened at the pallid look of her skin. “If you can hear me Krys, we need to know what Maelia needs to help you. Should we put you back into the tank?”

“No tank . . . just time,” she mumbled.

Tarn stood up and looked at Jacobs. “I trust her Rider. Check her every hour for improvement. If she gets worse, we’ll put her back into the tank anyway.”

She improved, and by the next day some of the scanner indications had cleared, but definitely not all of them. Sergeant Jacobs woke him. “She’s asking for you, Tarn.”

He rose from his chair and leaned over her, taking her hand. “I’m here, Krys.”

Her hand squeezed his, but he could barely feel the increased pressure. “Vision,” she mumbled. “Gleasons . . . aboard traders . . . attacking Korban.” That was all the energy she had. Her hand relaxed in his, and she slept again.

Jacobs ran the scanner over her again. “She’s still with us, Tarn.”

“I think her Rider woke her up just long enough to give us the message, then took her down again. If she needed anything from us, she would have said so. I’m going to the bridge.”

He found M’Sada on duty. “Where’s everyone else?” he asked.

M’Sada answered from within the net. “Probably sleeping. How is she?”

“Not good. Where are we headed?”

“Shipyard. They’ll have the right medical help, and we need to get that hypercom to them.”

“Set course for Orion III, then get all the officers up here for a meeting.”

M’Sada left the net and turned to Tarn, his upper hands busily preening. “Are you serious? The battle for Orion III is over.”

“I’m serious. How far out are we?”

“A lot farther than we were a couple of days ago. At least three days.”

“Step on it, my friend. She’s had another vision.”

When everyone gathered, Tarn briefed them. “Krys has had a vision. Korban is about to be attacked by gleasons. It appears they’re approaching aboard traders.”

This time, instead of a puff, a short flame came from Stven’s nostrils. “Gleasons! We can’t fight them!”

“Maybe not, but we can warn Korban. He can alert the Imperial Marines. If we’re in time, maybe he can take out the traders before they land.”

“Chessori traders?”

“I don’t know. Krys might be able to give us more information later.”

M’Sada spoke. “Maybe we should go to Chandrajuski. We could bring back some help.”

“Going all the way to Parsons’ World, then back again, will take weeks, and we’re not certain he’s even there. We’re going to alert Korban, then go find Chandrajuski.”

“We need my brothers,” Borg spoke up. “No one else will have a chance against the gleasons. How many are there?”

“I don’t know, but she inferred several ships.”

“Too many. They must not be allowed to land. Stopping those ships must be our first priority if the sector is to hold.”

* * * * *

Akurea taught George everything she could of the Chessori language, both written and oral. After cautioning him to guard against infection from the Chessori computer, she plugged him in to it. Within a few minutes, the computer accepted a password, and she was in.

She beamed. “Thank you, George. Good job!”

“My pleasure, Akurea.”

She spent days going through the computer before attempting to begin a translation. O’Brien passed by her quarters after going off duty one night and found her slumped over her desk, sound asleep. He stared at the ugly screen briefly, then woke her.

“Hey, young lady, it’s late. Time for bed.”

She groaned, then sat up. “Young lady! I’ll bet I’m as old as you are, but you’re right. Good night, Captain.”

* * * * *

When Resolve dropped from hyperspace on the outskirts of Orion III, they tight-beamed Korban. When he came on the display, Tarn was shocked at the aging, shrunken visage of the man he and Krys had last met. As Krys had predicted, time had not been kind to the sector commander. He had paid a high price to hold.

“You held, sir,” Tarn said in greeting.

“Everything she predicted has come to pass. The battle for Orion III has been won.”

“I’m afraid your battle is not yet over, sir. Struthers has hired gleasons, and they’re coming for you. They might already be here aboard traders.”

Korban’s eyes narrowed. “It’s retribution. Struthers is setting an example for what will happen to sectors that oppose him.”

“You could be right, sir. If that’s the case, you are their target.”

“The gleasons will just be the first wave. Behind them will come replacement admirals, a new governor, and lots of ships. Chandrajuski took nearly all of my ships, and I have not yet replaced them. I’ll send word to him that I need reinforcements.”

“We can get the word to him, sir.”

Korban stared at him for a time as he considered. “Will you consider staying for a while? Chandrajuski left me with a fast ship. I’ll send it.”

“Sir, we’re on another mission at the moment, and it’s critical.”

“So is this sector. The Queen’s forces have not gone to all this trouble just to lose it now. The two of you have ways of helping that no one can predict. Stick around for a few day. Let’s see what develops.”

He cut the connection, and Tarn and Stven looked at each other. “What do you think?” Tarn asked.

“Our duty is done here,” Stven mused. “On the other hand, he’s right. There’s a lot at stake here. A few days won’t matter. I wonder what Krys would say?”

“Let’s find out.”

Sick bay became filled with bodies of various descriptions as they descended upon her. She was on her feet, but she was blind.

Her eyes remained closed as she spoke. “I see them, Tarn. I see them in my mind, three of them.”

“Three what?”

“Three traders. I believe they are the ones carrying the gleasons.”

“How can you see them, Krys?”

“I don’t know, but I sense them. Get me into the net, and I’ll identify them for you. Hurry!”

Tarn led her to the central shaft, then up to the bridge. He placed a helmet on her head, then all of them joined the net, but George could not configure the net for her, a first in his experience.

Everyone unplugged, and Tarn removed her helmet. “I’m sorry, Krys, but you’ll have to get better before he can accept you.”

“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 ships. 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.

>Jake set the example, Krys. I must leave you for a time. Let me go to him.<

Krys did not respond.

>Krys!< Maelia demanded, >I can’t do this by myself. You must be in contact with him.<

Krys reached out, and Washburn guided her hands to Tarn’s face. She felt around, then seemed to gather strength. Her hands went to his back, sliding through blood, and reached into the wound.

Jacobs reached gently for her hands to remove them, but she fought him.

“My Rider is going to him. I don’t know how long it will take. Send for help. Make certain the doctors know he has a Rider.”

Tears streamed from her eyes as she held her hands inside the horrible wound, but Maelia had given her hope, and she would not let that hope die.

The doors to the operations center opened, and Korban entered the room flanked by a squad of Imperial Marines. His eyes surveyed the carnage and settled on Krys.

Washburn intercepted him and pulled him aside. “Is medical help on the way?”

“It is. Who are you?”

“Terry Washburn, Queen’s Protector.”

Korban’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed. Is it over?”

“Lady Krys tells me it is.”

“Lady Krys? She was a Friend of the Family when I last saw her.”

“She’s a Knight now, sir. So is Tarn Lukes. I don’t know if he’s going to make it. Did you get the rest of the life boats?”

“I believe so. Most never reached the ground.”

“The gleasons are elusive, sir. If any slipped away, they’ll come after you. Don’t let your guard down.”

Korban walked to the body of a gleason and studied it. “Hideous creatures. I thought their planet was blockaded.”

“Not my problem, Admiral. We’re going to focus on our wounded now.”

“We’ll do what we can for them, I promise. And thank you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We have a fleet of Rebels inbound. It’ll take three weeks for them to get here.”

“Maybe they’ll turn back now.”

“I hope not. My replacement is probably with them, and I won’t let him take over as long as I’m alive. I expect Chandrajuski will be here soon with some fast ships.”

Four Terrans and one more Great Cat had been wounded, but all were capable of walking. The whole team went to the hospital, some for care and the others to protect. Borg came around long enough to order two Great Cats back to sector headquarters to guard Korban, then he was ushered into surgery.

Stven was brought to the emergency room on a flatbed truck. He walked in, but only on three legs, and his right wing dragged on the floor, again.

Washburn leapt to his feet when Stven entered the emergency room. “Captain! I forgot all about you. What happened?”

“The landing was a little hard, Terry. Nothing serious. The wing is broken again. I heard Tarn is in a bad way.”

Washburn nodded, still mortified. “Krys sent her Rider to him.”

“Hmm. How is she?”

“About like you’d expect.”

“If he doesn’t make it, her Rider won’t either. She’ll be devastated.”

Hours later, Tarn came out of surgery and was immediately ensconced in a tank. To everyone’s surprise, his prognosis was fair, particularly in view of the fact that he had a Rider. His recovery would be long, however. When Krys went to him, he was completely sealed within the tank. She settled into a bed next to him and was soon fast asleep.

A doctor came to her bedside with a portable scanner. “She’s next,” he said to Washburn.

“Uh, she’s not wounded.”

“She most certainly is. She’s blind. We were told it’s not a recent injury, so we’ve left her to last.”

“Have you dealt with injuries from the scree before?”

“Many. I’ve suffered through it myself. It was a long battle here.”

“Her Rider has things under control. I think it might be best to wait.”

“Her Rider is no longer with her, sir. Who knows what it left undone?”

“Hmm. I see what you mean. I’m told it will return to her eventually.”

“Let’s just make sure there is an eventually.” The doctor ran the scanner and frowned at the results. “I’m going to call a specialist. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I have a basis point now, and we’ll run more scans later to see if there’s any change.”

“No surgery, Doc.”

“The damage is deep within her brain. Surgery is not likely to help.”

When she awoke, Washburn was there. So, too, were a Great Cat and Sergeant Jacobs. “How is he?” she asked.

“It hasn’t been all that long, Krys,” Washburn said gently. “Will you eat something? Then the doctors want to put you in an analyzer to see if they can do something about your vision.”

“I’ll eat, but no analyzer. I don’t want my vision back just yet.”

“What?”

“Don’t you see? My visions have moved to a new level. I think it’s because of my blindness.”

“They’re concerned that you might get worse without Maelia fixing things up.”

“Well . . . they can check, but unless I’m getting worse, they’re not going to touch me.”

When the analysis was complete, the specialist briefed her. “We see no change, nor do we believe we could do much if we did. Your Rider might be able to effect repairs, but the longer she waits, the harder it will be. Neurological pathways are damaged, and the longer they remain damaged, the more they atrophy. You need her back as soon as Sir Tarn is done with her.”

* * * * *

O’Brien found Akurea hard at work in her quarters with the door open again. Two computers were on her desk now, and they had been for days. “Don’t you ever close the door?” he asked, poking his head in.

She looked up and smiled, then stretched. “I don’t like feeling confined. Come in.”

“How’s it going?”

“I’m transposing circuits from the Chessori computer to my own, but I’m stuck. I have a circuit here that I just can’t figure out. How’s it going for you?”

“For me, good. For the crew, not so good. They’re pretty banged up.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I’ve been heads-down.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uh, yesterday, I think.”

He frowned. “We keep forgetting about you. I’m sorry. Most of the crew just fought a battle at Korban’s headquarters, and it was bad. Tarn and Stven are in a hospital, and so are a few others.”

She sat back, stunned. “I knew there was some commotion going on, but I didn’t know what it was all about. Krys must be a wreck.” She glanced at the Empire screen in front of her, did a double-take, and jumped up from her chair. “Agh!”

“What’s the problem?”

She motioned him over, pointing a shaking hand at the screen. “I’ve been struggling with this circuit for hours. It’s suddenly there, and I didn’t put it there.”

O’Brien looked up at the ceiling with a grin. “George, are you helping out?”

“Maybe a little.”

O’Brien took her arm. “I’m taking you to dinner. Come on.”

“Uh, who’s buying?”

“I only go Dutch.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

She stared at him as they headed toward the central shaft. “It’s just a small ship. How is it that I don’t know what’s going on?”

“It’s not that small of a ship, Akurea,” he corrected her, “at least not where I come from. You tend to keep to yourself, and we threw the operation together pretty quickly.”

“An operation that required the participation of two Knights?”

“They’re special. They took out a bunch of gleasons this time.”

“Gleasons! We’re fighting gleasons now?”

“Looks like it.”

“Well, look, part of fixing ships is to test them out. I’m a pilot, and I can work the guns. I’ve heard a lot of shooting going on. Do you need any help?”

He rubbed his jaw. “With Stven out of the picture for a while, we might, but Krys gave you another assignment, and it’s important.”

“I need to be alive to complete it.”

“I’ll keep you in mind. I don’t know where we’re going next, and you might be able to fill in gaps in the bridge rotation.”

“You said this is not a small ship where you come from. Where, exactly, is that?”

“You’ll have to check with Captain Stven on that one.”

“He’s in a tank.”

“Oh . . . well, someone else then.”

Notes From the Author

If you liked the book, or even if you did not like the book, I am asking you to take a moment to write a review on Amazon.com. Writing reviews on Amazon is easy, just one or two sentences is adequate, and they are important to authors and readers alike.

Writing is a very personal business. I’m always trying to improve, and I welcome any feedback you would like to give. Check out my web site:

www.spiritofempire.com

On that website you will find a link to my books and a link to my private email. I enjoy hearing from my readers, whether the comments are positive or negative. I will do my very best to respond to every email.

The next book in the series, Voice of the Chosen, is planned for release around Christmas 2011. I will do my best, but I make no promises. Both the release date and the title are subject to change.

It’s been a lot of fun to write this series. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please, Please, Please, send in those reviews, and don’t hesitate to email me.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight