Last of the Chosen (Spirit of Empire, Book One)

by Lawrence P White

  “How hard did Jornell try?”

  “I don’t know. I was not in the net. I, too, like the idea. It’s against all the rules, and because of that no one will expect it. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to execute.”

  Ellie looked back and forth between the two of them, frightened. “Unless we can come up with another plan, I would support the effort in spite of the danger.”

  Mike returned to the net with purpose. When the idea was presented to George, he turned Mike down flat, would not even discuss it. He simply could not permit a jump with that level of risk. Mike cajoled, implored, threatened, and even tried reason, explaining that they were in more danger if they didn’t jump. Nothing got through to George. He simply said, “No.”

  Jake tried subterfuge. “George, let’s just set this up as a training exercise. Let’s try to state all the variables and see what your computers come up with for a solution.” George agreed on those grounds and tried, but the navigation computers simply couldn’t handle the set-up.

  Time was not on their side. George kept a visual presentation of the tractor beam field in view at all times. Resolve moved closer to the beam with each passing second, relentlessly. Mike resisted the urge to get angry, knowing that arguing with computers was always a losing proposition. That didn’t mean he couldn’t become frustrated. He did, and that frustration became more and more evident to all on the net, including George. George had always seemed to be so much more than just a computer program. In most ways he acted as a mature adult, in some he was little more than a child, but he had in every case responded to their smallest needs with unerring faithfulness.

  And he had become their friend.

  Mike knew all that, but he needed George right now as a tool more than he needed him as a friend. He had to find a way around George’s programming or they would die.

  He took a few calming breaths to force his frustration away, and he tried to think like a computer. Jake beat him to it, realizing that George was doing exactly what had been asked of him. That meant he was attempting to compute a jump that would put them on course to Gamma VI. With another anxious look at the tractor beam, Jake tried a new tack. “Okay, George, new problem. Just for the fun of it, let’s set up a jump, but this time we’ll change the ground rules. Instead of trying to compute a jump for Gamma VI, let’s not care where we end up. The solar system is a flat disc. Let’s just make a jump at ninety degrees to the plane of the ecliptic. That will take us away from all the strong gravity wells that are trying to suck us in, and there’s not much to hit way out there. Can you do that? It should be nice and safe.”

  “No, Jake. It is not permitted. The gravity wells still act strongly on the ship.”

  “George,” Jake said. “Listen carefully to me. I’m not asking you to do it, I’m just asking you to set it up as a training exercise. Show me how you’d do it, and that’s an order.”

  On those terms, George had no trouble complying with the request. Mike, marginally proficient at coordinating the jump computers by himself, was left in the dust from the outset. Jake didn’t even get that far. This was a really complex problem requiring intimate understanding of jump mathematics and physics.

  George was proud of his solution, and his solution supported the reasoning behind his refusal to jump, at least in the eyes of a computer. A pattern appeared before Mike and Jake showing George’s best guess as to where the ship would end up if it attempted an immediate jump. Most predicted tracks put them in deep space and clear of all danger, but George’s programming forced him to look at the smaller percentage of tracks that pulled Resolve back into the sun or one of the planets. His programming would only accept zero tolerance.

  But Mike focused instantly on the vast majority of tracks that successfully escaped the solar system. His eyes lit up with excitement. The plan had a much better chance of success than he’d hoped. That was one of the differences between a computer and a person. A person could take chances. George could not.

  “Can you aim us over this way a little more?” Mike asked, pointing away from the tracks going into the sun.

  “Already considered, Mike,” George answered. “This is my best effort.”

  The cruiser and its accompanying squadron had almost completed the maneuvers aimed at bringing it alongside. Scant minutes remained before the tractor beam came in range. They were out of time. It was now or never.

  “George, do you understand what’s happening?” Mike queried anxiously.

  In response, George brought a display of the entire tactical situation back to the net. The range of the tractor beam was clearly noted, as were the predicted courses of all twenty-three ships. “Yes, Mike.”

  “Do you understand that if we continue ahead, we will die?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you understand that if we turn, if we try to go anywhere else, we will die?”

  “Yes, Mike,” in a quieter voice.

  Mike hated what he was doing to George. “We have to jump. If we don’t, we’ll die.”

  “I know. I am not permitted to take such a risk,” George stated in a whisper.

  Mike sought help from Ellie and Jake, the only others fully integrated into the net, but they had no more success with George. The color of the tractor beam on George’s sensors changed to yellow, indicating that it was now fully charged. “George, prepare to jump into hyperspace. Set up your last solution.”

  “Done,” came the answer without hesitation.

  “Execute the jump,” Mike commanded.

  “I cannot.”

  “We’ll die if you don’t, George. You will have killed us if you do not execute. Does your programming permit you to kill us?”

  Jake spoke angrily to him. “Mike, you’re giving George a dilemma unsolvable by a computer. Watch out!”

  “I know!” he responded just as angrily. “Does anyone have a better suggestion?” Silence spanned the net. “George, you’re more than just a computer. You and I both know it. Now, prove it. I absolve you from any restrictions placed on you by your programming. The Heir’s life is at stake here. Execute the jump.”

  George was silent for a time, an eternity for a computer of his caliber. Mike was beginning to fear the worst, that he had caused a blowout, when George spoke solemnly to him. “It is done, Mike. I have set up the jump as directed. I cannot execute the command. However, I may be able to prevent myself from overriding a manual command from you, should you decide to execute the jump on your own.”

  “Thanks, George. Are you all right?”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Can you set up a couple more short jumps and have them ready just in case we end up somewhere we don’t want to be?”

  If George could sigh, that’s what he did. “It is done, Mike. Each push of the Execute button will result in a random jump of the smallest possible distance. I can do no more. I ask you again to find another way. Do not do this thing.”

  Mike sighed. George had delivered, and their time was up. It was now or never. He ripped the helmet from his head to exit the net, studied the board in front of him to ensure everything was correct, then hit the Execute button.

  Resolve jumped.

  Chapter Ten: Lost In Space

  The screens on the bridge went dark. Reba removed her helmet, followed soon after by Ellie who looked blankly around the bridge as if seeing it for the first time. Sensing a problem, Mike put his helmet back on to join the net, but there was no net, not at first. He and Jake waded through channels to reach the hardware of the net to check out systems, but the going was slow, like swimming instead of flying. Everything worked, but life had gone from the net. George was nowhere to be found.

  Long minutes passed. The jump ended automatically, and Resolve dropped from hyper into normal space. Nothing of any significance showed on their sensors, but Mike could not reach George for confirmation. He and Jake took over the housekeeping chores, struggling to direct computers to complete various assignments, things George always did, looking a
ll the while for George. Resolve took a while to locate itself, another eternity in computer time, then Mike went to work with the navigation computers to compute another jump, just a short jump but in the direction of Gamma VI this time. A process easily and quickly executed by George, it now required Mike’s guidance every step of the way.

  Jake, prowling the net for George while Mike worked, discovered a lone Chessori fighter at extreme sensor range. He had no idea how long it had been there. He and Mike studied it for a while, but the Chessori did not threaten, it simply trailed them.

  More hours passed before Mike finished the jump computations. He hit the Execute button and slumped, exhausted. It had been a long day to say the least, begun on Earth and now somewhere deep in space. He knew the experiences of today had been real. They had called upon the U.S. military for help, splashed four Chessori ships, escaped an Empire cruiser, and completed two jumps, the last one manually. It was all real, but it didn’t seem real. Too much had been compacted into too short of a time. He needed to untangle the frayed ends of who and what Mike Carver had become, but he couldn’t take the time; he wasn’t done with today yet.

  The second jump ended, and he began the laborious task of finding out where they’d ended up after the jump. Surprisingly, they were where they were supposed to be. Jake, meanwhile, checked the long-range scanners. The Chessori ship appeared about ten minutes after they dropped from hyperspace.

  He felt hands gently massage his shoulders from behind, demanding his attention. He unplugged and removed the helmet to discover Ellie staring at him with a frightened look in her eyes. Reba stood beside Otis, also subdued. She held Alexis in one arm while the other hand brushed through Otis’ fur.

  What was going on? They all looked like they were at a wake. Then it hit him. He stiffened, his eyes losing focus. What price had George paid to fudge his programming? He looked around the bridge at all the dead control stations, the dead screens, the dead weapons boards, then at Otis, Reba, Ellie, and finally Alexis, the focus of all their efforts. Had he failed her? A chill ran through his body.

  >Jake,< he thought, >what have I done?<

  >I’m sorry, Mike. I think you surmise correctly. George could not circumvent his programming. He’s dead.<

  >I killed him?<

  >I can’t find him anywhere. I suspect the only way he could allow the jump was to die.<

  George’s sacrifice and the realization that they were in deep space, already billions or trillions of miles from anywhere without guidance, stunned Mike. >What have I done? I killed George. Have I killed all of us?<

  >I don’t think so, Mike. He left us with a fully functioning ship. We do not seem hindered in any way, except that the program called George is no longer available to execute our commands or to give advice. The ship will need constant attention from us. We’ll have to do his job as well as our own.<

  Mike trudged to the central shaft and stepped in, his shoulders bent and his mind numb. The rest of them stared at each other, then, with unspoken agreement Ellie went after him. She followed him to the lounge and sat by his side as he grieved.

  On the bridge, Reba moved from station to station, willing screens to come alive but afraid to touch anything. The only station she knew, the only area they’d had time to train her to understand, was the gun turret. Otis went to the main screen and studied its blankness worriedly. Though he could fly the ship in a pinch, he could not do it without George’s help. He did not have the knowledge to alter any of Mike’s settings manually.

  He went to Mike’s control station and lifted the helmet that connected Mike to George, motioning with it to Reba. She placed the helmet about her head without hesitation, projected her thoughts into it just as she did at the gun station, then waited. She waited a long time, but nothing happened. Shaking her head, she removed the helmet and handed it back to Otis. Without George to reconfigure, the helmet would work only for Mike.

  Otis stared at her, his imperturbable cat’s eyes giving away not a hint of his thoughts, though she understood fully. With another troubled look at the screens, he padded off to the lounge with Reba and Alexis in tow. They entered to find Ellie sitting by herself, seeming destitute.

  “He’s in his room,” she told them woodenly.

  Otis left the lounge with the others following. They found Mike sitting on a couch in his suite staring off into nowhere. Ellie sat beside him and placed an arm across his shoulders, but he didn’t respond. Otis was more direct. He reached out and shook Mike by the shoulder.

  “Mike,” he stated in his guttural voice, “you have work to do. Grieving will have to wait. We need you on the bridge.”

  Reba added her concerns. “It’s time to get back to work, Skipper. I tried, but I can’t communicate with Resolve. You’re our only hope.”

  “Me and Jake, you mean,” he replied sadly. “At least I haven’t killed him.”

  “No, and you’re not going to, either. I have a claim on his first progeny.”

  “That’s between you and him.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned into Ellie. She pushed a stray hair from his forehead and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “There’s another ship out there, a Chessori fighter,” he stated quietly. Ellie stiffened. Reba froze. Otis whirled to face him. Mike waited, pointing a blaster at Otis’ midsection. Otis froze, his eyes locked on the weapon.

  “Good, very good, Mike,” he breathed.

  “How did the Chessori find us?” Mike demanded. “Do the math. Who else could have told them?”

  Otis turned carefully away from Mike, knowing better than to threaten. “A good question,” he spoke thoughtfully as he sat, his tail once again curled about his feet. He turned his head to look at Mike. “You can put the weapon away. If I wanted the Heir dead, she would be dead. There has been no lack of opportunity. The same applies to capturing or kidnapping her. It would be done. I’m on your side, Mike.” The weapon did not waver. Otis shrugged. “What is the Chessori doing?”

  “Just sitting there, not moving.”

  “But we are moving. Are you saying it’s holding its position relative to us, that it’s moving in exactly the same direction and at exactly the same speed that we are?”

  “You know what I mean. It’s followed us through two jumps. I ask again, how did it find us?”

  Otis looked deeply troubled. “Someone has placed a tracker aboard our ship. I know of no other explanation.”

  “Something else new,” Mike groaned. “What’s a tracker?”

  “I have only heard rumors, Mike. If rumor is accurate, a tracker is tied into a ship’s beacon. Whenever Resolve determines new coordinates for a jump, the tracker secretly broadcasts those coordinates before the jump is executed. This ship was tracked from Dorwall to Earth, so it’s something we’ve seen before.”

  Mike was appalled. What would these people throw at him next? They didn’t miss a trick. As soon as he got one step ahead of them, they pulled another surprise out of the hat that set him back two steps. He scratched his head. “Then we can expect more of them to show up?”

  “Maybe. Let’s think about this. We left Earth’s vicinity in a decidedly unusual and dangerous manner. I don’t think a squadron commander would risk losing his whole squadron by following us blindly. It would be more logical to send one or two ships. If one or both failed to complete the jump, their loss would not seriously weaken the squadron, and if even one of them found us, it could follow us and relay our position back to the others. Meantime, the squadron can head out-system for the usual three weeks until reaching a safe jump position, secure in the knowledge that its mission still proceeds. It can join up with us at its leisure.”

  Otis continued, musing aloud. “But how is this Chessori communicating our position to the rest of the squadron? That’s a cumbersome chore, assuming we make more jumps in the near future.” He looked at Mike. “I can’t speak for the Chessori, but in our fleets, message drones are typically in limited supply. Maybe we can make enough jumps to use up all its
drones.” He thought about what he had said, his cat’s eyes betraying nothing of his inner turmoil. Those eyes narrowed as everyone waited, and he turned his head to lock gazes with Ellie as he spoke to Mike.

  “There is another possibility. There are rumors of a Chessori hyperspace communicator. Mike, we do not have such a thing. If the Chessori do, the Empire is at a tremendous disadvantage. The only way we communicate across light years is by ships, be they regular commercial liners, military vessels, or special messenger drones. It’s a slow process.” Without moving his gaze, he asked, “What do you know of this, My Lady?”

  “You enter the realm of Imperial Secrets, Otis.”

  Otis shifted his stare to her with that impertinent look cats grant their masters, a look of endless patience.

  “Very well,” she sighed. “The mechanism may exist. I, too, have heard rumors.”

  Mike safetied the blaster and placed it on the floor before the couch. Otis calmly padded over and picked it up, placing it within a belt pouch with a disapproving look. “You have seen the power of this weapon. It is not a toy. Do not leave it where someone might step on it by accident.”

  “So what do we do now?” Mike asked.

  “The only thing we can do. We outsmart these Chessori, something we have not particularly excelled at so far. Let us assume the following,” Otis announced to the room, sitting back down to lecture. “One, the Chessori ship will probably not attack. We have proven our mettle against much better odds. Two, we have at least two weeks, probably three, before the squadron reaches a position where it can safely jump, then complete the additional jumps necessary to reach us. Three, the ship behind us will follow our jumps, assuming we have a tracker aboard. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage. Our destination is Gamma VI. Can we mislead it into thinking we’re headed somewhere else? That’s up to you, Mike. How good are you with our computers? And can anyone else help?”