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

by Lawrence P White

  Borg provided personal weapons training, training that Otis demanded of everyone in Daughter’s retinue. Val and Krys were so far behind in this area that most of their weapons training was in the form of personal tutoring. Val’s missing leg made for some interesting moments, but Borg taught Val to use his crutch as a weapon. A difficult process with only one leg, balance was always an issue, but Val persevered and became quite handy with the crutch as a weapon.

  Krys had no interest in firing blasters, but she persevered, actually scoring reasonably well when she forced herself not to flinch, which wasn’t very often. As for the personal defense training, she found it impossible to strike hard enough to actually hurt someone, hence she often found herself on the receiving end of bruises.

  Val took to the training with gusto, knowing it was another step along the way to officer training. His aim with a blaster quickly reached an acceptable level, and Borg transitioned him between a number of different weapons and training scenarios that left Val breathless but beaming.

  Daughter participated in the training, though not frequently. She didn’t need training, only proficiency. She had spent a lifetime honing her skills, and neither Val or Krys was willing to take her on.

  He and Krys toured the squadron, as much for the squadron’s benefit as their own. Crewmembers wanted to meet the one who had saved all their jobs, and the two were well received. Krys had a lot less interest in the ships than did Val, but she genuinely enjoyed meeting so many new people.

  Captain Jzazbe gave considerable thought to the training Val received in the net. There was little doubt in his mind that Val would one day become a fleet officer, and the Academy would teach him everything he needed to know, but Academy training focused on ship handling, navigation, weapons, and leadership, not the intimate details of shipboard systems. Those details were left to specialist crewmembers who were supervised by officers. Jzazbe considered it a weakness in the Academy curriculum. Most young officers struggled mightily during their early years as they learned the intimate details of shipboard systems, and some never did learn.

  Val would learn how ships worked, and he would learn from the bottom up rather than from the top down. His time on Resolve would focus on the ship, not command of the ship.

  Jzazbe worked out a detailed program with the ship’s AI. He gave Val a few days of fun flying the ship, but then Val was put to work. Every system on the ship was studied in depth during the ensuing months, and Val spent many hours with the ship’s chief engineer inspecting and repairing things.

  He dutifully learned systems, processes, and procedures, but what most intrigued him was the ship’s AI. Val spent every available minute working with the AI to learn how it did its job, and it wasn’t long before he figured out how to find his way around the net without the assistance of the AI. It was a slow process, a challenging and difficult job that few ever bothered to learn. After all, ship’s AI’s never failed, but Val reveled in the challenge.

  Chapter Forty-eight: A Beggar Again

  Months passed. Krys and Val stayed with the ship through three stops, spending port time investigating worlds new to them. They were always accompanied by a crewmember, and whenever possible, Otis detailed one of the Great Cats to shadow them without their knowledge.

  Basaggit was their fourth new world. Though they had some knowledge of Daughter’s purpose on Basaggit, they were in no way involved in her efforts. A full week passed during which Krys and Val became quite familiar with the port and its immediate surroundings.

  This was their last day in port. Daughter would announce her findings later in the day, then Resolve would depart. Krys, Val, and Ensign Vorgaskia headed out on foot, planning to enjoy lunch at a local establishment. They made their way through the crowded port terminal to the sidewalk out front and stood in a short queue for a skimmer. While they waited, Krys felt uneasy for some reason, and her eyes roved the crowd. Far down the sidewalk to her right, her gaze settled on several wooden boxes stacked by the curb outside the baggage claim area. She blinked, then stiffened for a moment as her eyes glazed over. When she came back to herself, she blinked again, then reached for Val’s arm.

  “Those boxes are all parts of a gun, a very long gun,” she whispered into his ear.

  His eyes searched and settled on the boxes. “What? How can you know what’s inside them?”

  “I don’t know. I was looking at them, then I saw the gun all assembled on a roof somewhere.”

  “Uh . . . you mean you had a vision?” he asked guardedly.

  She looked into his eyes. “I guess I’d have to call it that. There’s no question in my mind, Val. It’s a gun, and I think it has something to do with our purpose here.”

  Val stared at her, then at the boxes, then his eyes took in the other bystanders while he considered. Three Drambda, each with four strong arms and hands, loitered near the boxes. Clearly, they were porters. Beyond them, near the far corner of the building, he spotted a Corvold leaning against the wall. Its leathery-skinned head was stationary, but its eyes moved constantly, studying everyone on the sidewalk. Val knew that not all Corvolds were bad, three of them had died trying to warn Sir Jarl of the intended assassination on Hespra III, but he also knew it was the Corvolds who had carried out the attempt against Daughter.

  He took Krys’ arm and turned her away. He focused on Ensign Vorgaskia. “Sir, it might turn out to be nothing, but Krys just learned of a potential threat to Daughter.”

  Vorgaskia’s expression suddenly hardened. “What are you talking about? We just got here.”

  “Don’t turn around, sir. We’re under observation by a Corvold. There are some boxes down the way that are parts of a gun. Krys said it will be a very long gun once it is assembled. It might be intended for a sniper.”

  Vorgaskia focused on Krys. “What makes you so sure?”

  “You’ll have to trust me, Ensign. How I know is classified as an Imperial Secret, but I speak true.”

  “We’re going back to the ship,” Vorgaskia announced grimly.

  Just then a freight hauler settled into position beside the boxes. “No, we’re not,” Val said, brooking no argument. “You are, Krys. Let Captain Jzazbe know what’s going on, and make sure he notifies Otis.” To Vorgaskia, he said, “You’re going to follow the guns. Take our skimmer, but don’t follow too close. You don’t want them knowing you’re following. Got it?”

  “I’m not leaving you. You know my orders, Cadet.”

  “Sir, your orders place Daughter first, always. The Corvolds tried to kill her once, and maybe they’re trying again. Can you take that chance? Now get going. It’s better if you leave before they do. My suggestion is that you go up high and keep an eye on them from above rather than trying to follow them. Hurry, sir.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to see where the Corvold goes. I think he’s part of this. If I’m wrong, you’ll know where the gun ends up, and you can notify the ship. Trust me, sir. I’ll be careful.”

  Vorgaskia’s lips compressed. He stared at Val, then nodded and boarded the skimmer. It whooshed into the sky, and Val paid it no more heed.

  “Get going, Krys. I’m counting on you to convince Jzazbe.”

  She squeezed his arm, then turned and disappeared inside the terminal building.

  Val turned away from the shipment of boxes and the Corvold, suspecting that if the Corvold really was a lookout, he would stay in the area for a few extra minutes before following the boxes. A hundred meters down the road leading from the port, a beggar squatted on a blanket. Val approached him, coins exchanged hands, then the beggar handed his coat to Val and sauntered off. Val drew the filthy cloak about himself and pulled the hood over his head, removed his boot, and rolled his pant leg up as high as it would go. He then settled down on the blanket with his cup in his hand.

  >I need a little help here, Artmis.<

  >We need a little help here. I’ll do what I can, but you’re far too clean to pass as a beggar.<

/>   Val rubbed dirt into his hands and leg. When he started on his face, he cried out. >Ouch! What have you done to me?<

  >You’re soon going to have nasty sores on both cheeks and your chin. Anyone looking at you will not see your face, they’ll just focus on the sores. I promise you, no one is going to want to be close to you once they see them.<

  A few minutes later, the Corvold passed Val at a brisk pace, paying him no heed. Val gave him some distance, then picked up his blanket and crutched off between two buildings. As soon as he was out of sight of the Corvold, he raced ahead a few buildings, then waited. Soon enough, the Corvold passed by, clearly headed into town. A short time later, the Corvold entered crowded streets, and Val was able to follow him directly. No one, including the Corvold, thought about beggars with anything other than disdain and indifference.

  The Corvold entered a seedy restaurant, and Val suddenly had a dilemma. What if the Corvold left by a back entrance? He hurriedly crutched by the establishment and rounded the next corner, then crutched past the alleyway and huddled on his blanket inside a recessed doorway. He had a view of the alley in both directions and a view of the main street in one direction. If the Corvold came back out the front and retraced his steps, Val would lose him.

  He didn’t have long to wait. The Corvold came out the back door, looked in both directions, then walked away from Val. He turned left at the first corner. Val moved down the side street, still one block away from the Corvold, and lay down against the building on his blanket. He, too, was an expert at checking for tails. He suspected the Corvold would double back through the alley to see if anyone was tailing him.

  He was right. The Corvold returned to the alley and crossed one street away from Val. Val picked up his blanket and moved to the corner just in time to see the Corvold turn back toward the main street two blocks ahead of him. Val went back into his stealth mode on the main street and had no trouble keeping the Corvold in sight.

  This process repeated itself twice more, then the Corvold turned down another main street, eventually entering a block of old buildings that, according to a sign, were soon to be razed, to be replaced by new buildings. He turned into a doorway guarded by another Corvold and entered a tall building that had once been an apartment complex.

  Val checked out the back of the building, but all the doors were locked. He desperately wanted to get inside, but it was broad daylight and the only entrance was guarded. He and Artmis considered for a time, then settled on a plan. Acting as if every step was a struggle, Val crutched up to the guard.

  “Hold it, you. What do you think you’re doing?” the guard demanded.

  “This is my home, sir.” Val mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

  “None of your business. Get out of here.”

  “But I live here. I have a permit from the owner.”

  “No one lives here. Show me the permit.”

  “I don’t carry it, sir. It’s a private agreement between the owner and myself. I pay him weekly for the space.”

  “Where is this space?”

  “Near the back of the building on this floor. Follow me and I’ll show you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll have to wait until later. Go away.”

  “Sir, I won’t bother you.”

  “Come back in an hour and you can go in.” The Corvold looked hard at Val’s face hidden within the hood, then stepped away quickly. “You’re disgusting. Go away.”

  “An hour? I’ll just wait over here then, sir.” Val moved down the street some ten meters and set his blanket on the sidewalk, then settled himself shakily, but he was thinking hard. He had a timeline. Whatever was taking place here would be over in an hour. Actually, it would probably be over a lot sooner. Val had no idea how long it took to assemble a weapon, but it probably wasn’t very long.

  Just then, Ensign Vorgaskia rounded the corner, followed closely by another Corvold who held a blaster on him.

  “Found this guy snooping around. Look at his uniform. I think he’s a cop.”

  Vorgaskia had removed his ensign pins, and there was no other identification on him, so Val didn’t think they could trace him back to Daughter. If they did, he didn’t know what would happen.

  “Who are you?” the first Corvold asked.

  “I am a cop, an undercover military cop. I’ve traced a stolen shipment to somewhere around here. Have you seen any wooden crates going into any of these buildings?” He turned to the second Corvold. “Put your weapon away. You know the penalty for threatening the police.”

  The Corvolds stared at each other for a time, then the guard made a decision. “Take him inside. You know what to do.”

  “Hey, wait!” Vorgaskia demanded. “Surely you’re not going to kidnap a policeman.”

  The blaster moved toward the door, indicating just exactly that. The moment it moved, Vorgaskia lunged, taking the blaster in both hands and turning it aside. He swept a foot out, dropping the guard, but he could not pull the weapon from the guards fierce grip. The first Corvold pulled out a miniblaster, and Val knew he had to act. Without rising, he flicked the field adjustment on his stunner and aimed it at all three men. When he pushed the button, all three fell to the ground unconscious.

  He rose and quickly moved to them, taking both blasters and settling them in the voluminous pockets of his cloak. He readjusted his stunner to a narrow beam and stunned both Corvolds again, just for good measure, then dragged Vorgaskia back around the nearest corner. At least he was out of sight of anyone coming or going through the door. He crutched back to his blanket and returned with it to Vorgaskia, covering him up to make him look like a sleeping beggar. It was the best he could do on short notice, and he no longer needed the blanket for his own disguise.

  He entered the building cautiously, not having any idea what to expect. There were no more guards nearby, though he suspected there would be some on the roof. That’s where Krys said the weapon would be placed.

  The air in the building was stale and stiflingly hot. Val wanted to remove his cloak, but he wasn’t ready to give it up – he might have further need of it, and both hands were occupied. One held the stunner and the other held his crutch.

  A stairway beckoned to him as soon as he entered, but Val decided that was too obvious. He moved to the far left side of the building and took the stairway there. It was a long climb, a very long climb. He reached the top with the muscles in his leg quaking and had to sit for a time massaging them.

  He opened the door to the roof just a crack and waited for his eyes to adjust to the bright light, then inched out onto the roof, his eyes darting everywhere. A maze of machinery and equipment restricted his view, but the machines offered concealment as well. He moved carefully between and around them, looking always for movement.

  He found it. One guard stood near the doorway at the top of the central stairs. Val edged back and away, always keeping a machine between himself and the guard. He worked his way to the far edge of the roof and peered around a massive machine, checking both directions. It was clear to his left, but he had to think about what he was seeing to the right. A large tarp was in place, and he couldn’t see what was beneath it, but sticking out just slightly toward the edge of the roof was the muzzle of a serious looking gun. Val followed the track of the muzzle, and about a mile away was the governor’s palace. That’s where Daughter would deliver her findings.

  He stepped back in consternation. Not again! He didn’t want to go through this again. But what else could he do? There was no one to stop these guys but him.

  He had a little time. He wasn’t going to go rushing off to certain death this time. He settled down to think. He had two blasters and a stunner. He didn’t want to use a blaster if he could help it. He couldn’t be certain what was going down here, and what if he chose wrong? What if these guys were part of the local police force providing security for Daughter? The evidence indicated otherwise, but there was a small chance he was wrong. He pulled out his stunner and looked at it.
He was too far away for a wide-field shot. He adjusted it to a narrow beam, then poked his head around the structure for another look.

  Suddenly, a hard, gnarled hand grasped his face from behind and pulled him back. He cried out, but the hand muffled his cry. He raised the stunner to fire blindly behind himself, but an arm reached out and held his fist tightly. He stared at the arm. It was covered in light brown fur. He relaxed, and as soon as he did, the hand over his mouth relaxed and he could turn. It was Borg, the Great Cat.

  Borg’s lips lifted in a leer of greeting, and his horrible breath washed over Val, but Val didn’t care. In fact, he welcomed the smell.

  Borg’s lips closed. He placed a hand on Val’s head and pressed down lightly, indicating that Val was to remain in place and out of sight. Then the Great Cat was gone without a sound.

  Val started shaking, so relieved was he. Borg was an expert, and these Corvolds didn’t stand a chance. More important, Borg had every legal right to act as he saw fit to protect Daughter, so Val was not going to have to shoot anyone and maybe face jail as a result.

  He kept the stunner in one hand and the full size blaster in the other, just in case, and waited. Before long, he heard shooting far off in the distance. It wasn’t Borg, it was too far away. He believed it was coming from the vicinity of the governor’s palace, but who would be foolish enough to attack there? If security there was anything like what he’d seen on Hespra III, hundreds of police and Imperial Marines guarded the place.