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

by Lawrence P White

  “We have, but only if we recognize their legitimacy. Seeton doesn’t, nor do I. It’s pretty obvious where you stand.”

  “I’ll quit before I go against everything I’ve ever stood for, and I’m not alone. We keep hoping someone will provide the leadership we need to pull us together. We’re basically powerless right now, and it’s getting worse.”

  “Would you like to leave? I’ve got room for you in my squadron.”

  “I’d love to, but the answer is no. Besides the fact that my family is here, I’m not ready to quit. I’ll hang in here until the bitter end. Can you give me any encouragement?”

  “Nothing specific, but you can tell people you trust that you are not forgotten. A lot of us have refused to capitulate. I believe the day will come when you will have the opportunity to turn the tables. I personally would not want to be your new admiral. I think his tenure will be short.”

  Agoda smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear. We’ll be ready to assist whoever it is that opposes these tyrants. Unless, of course, they’re tyrants themselves.”

  “They’re not. Like you, they stand by their oaths. What that means in the absence of Empire I don’t know, but they’re the good guys. I can’t say more.”

  Others from his squadron returned with similar stories. Things were bleak here on Bvest.

  M’Dama set sail for his next stop, Krandt, with a heavy heart. He realized now that Seeton had been sheltering his men from the new Rebel politicians, and his respect for the man rose to a new level. To the fleet in Aldebaran Sector, little had changed since the coup. He now had a much better idea of what Seeton was up against, and he wondered at the skills it took to deal with the new government without capitulating.

  He prepared a message drone to Seeton and launched it just before his second jump through hyperspace. Shortly after that jump, he was called to the bridge.

  Captain Stning greeted him with a frown, motioning him over to one of the boards. “Sir, I think we’re being followed.”

  “Followed! Through hyperspace? Not possible.”

  “My thoughts exactly, sir. But look at this,” Stning said pointing to the board. “This is immediately after our first jump. We were preparing to launch the drone when we discovered another ship on our long range scanner. I chalked it up to pure coincidence, but here it is again after our last jump.” The picture on the board changed to the current time. Indeed, a ship held station far behind them.

  “What ship is it?” M’Dama asked.

  “It’s too far away to say. Nor can I say if it’s the same ship we saw before, but it’s gone beyond coincidence at this point.”

  “Agreed. Have you hailed him?”

  “Yes. There’s no response.”

  “Hmm. Perhaps we should pay him a visit.”

  “I’d like that very much,” Captain Stning replied.

  “Very well. You’ll have orders from the Operations Center momentarily.” M’Dama pulled a communicator from his belt and issued orders to his staff. When he was done, he turned back to Stning, his upper hands preening his whiskers in thought. “Was the ship there before we launched the drone?”

  “No, sir. It showed up just as we jumped.”

  “Did you happen to notice if the drone made its first jump?”

  “No, sir. We didn’t wait around long enough.”

  “Hmm. I think we’ll prepare another drone. I’ll be in the Operations Center, Captain.”

  The squadron turned about and headed toward the nearby ship. It, too, turned about and away from them, keeping its distance from them constant. Even at full speed they were not able to close the distance.

  M’Dama’s whiskers were getting the full treatment by then. “Come about and resume course to Krandt,” he ordered. We’ll see if he follows. To an aide, he added, “Prepare another drone for Admiral Seeton. We’ll launch this one the moment we drop from hyper and see what happens. Set it to jump as soon as it can.”

  The jump went as planned. The drone launched just as the trailing ship appeared. It changed its course to intercept the drone, and the squadron changed its course to intercept, as well.

  The mystery ship had two choices now: it could break off its attack on the drone and continue shadowing the squadron, or it could go after the drone and risk the squadron catching up to it. The three ships gradually drew closer to each other, then the drone winked out of existence. It had jumped long before the mystery ship reached it.

  The moment the drone disappeared, the interloper headed away from the squadron at top speed. There was no chance of catching it. M’Dama called off the intercept and turned his ships back toward Krandt.

  Captain Stning called M’Dama to the bridge. “We got closer this time, sir. We still can’t identify the ship, but it’s a Chessori trader.”

  “Chessori! Are you certain?”

  “Absolutely certain, sir.”

  M’Dama altered course away from Krandt after two more jumps, but the Chessori trader remained on their tail. No one had a clue how the Chessori was tracking them through hyperspace, but there was no doubt now that it was, indeed, tracking them.

  * * * * *

  The meetings on Krandt went much differently than they had on Bvest. M’Dama, after meeting an old shipmate, was quickly escorted to the admiral’s office. Admiral Dgoffs, he discovered, was still very much aligned with the old Empire. Efforts were underway to undermine that loyalty, but those efforts had been rebuffed. He had refused to stand down when his replacement arrived. That replacement had been sent packing on the first commercial ship available, and the destination was far from Orion III. It would be months before he returned to Orion III with the news. What would happen then was anyone’s guess, but Dgoffs believed the Rebels would go after softer targets before setting their sights on him. The clock was ticking, but he would never submit to Rebel domination.

  “Do you have word of Admiral Korban?” M’Dama asked.

  “I do. I returned from a meeting with him just before this new admiral showed up.”

  “Can you tell me how things are going on Orion III?”

  “I cannot, unless you can provide some proof of whose side you’re on.”

  “So sides are being taken here, too?”

  Dgoffs nodded. “They are. Where do you stand?”

  M’Dama hesitated, then committed. “I stand against Struthers. I can tell you that something is being organized to fight the Rebels, but I am not free to divulge details.”

  “What is your interest in Korban?”

  M’Dama’s whiskers began getting another workout. “I can’t say. We, too, cannot afford to trust anyone.”

  Slamming his fist on his desk, the admiral growled, “A fine state of affairs. Our forces are reduced to individuals commanding loyalty only to themselves. We must find a way to resurrect the old structure.”

  “The old structure had its basis in politics, as will any future structure.” M’Dama replied.

  “Too true. But it won’t be these Rebels, not in my district, and not in a lot of others. Korban’s hand is yet strong, but it weakens by the day. I can say no more. I suggest you pay him a personal visit.”

  “I may do just that,” M’Dama replied. “I might be speaking out of turn, sir, but your actions and words give me hope. The future structure you seek is under formation. Its success depends entirely on others like you who hold firm.”

  Dgoff’s gaze narrowed. “Who’s in charge?”

  “I can’t say, sir. I can say, however, that you will be pleased.”

  “Humph. I hope you’re right. You can tell whoever it is that I can be counted on to hold true to the old Empire beliefs. That will tell him whether I’m in or out.”

  “You’ll be in, sir. Tell me, have you heard anything about a Chessori ability to track ships through hyperspace?”

  Dgoffs spoke the Chessori name as an expletive. “Chessori! They’re trying to weasel their way into everything. I’ve received orders from the governor to allow ‘observers’ aboa
rd my warships. I haven’t refused the order, not yet, but I haven’t found any Chessori that meet my qualifications either. And I won’t. What’s this about tracking through hyperspace? It’s completely new to me.”

  “Me, too, but we were followed from Bvest, matched jump for jump. And the Chessori did its best to take out our messenger drones.”

  Dgoffs leaned back in his chair, his eyes slits. He remained silent for a time. When he spoke, it was softly. “These Chessori are bad news, Commodore. I’m beginning to wonder if they’re in cahoots with the Rebels.”

  M’Dama’s whiskers began a new, refreshing preening. After a time, he said, “To what end? What benefit would they be to the Rebels? They’re just traders.”

  Dgoffs peered through slitted eyes as he replied, “So they say. What do we really know about them? You tell me they tracked you through hyper. What else can they do?”

  M’Dama had no reply.

  “I need to pay another visit to Korban,” Dgoffs said, “but I dare not leave right now. If you’re off to see him, please inform him of our conversation. I know he’s under the same pressure to allow Chessori among his crews.”

  “I really can’t say where I’m headed, sir,” M’Dama said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I can read between the lines.”

  “After turning out your replacement, I think you may need to be careful about visits to Orion III. I know of at least two other couriers that vanished on their way to Korban.”

  “Hmm. Give my regards to him when you see him. If you see him,” the admiral said as he rose from his chair.

  “I shall endeavor to do so, sir.”

  Another messenger drone was prepared during the voyage out-system with a synopsis of everything M’Dama had learned from Dgoffs and the other contacts his men had made. This time M’Dama decided to launch the drone before his first jump, and he followed it until it winked out of existence. Only then did he set course for Orion III.

  Shortly after the first jump, a full squadron of Empire ships appeared on his screens. He considered briefly, then ordered another drone launched.

  “What message do you want to send?” Captain Stning asked.

  “No message. Just launch the drone as quickly as you can, and make sure its trajectory is not too far from this approaching squadron. Give it plenty of time before it jumps. I want to see what happens.”

  The drone was launched, and a fighter from the approaching squadron dispatched it before it reached its jump point. M’Dama set off for his command center, setting his battle plans in motion on the way. When he arrived, he opened a communications link to the approaching squadron.

  “Identify yourself,” he demanded.

  The picture of a large human, one of the giant N’Ninwa, formed on the communicator. “Admiral Jsbaki here. Would you be so kind as to pull over for a chat?”

  “I don’t think so,” M’Dama replied. “Why did you take out my drone?”

  “Orders, you know. Let’s see . . . you’re a commodore, right? That means I outrank you. I’m ordering you to pay me a courtesy call. Just you.”

  “I don’t think so, sir,” M’Dama replied.

  “Then I shall, regretfully, have to ask you to turn your command over to me.”

  “A squadron commander cannot give such an order, sir.”

  “I’m giving you an order, Commodore. If you force my hand, I will have to demand your surrender.”

  “You’re an Empire squadron. How can you ask for the surrender of another Empire squadron?”

  “Well, it seems your political affiliations are in question. Come on over and we can chat about it.”

  M’Dama’s whiskers were not getting their usual workout. He was entirely calm, though deeply disappointed. “I think I’ll just leave,” he said.

  “You know that won’t work. You can’t hide from us.”

  “Are you prepared to fight?”

  “If I must,” Admiral Jsbaki replied.

  “I will not condone Empire ships fighting each other,” M’Dama announced in as disappointing a voice as he could construct. “I’ll come about while I consider your orders. Will you join me aboard my ship?”

  “No, but I think I’ll let our squadrons merge. That way you won’t get too frisky.”

  “Very well. I’ll get back to you later,” M’Dama replied as he broke the communications link. Then he began issuing orders. His squadron held its formation for the time being while he studied the opposing fleet’s trajectories. The two squadrons approached each other, his own support ships spreading out just enough to provide safe spacing for Jsbaki’s ships as they mingled with his own. It was a strange feeling – he had never seen two squadrons merge before. Squadrons always maintained their own integrity. Jsbaki could not have made his intentions more clear. M’Dama wondered how prepared Jsbaki and his men were to engage him. Was this posturing, or were they planning to open fire before he did?

  As he had anticipated, Jsbaki held his cruiser in reserve. Each ship in M’Dama’s squadron was assigned a target. M’Dama briefly considered the legal implications of his ships firing the first shot without warning, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Jsbaki’s demand for surrender was, in essence, all the declaration of war he needed.

  The squadrons merged, and he gave the order. Guns on the ships of his squadron opened up on their targets. His frigate took out three enemy fighters in seconds, then joined him to focus on Jsbaki’s frigate. M’Dama opened up with twelve batteries, and his frigate brought all its guns into action. Jsbaki’s frigate never had a chance and went dead in space within just a few minutes. The fact that it didn’t simply explode spoke volumes about the hardness of these large capital ships.

  The enemy fighters responded more quickly than the capital ships, but only five remained after the opening salvo. M’Dama paired up his fighters against Jsbaki’s fighters with two-to-one odds, and he and his frigate turned to engage Jsbaki’s cruiser which was just entering the fray.

  To the best of M’Dama’s knowledge, two cruisers had never before been locked in mortal combat. He had the upper hand as a result of his earlier preparations, but killing a cruiser was a difficult and lengthy process. His gunners had predetermined targets, and they were effective, but plans rarely held together after the first shot was fired. Both cruisers moved sprightly despite their bulk, and targets did not remain in the crosshairs for long.

  His own cruiser took a direct hit on a main battery. The whole ship shook with the resultant explosion. Worse, the shields failed in that area. Captain Stning adroitly maneuvered the massive ship to protect the area from Jsbaki’s guns. Between M’Dama’s cruiser and his frigate, Jsbaki lost five of his twelve batteries in a short period, and he was forced to defend himself against two capital ships at the same time with his remaining seven batteries. When M’Dama ordered his cruiser and frigate to concentrate on just one side of the ship, the weakened side, Jsbaki had only two batteries with which he could return fire. He rolled his ship, of course, to bring the other batteries into action, but by then he’d lost one more battery.

  M’Dama lost another main battery, and one weapons control center was lost in the ensuing blast which again shook the whole ship. Other control centers picked up the load. So far, he had not lost a single ship, though each of them had suffered significant damage. Jsbaki’s fighters were giving as good as they received, but against two-to-one odds, they had little chance. It wasn’t long before they were gone, and M’Dama ordered his fighters to support his frigate which had suffered badly but was still operational. He had never seen fighting so intense. In less than an hour Jsbaki’s cruiser began having difficulty maneuvering, then it stopped maneuvering at all. It went dead in space.

  M’Dama’s staff let out a cheer. They had done it!

  Jsbaki appeared on the communicator. The nonchalant attitude was no longer in evidence.

  “Are you prepared to surrender?” M’Dama demanded.

  “No. I just wanted to say that you put up a valiant effort
. Congratulations on a job well done. I’ll say farewell now.”

  His visage disappeared from the screen. Moments later everyone in both fleets suffered the horror of the Chessori mind weapon, the first time for all of them. M’Dama’s body fell to the floor, spasming out of control. All coherent thought ceased. The agony lasted for hours as Jsbaki’s Chessori counterparts on the cruiser pounded away at him. The end, when it finally came, was a blessing.

  Chapter Fifty-three: Parson’s World

  Beta IV, with the Queen aboard, dropped from hyperspace and her bridge screens filled quickly with information. One planet, indeed the only planet circling the bright yellow sun ahead, held center stage. The system bustled with civilian ship activity. As yet, the bridge crew detected no hostile response.

  The planet hung in space like a jewel, perfectly suited for colonization except for one thing: it was so far off the space lanes that no one wanted to come here. Located on the very fringes of the galaxy, its night skies were hideously dark, devoid of stars except for a dim, narrow band in the direction of the galactic core. In every other respect, the planet bordered on ideal. A molten planetary core and three moons ensured an abundance of seismic activity. Very tall mountain ranges and small tides were the result. Heavy metals and minerals lay within easy reach. The planet had virtually no axial tilt, consequently temperatures varied little at any given location. A large portion of the planet basked in pleasant, temperate conditions, making Parsons’ World a farmer’s dream come true. With abundant sources of energy and good planning to prevent the planet from becoming mired in industrial wastes and pollution, Parsons’ World provided a perfect environment in almost all ways, lacking only one thing: neighbors.

  Parsons’ World: comfortable, desirable, naturally wealthy in resources, lacking nothing except neighbors. Parsons’ World: a den of thieves, making it a world no one else wanted, a world that didn’t want anyone else, yet a world strangely key to the Queen’s plans for restoring the throne.

  Its location was perfect for its original settlers, a right-wing religious group that had balked at paying Empire duties and taxes. Parsons’ World’s self-righteous ideals had, over the millennia, metamorphosed. Its religion became its economics. The Parsons’ World economic model, proudly based on beating the Empire at its own game, called for elusive, cunning, and fine-honed management of shady activities, activities defined by everyone else in the Empire as criminal.