Knights of the Chosen soe-2

by Lawrence P White

  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 Ori
on 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 should
ers.

  “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.”