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
