“Easy to leave, hard to remain. The man of dirt comes to one in shadow. She will die, but death is not forever.”
“She died at the hands of a gleason, but the man of dirt sent his Rider to her. It kept her alive and healed her. I believe she has since returned the Rider to him.”
Stven worked hard to hold back a puff. M’Sada had just returned to the lounge. “Yes?” Otis asked Stven.
Stven was afraid to breath, but M’Sada, too, was intrigued. He asked the question for Stven. “A gleason?”
“You know of them?”
“Only that they’re the stuff of nightmares.”
“They are. One killed me that night, as well.” Krys turned startled eyes to him, and he grinned his feral grin. “Seems we had just enough Riders to go around.”
He turned back to M’Sada. “Recruiting gleasons could not have been easy. It shows how hard the Rebels are searching for the Queen. Know this: she represents failure for them. If the Last of the Chosen survives, the Rebels will be unable to hold the coup together.”
Otis turned glaring eyes to each of them. “Do each of you understand that?” Heads nodded, and he growled low in his throat.
“It might explain why they’ve been looking so hard for us, and why they were so successful,” Stven said. “They probably hoped they could reach her through us. But, Sire, if the gleason killed you and the Queen, who killed it?”
“The man of dirt.”
“He kills gleasons? And Chessori? And he flew halfway across the galaxy manually? Who is he?”
“He’s just a man, but he made the ultimate sacrifice for his Queen, twice. There’s a lot more to him, but his story is for another day. He is your First Knight, a title that has been earned many times over.”
Krys’ eyes sparkled. “I once told Daughter that she would find her knight in shining armor. I didn’t understand how she would do it since she was soon to be part of an arranged marriage, but her husband is dead now. Has she found her knight in shining armor?”
“You’ll have to ask her yourself, Krys.”
She smiled. His words were answer enough, and she was happy for the person who had come closest to being the mother she never knew.
Otis’ story was long, and parts were left out, but when he was done, a fire had been lit under the crew. What they’d gone through seemed paltry in comparison, but when Krys finished their story, Otis assured them it was not. “You’ve served your queen honorably and well,” he said.
He pulled Krys aside. “Is there anything you have not told me?”
“No, Sire. We have withheld nothing of which I am aware.”
“You must go to the Queen, without delay.”
“I will, Otis, but you should know this: I’m needed out here as much as I am there. In part, because I’m helping to spread the word to high ranking officers, but that’s not the main reason. Admiral Buskin has many more resources for reaching these officers, and he’s reached far more than I have. I need to be out here because my visions are helpful to the Queen. To have those visions, it seems I must be in contact with the person who is the focus of the vision, at least most of the time. Some of the people out here are going to play big parts in whatever is coming. If I can offer them guidance, it serves her.”
“She needs guidance, as well, Krys.”
“I don’t have to stay out here all the time.”
“And she might be able to provide you with some tools to help you in your job. It will be up to her. She’s a very smart lady, don’t ever forget. She’s out of her element some of the time, she’s learning how to be Queen just as we’re all learning the craft of state. She’s stumbling occasionally, but she has a plan, and you’re part of it. I’m glad we finally found you.”
“And now I have to go.”
“Yes, to her. I’m not going to tell you where she is, Krys. It’s not because I don’t trust you, it’s because you can’t tell what you don’t know.”
“Stven and M’Sada will have to know.”
“They’re Imperial Officers. They’ll handle the information appropriately.”
“What, kill themselves if we’re captured?”
“They’re fine officers, Krys. I would expect no less in these difficult times, and I’m certain they’ll deliver no less.” He opened his mouth in a leer, showing his vicious teeth. “It’s a good reason to win, to keep fighting under any circumstances, eh?”
In the end, Stven and M’Sada did not learn the location of the Queen. Buskin did, and Rappor remained at her berth in his hangar bay.
The voyage to Shipyard took ten weeks. During that time, Buskin continued working with his staff to develop fighting tactics. Serious fighting would take place eventually, and tactics for fighting squadron against squadron had never been considered during training at the Academy. Worse, it looked like fleets might end up fighting fleets, an extremely complex endeavor. He’d already spent considerable time working on the issue from his hiding place out among the stars, but there were a lot of unknowns, and he was not at all confident of success.
Stven and M’Sada had both attended the Academy, but their training had focused on small unit operations. Chandrajuski had promoted them early, and the requisite advanced training schools had not been provided. Buskin invited them to join with his staff for a glimpse of the bigger picture.
Buskin configured his Operations Center on the cruiser into its simulator mode, and his staff practiced war games. Stven caught on quickly and held his own with the more senior commanders under Buskin, and M’Sada took naturally to the task. He tended to act slower, with more deliberation, but his engagements were often more successful. Some of his suggestions found their way into what was becoming a primer for large battles.
But fighting the Chessori would be up to the Great Cats. Buskin, from his earlier observations of the cats as they trained aboard Brigand, knew that although they were great fighters, they were not well-suited to commanding fleets. Their skills, honed during centuries of survival, focused on individual and small group tactics. Never had the Great Cats been asked to function as squadron or fleet commanders, and they were not good at it. The cats needed to be commanded, if only to be ordered to retreat when appropriate. They didn’t like retreating, and none of them liked calling for help. They wanted a target, and they wanted to stay on that target until it, or they, were destroyed. The trainers aboard Brigand had resorted to keeping an Empire admiral far removed from the battle in an effort to avoid the Chessori mind weapon, and it worked, but it was not nearly as efficient as Buskin wanted.
Stven took to spending long hours with Borg, Kross, and Trist in front of screens, setting up problems and talking them through solutions. By starting with the most elementary tactics, then patiently moving on to more advanced problems, almost like using a textbook instead of the pressure of real time battles on the net, the Great Cats improved their grasp of the larger picture and made real headway.
Buskin was pleased, and he decided to order similar training when he returned to his fleet. In hindsight, he’d been asking too much of the cats who had never had the benefit of Academy training. He would start over at the beginning, just like at the Academy, and advance only when the cats were ready.
Krys was apprehensive at meeting the Queen. She hadn’t seen her for over twelve years now, and she’d been traipsing all over the Empire doing things in the Queen’s name, all without her permission. She felt small again, as if she was the 16 year old waif of a girl Daughter had pulled from an orphanage so long ago.
Tarn sensed her discomfort, but he, too, was concerned about what would happen following their meeting with the Queen. That they would be Tested was not a concern. What would become of Krys’ crew was.
“You know she won’t be upset with you. How could she?” he asked as they did their stretching exercises prior to meditation.
“You don’t know her. I do, but I don’t know how she’s going to take this. Tarn, I’m a Seer, her Seer, but I’m
