Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (28 page)

Her arms went around him and he returned the embrace, gathering her head to his chest with one hand while the other encircled her back. Neither of them felt the need for words. She eventually leaned back, her eyes sparkling as they stared into his.

He smiled back at her, sharing in the warmth and commitment she radiated. “My Lady, is this appropriate for a queen?”

“Probably not,” she said, smiling back a little sadly. “Don’t talk. Just let me enjoy for a while.”

His arms gathered her in again. The silence lasted a long time. She was the first to break it. “I don’t want to spoil this, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“My Lady?”

“What preoccupies you so?”

“Gleasons.” He took a step back from her. “Thank you for the respite. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of much besides gleasons.”

“I challenge you to tell me I haven’t occupied a small part of your thoughts every day, sir.”

The grin found its way back to his face, making him look more like a boy than a man. “More than they should, Atiana. You’re never far from me even when you are.”

She reached a hand up to his face. “Then tell me.”

His mood darkened and he turned away. He took a few steps, then turned back to her. “Actually, it’s not you or the gleasons, and it’s not the progress we’re making. In time we’ll defeat the gleasons even if we have to bring 10,000 squads. The issue is that what we’re doing is wrong.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wrong? How can killing gleasons be wrong?”

“It’s complicated, but I’d sure like to bounce this crazy idea off of someone.”

She smiled and pulled him to a couch. “Sit, Sky Lord.” When he sat, she sat next to him and pulled his arm over her shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to be alone.”

Her eyes twinkled. “That I am, but this is important to you. Share it with me.”

He closed his eyes and relished the feelings emanating from her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, but she would have none of that. She turned and lifted her lips to his.

When they came up for air, she said softly, “We don’t have to talk at all, you know.”

He ran a hand through golden ringlets, then looked into her eyes. “Talking would be best right about now, don’t you think?”

* * * * *

Trader Markesan wanted to return immediately to Tricor, his load of salt and other items badly needed in the province. Galborae shuttled over to him from the meeting of kings and pulled him into the first room he came to for a private discussion.

“I don’t know you well, Trader, but the Sky Lord holds you in high esteem.”

Markesan’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know!”

“Well, he’s not always forthcoming with praise, but it’s true. You’re a trader, and I’m here to deal. Tell me . . . what’s more important to you, returning to Tricor with your goods or continuing to fight gleasons?”

“Uh, they go hand in hand.”

“Not so. Your convoy was a huge success. We see very few gleasons between Tricor and here now. Your return to Tricor would not be without risk, but it would be nothing like what you just went through.”

“What’s your point?”

“I want you to keep going. I want you to press on to a neighboring kingdom, a kingdom outside our province. You and your men are fully trained now.”

Markesan’s expression turned dark. “Caravans are about trade, not fighting. I need my profits to survive. What about the other caravans?”

“I’m asking all of them to do just as I’m asking you, to continue beyond.”

Markesan looked at him like he’d gone nuts. “Tricor badly needs the load of salt I bought here. They’ll pay dearly. You want me to give up all that profit?”

“You haven’t heard my offer. What if I give you all the profit you would have made in Tricor and let you take an equally profitable load of salt to the next kingdom farther out?”

“Tricor needs the salt.”

“I’ll get it to them. What do you say?”

Markesan remained silent for a while, then he nodded thoughtfully, saying, “I’ll put it to my men and get back to you.”

“Put it to them this way: it’s not only the money. They just completed a journey which will become a part of our history. In the process, they successfully passed the Sky Lord’s test. He now wants to test you further. He wants you and your men to take on more of the fight by providing fewer marines and only limited shuttle cover. For every marine he takes away, he’ll spot you two trained knights.”

“We only had six knights on the road, and them only for the last week. That’s not a bad bargain.”

“I know, and I’ll be with you as much as I can. You haven’t seen me on the road, I’ve been healing, but I know what I’m doing. I’ll go with you, and the knights I bring will answer to me. Until I judge them fully trained, you’ll have a full complement of marines.”

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m not sure I like it. The Sky Lord wants us to fight the gleasons on our own.”

“Never completely on your own, Trader, but it’s a matter of resources. There are more kingdoms than you can imagine. The Sky Lord wants to reach all of them. He can’t do it if his men stay here.”

“You’re going to teach your knights how to work the machines that send out ghost riders?”

Galborae squirmed. “Maybe. We’re fighters, not magicians. We might need to bring a few scholars into the picture, or maybe some entertainers.”

Markesan rolled his eyes. “Surely you jest.”

“I wish. They’re a last resort, but I’ll be surprised if my knights can do it.” He looked hard into Markesan’s eyes. “I’m asking you to help save our homes. If we fail, we fail our families and our descendants. On the other hand, if we make this work, we’ll free the Sky Lord and his men to spread our successes elsewhere.”

“How will you get the salt to Tricor?”

“It’s the Sky Lord’s problem. Maybe by shuttle, though he might have to use the transporter.”

Resolve
fast shipped into orbit three months later, surprising everyone. Sir Stven hailed Havlock's transporter and requested a meeting with Galborae. Captain M’Kind took the call on the transporter and was shocked that the request did not include Havlock, but the request was from a Knight so he passed the word to Galborae who was down on the surface.

Galborae, after just a little thought, was not particularly surprised. After all, he was the only one on Tranxte who the great Knights on this particular ship knew. He notified Havlock before boarding a shuttle.

Havlock's response surprised him. “Okay, keep them occupied. I need at least a day, and two days would be better. My three caravans are heavily engaged.”

“You’re going to keep a Great One waiting?”

“I know, I know, but fighting comes first. Two caravans reach their objectives tomorrow. I’ll spend that time turning things over to a new commander. Take Atiana with you. She’ll keep them entertained, meaning she’ll keep their thoughts off of me.”

* * * * *

When Galborae's shuttle docked with
Resolve
, he and Limam stepped through the docking mechanism first. Borg was the first to greet them, the ferocious leer indicating his approval of the knight and meld he had helped rescue so many months earlier.

"Welcome back, both of you,” he said.

A healthier and much more confident Galborae than they had known answered, "We had no idea you were coming. I thought you were done here."

Terry Washburn, the first person aboard
Resolve
whom Galborae had met, was right behind Borg. He stepped around the Great Cat and extended a hand to Galborae. "You're looking fit, my friend," he said.

Galborae reached out and clapped him on the back, then stepped back and rubbed a hand across still healing ribs. "I was better before my conversation with a gleason."

“Again?” Washburn exclaimed. Then a thoughtful expression filled his face. ”Surely you don't mean that literally.”

Galborae’s lips came together in a grim smile. "We have a lot to talk about, but first, will you welcome my queen, Queen Atiana?”

Washburn's eyebrows rose. Borg's narrowed. "We only invited you," he growled.

“She will justify her presence."

Atiana was part way through the lock when she saw the Great Cat. Ancient instinct drew her eyes first to its face. Deadly cold and impersonal amber eyes glared at her from above a fierce muzzle. Longer and narrower than a meld’s, with red and black and gold skin gathered in ridges, the ridges of the muzzle were, at the moment, lifted to expose vicious-looking teeth. Her hand reached toward her blaster before she even had time to think.

Fortunately, since Borg and Washburn were far quicker on the draw, her hand had barely moved when she came to her senses. She stared into the barrels of their blasters, then she noticed that the paw of the vicious cat holding one of those blasters was not a paw at all. It was a hand.

"My apologies, Sky Knight. I should have known better,” she said to the enormous cat.

Borg's lips lifted further, though his blaster did not waver. "You're not the first to react so to my species. Sky Knight? That's a new one."

"Not so new here. Your people have earned the title."

Borg nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting.” He paused, then added, “You might be a head of state, but there are certain formalities I must follow for the safety of the ship."

She studied him in return. Yes, he was talking about the safety of the great Knights for whom he took responsibility. Although such procedures might be different in her own domain, it was not difficult to imagine the requirements he would need to fulfill aboard this ship. She nodded and reached slowly for her blaster with two fingers. She pulled it free of its holster and handed it to Washburn, her steady gaze never leaving Borg’s.

She lifted her arms and held them out to her sides in invitation. Borg just motioned for her to step forward a few steps. Without knowing it, she passed through sensors that looked for a lot more than just weapons. He glanced at a pad on the wall, then turned glaring eyes to Galborae.

"You could have warned her about me."

"I wish I had. In truth, she’s spent a lot of time aboard the transporter. Since coming out of the tank she has met individuals of many different species." He turned to Atiana. "My apologies, Your Majesty."

"She was in a tank?" Borg queried.

She answered for herself. "I'm a queen at war, gentlemen. I lead from the front, and I know the feel of a gleason’s claws. You will not see me in fine clothes again until the gleasons are gone.”

Borg stepped back and bowed. "Your words bring to mind another. I assume you mean dead, not gone."

"No. I say what I mean."

Borg and Washburn both turned questioning looks on Galborae. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "I'll settle for dead.”

Borg's gaze shifted back and forth between Galborae and Atiana. “Clearly, there's more to your story." He studied Atiana's blaster, a weapon modified into a dual purpose stunner and blaster. "I've not seen one of these before."

"Colonel Havlock had them modified aboard the transporter. They're in limited supply until his main fleet gets here."

"Hmm. I’d like to meet him."

"Not for a day or two," Atiana replied. "He's up to his eyebrows in gleasons at the moment."

Borg's leer returned. "He'll respond to a summons from a Knight."

Atiana stared hard into his eyes. "He will. Let me ask you this: is your Knight's purpose here to help or to hinder?"

The leer disappeared from Borg's face, though Washburn's bright white teeth flashed in a brief smile of his own. This woman was definitely growing on him.

She was apparently growing on Borg as well. He nodded to Washburn. "Return her weapon to her." He turned and led the way deeper into the ship.

As they stepped out onto the executive level, Atiana gasped at the elegant tapestries and artwork adorning the walls and ceiling.

“You live in splendor," she said.

Borg stopped and turned back to her. "Actually this ship belongs to our Queen. We're only borrowing it. That said, our Queen and her Knights all lead from the front just as you do. Without Lady Krys, your world would be dealing with the gleasons without our help, and there would be many more of them. It is she who discovered their presence here, and when we arrived we successfully destroyed a number of ships attempting to deliver more."

“You misinterpret my meaning, sir. I meant the comment as a complement. I hope the day comes when we can return the arts to their natural place on my world as well."

Borg cocked his head and stared at her, then abruptly turned and resumed his lead. When they reached a particular door, he spoke a command and the door to Krys' quarters opened.

Inside, Lady Krys stood beside Sir Tarn, and several Terran Protectors stood idly around the room, though they were, in fact, stationed strategically. Stven had been in the room with them, but he knew the presence of a dragon would only add to Queen Atiana’s uneasiness. He had returned to the bridge to monitor the meeting from there.

Galborae entered the room and immediately went to one knee. Atiana followed his example.

"Are you kneeling?" Krys demanded.

"Yes, My Lady," Galborae answered.

“Stand, both of you,” Krys ordered. “Anyone who fights gleasons need never bow before me." While they stood, she extended a hand toward Galborae’s voice. "Welcome back, my friend.

Galborae took her hand, then Tarn's hand. "You remained true to your promise, My Lady, Sire. Thank you."

"Will you introduce us?" Krys asked.

Galborae reached for his queen's hand and brought her forward. "Lady Krys, Sir Tarn, please meet Queen Atiana."

Tarn bowed and Krys reached a hand out. Atiana took that hand and brought it to her own face. Krys studied the woman standing before her through the light touch of her fingers, fingers that had grown more sensitive since her blinding.

While she felt, she said, "We hold Sir Galborae in high regard, Your Majesty. I tasked him with responsibilities far beyond anything life on your world prepared him for."

Atiana remained silent as she studied this tall, slim, dark-haired Great One of the Empire. She could not even imagine the responsibilities this blind woman, a woman of her own apparent age, dealt with on a day-to-day basis.

When Krys lowered her hands, her inspection complete, Atiana said, ”My Lady, Sir Galborae delivers on his promises to you every single day. He is Colonel Havlock’s right-hand man. Let me thank you in the name of my people for what you’ve done for us. Your sending Colonel Havlock has been a great blessing to us in our fight against the gleasons."

Krys tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “You say 'my people.' To whom do you refer?"

"To the people of Tranxte, of course."

"You speak for everyone? I didn't think your world was united under one banner."

Atiana took a step backward, suddenly embarrassed before this great woman. "My apologies, My Lady. You're right: I rule over only a tiny piece of my world. Colonel Havlock never stops looking at what he calls the big picture, and I guess I've unconsciously begun doing the same."

A knowing smile lit Krys' face. “I know the feeling. I, too, spoke in another's name before my position became official. I hope your people come to appreciate you for who you are. I think we're going to get along well." She raised a hand out to her side, welcoming them to join her in a nearby sitting area. “I keep hearing the name Colonel Havlock. I get the feeling I should have invited him as well."

Tarn led Krys to the couch, then motioned for Atiana to join her there.

"My Lady, our problems must seem small compared to those you deal with on a daily basis."

"Has Colonel Havlock or Sir Galborae explained the troubles within our Empire?"

“I know you’re in the midst of a rebellion.”

Krys nodded. “We're close to cleaning up the last of it. My Queen is restored to her throne, though it has come at great cost, and the war is not yet over. Our immediate focus has shifted to defeating an enemy somewhat akin to the gleasons here. That enemy comes from far away and wields a terrible weapon, a weapon of the mind that incapacitates everyone. Just as you were essentially powerless against the gleasons, my Empire was, and still is, powerless against these Chessori. Out of the whole galaxy, only the people from one small, seemingly unimportant emerging world have the ability to fight them. They have allied with us. We’re supporting them in every way we can, but they have to do all the fighting.”

Atiana stared at the ceiling for a time before replying, her eyes going from side to side as she reviewed the fighting on Tranxte since the arrival of the off-worlders. "So that's where he got the idea.”

"What idea?" Krys asked.

“His resources are quite limited. He’s expanding them by enlisting and training my people to fight the gleasons with Empire weapons and equipment."

Krys smile sadly. "Probably not. He's a soldier, not a general. We keep this emerging world’s existence as secret as we can. I doubt if he’s ever heard of it, and I would be very surprised if he knew our strategies.”

Atiana stood up and turned toward Krys with her eyes narrowed. Borg tensed but did not change his position in the room. “You think him just a soldier? You're wrong, My Lady, so, so wrong. The Sky Lord is a man with a great vision worthy of your Empire. I don't support his vision entirely, but I support him."

Krys frowned. “You speak of visions. What visions?"

"His vision for my world and his vision for the gleasons."

"And those are?"

"He has all of us focused on killing gleasons, but in his heart he searches for a way to keep from killing them.”

Krys sank back into the couch thinking deeply. When she straightened up again, she asked, "How can you possibly not want to kill gleasons? Every one of us has personally fought them. I think I speak for all of us when I say our only hope was to kill them before they killed us."

"My own sentiment exactly, My Lady. The Sky Lord and Sir Galborae stood out in an open field before a gleason and actually spoke with it. Did you know?"

Borg's response to her words startled her so much that her blaster jumped into her hand. What started as a roar turned into a loud, continuing snarl as the Great Cat paced the room, throwing his head from side to side.

Blasters in the hands of Protectors, followed shortly after by Tarn, appeared as if by magic, all of them pointed at Atiana.

Washburn was the only exception. He stared at Borg in disbelief, having never before seen a Protector place his protection duties second to anything. He called softly but urgently to Atiana, "Your Majesty!" He stepped to her side and placed himself between her and Krys, then reached out a hand to her weapon, gently pushing it down.

Atiana lifted alarm-filled eyes to the huge, black-skinned man, then around the room at the other blasters pointed at her. With another glance at the Great Cat, she released the weapon into Washburn’s grasp. Blasters in the hands of Protectors slid back into holsters.