Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (62 page)

“Upstairs and seal yourself in,” he ordered, brooking no argument
.
“Leave a visor for me.”

Galborae stared at him, instantly understanding the plan and knowing it was the only way to do this. His arm itched to draw his sword, but he did as Otis instructed. When he reached the upper deck, he sealed the hatch, then personally inspected the rest of the hatches. Only then did he speak to Otis. “Okay, my friend.”

Otis stared for one more brief moment at the image of the gleason. He knew that as soon as he spoke, his ordeal would begin. He had not forgotten the feeling of gleasons ripping into his body, nor had he forgotten the taste of their blood.

He spoke. “Follow me. Keep your distance.”

He backed up the ramp and into the ship, never letting the gleason out of sight. He picked up the visor and put it on, then backed all the way to the other end of the shuttle and waited for the gleason to enter. When it cleared the ramp, he called down the length of the shuttle, “Have you ever been in a ship?”

“I came here in a ship. It was bad, very bad.”

“I believe you. I’m going to close the ramp. Stay where you are. We sealed this compartment off from the rest of the ship.”

The gleason stood where it was, but the moment the ramp closed, its image disappeared from the display on Otis’ visor. Otis called upstairs. “I’ve lost the helmet display.”

The pilot answered. “Our sensors look outside, not inside, Sire. I’m sorry I didn’t think of this sooner.”

“So am I. Head for whatever continent you’ve chosen and get someone working on this. I’m blind.”

He called to the gleason, as much to see if he could determine where the creature was as to converse with it. “When we take you to your new home, it will take many days.”

“Longer than it took to come here?”

“About the same.”

“We do not like confinement. I do not like this.”

“Nor do I. My men are going as fast as they can.”

“Your men. Hmm. They are not like you. You prefer to act alone. So do we.”

“You might want to reconsider that. Your opponent on this new world will challenge you as you’ve never before been challenged. He might even prove a more difficult adversary than my people did. You will achieve more ecstasy if you combine your efforts.”

“We have learned to do so here. We don’t like it.”

“I guess you know by now that the locals do not share in your desire for ecstasy. To them, your attacks just cause pain and death, and they did nothing to provoke you.”

“Knowing that adds to the ecstasy. Why don’t you join me here, right now?”

“No. We have an agreement. I hold you to that agreement.”

“You hold me to nothing. I hold myself. I see you. I smell you. I hear you. This might not work.”

Otis decided a change in subject might be in order. “How do we feed you when we take you to your new world? What do you eat?”

“We eat our kills, but one kill feeds many. We do not require food very often. We brought our own food for the journey here. We will do so again.”

“We can help.”

“No.”

Would you like to see your opponents on the new world?
”
Otis asked, deciding it was time to get off the subject of food.

“Yes. If I see them, my brothers will see them.”

Otis called back upstairs. “Can you send down a projector with a recording of the peicks and mulogs on Harac?”

The pilot’s voice came back. “Yes, Sire. We’ll have to download the recording from your cruiser. It’s tailing us so it won’t be a problem. How do we get the projector down to you?”

“Use the aft shaft. I’m alone back here, but don’t make a big fuss. You know what I mean.”

“Aye, Sire.”

“The cruiser has left orbit? It’s here?”

“Sire, we have a
lot
of ships here. We also have a lot of frustration—everyone wants to help, but you’re completely on your own.”

“I think I knew that. Galborae, do you have any advice for me or questions for the gleason? I’d like to keep it thinking about something other than its next meal.”

“I do, Sire. How long can they wait for our ships to come? What happens between now and then? Do we keep the caravans going or are the gleasons willing to leave us alone? How do we get them into the transporters when they get here? He claims he does not need food, but there will be huge gatherings of gleasons while they wait to board ships. Can they bring enough? I’m thinking about the gleasons we captured. They refused to eat.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it. How’s the projector coming? I’d like to wet his appetite before we make our first stop.”

“Soon, Sire.”

He called to the gleason—it was time to check its location again. “Do you understand the passage of time? Days, moons, light and dark?”

“We know light and dark. We prefer the dark. We have yesterday, now, tomorrow, the next day, and more next days. We have birth cycles and life cycles of many days.”

“It will be at least one birth cycle before my transport ships come, maybe more. Can you wait that long?”

“Are you giving me a choice?”

“No.”

“Then we continue sharing ecstasy as we have been until then.”

The projector came down and Otis set it up and turned it on. He had no idea if the gleason would understand what a recording was, but it seemed to get the message.

“They have weapons,” it called to him.

“Only a few, like you have a few here. Do you think them worthy opponents?”

“Who can say until we taste their ecstasy?”

The shuttle reached the next continent and the gleason began mind linking with others there. They traversed the continent for an hour, then the gleason called back to Otis. “They demand to see you.”

“Then they will see me. Guide me to wherever they want to meet.”

Otis relayed simple commands to the pilot, then the shuttle settled to a field swarming with gleasons. Otis informed his gleason that they had to clear the field before he would come out. When the gleasons retreated a reasonable distance, the ramp opened, the gleason stepped out onto the field, and its image kept moving away from the shuttle. Otis finally emerged amidst a suddenly great keening. He roared out his own challenge, but everyone held their positions. He snarled a few words to them, encouraging them to accept a new home, knowing his personal gleason would translate for everyone. Then he and the lone gleason returned to the shuttle.

The process repeated itself three more times, an intensely long day for Otis. The crew never succeeded in getting his visor working within the confines of the shuttle, so he had to be alert every second of every minute of every hour.

Otis was not a lot on imagination, but what imagination he had kept conjuring the gleason materializing beside him, it’s hot breath on him as it filleted his body. To make it worse, the gleason had no trouble seeing him—it knew precisely where he was at all times. He tried turning out the lights to even the score, but the gleason knew exactly what he was up to.

“Ahh, darkness. We prefer darkness. Do you?”

“No.”

“I thought not. You can’t see me, but I see you. I smell you. I will taste you.”

“Others of your kind have tasted me.”

The cloak moved. “They have?”

“Do you know why you came here?”

“Yes. This world was payment for our services.”

“But you paid the wrong side. They lost and are no more. I fought your brothers in a great battle.”

“There was much ecstasy?”

“For some there was none. For others, yes, but it would have been brief. All of them died. Every single one.”

“Ecstasy is all that matters.”

“I will never understand you.”

“If you did, the ecstasy would be weak. It would be like sharing ecstasy with my brothers.”

“The new world will be better. I hope you get to see it.”

The gleason did not respond, and Otis asked another question. “Why do you seek the sword?”

“The Sword? It’s here?” the gleason asked, its suddenly increased agitation clear to Otis.

“You did not answer my question.”

“It sings to us. It shines for us. Attaining ecstasy with the wielder of the sword is our greatest hope.”

The gleason’s words shocked Otis. He said in amazement, “It’s just a sword.”

“Just as you are the ancient enemy. Is it here?”

“I won’t answer that. It doesn’t matter.”

“I would taste the ecstasy of the one who wields the Sword.”

“More than you want to share my ecstasy?”

“More. Yes.”

“You’ll have to wait, then.”

After visiting the last continent, the shuttle headed back to its starting point. When it landed, Otis opened the ramp, the gleason exited the ship, and Otis followed, his visor working again the moment he stepped outside.

“We are done until the transports come. Then we will speak again,” he said to the gleason.

“No. One of us will not be there. It doesn’t matter. Everyone knows and will be ready. Just bring your ships.”

“Do not do this thing,” Otis called across the intervening 50 meters. “Save yourself for the new world.”

The cloak dropped to the ground as the gleason rushed him. It zigged and zagged with amazing speed, but Otis was a Protector—his aim was true. His first shot stunned the creature. It’s race toward him faltered, but only for an instant. Otis flung his helmet and visor aside as it came on, leaping erratically to avoid most of his shots. He managed to take off an arm, then another, then one side of its face, but by then it was on him. He flung the blaster away and leapt to the side as the creature struck, clamping his teeth onto its shoulder. The two went down entangled, vicious teeth seeking better grips while arms and legs tore at each other.

Otis could not wait—his soft underbelly lay exposed to those vicious claws. The gleason turned its head to look into his eyes, locking its one remaining eye on him in triumph, and that was all Otis needed. He clamped his teeth on its throat and ripped. The amber eye stayed locked on his until the light in it died.

* * * * *

Atiana, Havlock, and Galborae, were there two days later when Otis came out of the tank. Unlike humans, Great Cats did not transfer to a bed during recovery. They just washed off the tank nutrients in a shower, padded through the dryer, and went back to work. His wounds had been closed up surgically, and the tank had sped up the healing process. He would not run for a few more days, and he would step gingerly for the rest of this day, but Great Cats were always full of energy and did not sit still for long.

When he padded through the door, Galborae bowed. So, too, did Atiana. Her hands found fur around his neck that did not look like it was attached to a wound, and she hugged him.

He suffered her ministrations briefly, then shook her off. “Not many can say they’ve hugged a Protector,” he said gruffly.

“Not many can say a Protector redeemed their world,” she countered.

“Hmm. Actually, it happens from time to time. Your people will have their lives back.”

She nodded. “They will as soon as the transporters get here. We owe you a debt that can never be repaid, Sire.”

“Nonsense. You and Galborae stepped into that field with me. Do they owe you a debt?”

“They do, but they’re our people, not yours.”

“For years I believed my fate was to protect the Royal Family, but the Leaf People gave me a new calling, extending my services to everyone. I heard that call, I accepted that call, and it’s now what I do.
”

“You are truly a Great One, Sire.”

“So are all of you. You set us all, your people and mine, on the path we now follow.”

“Gar defined the path, Sire.”

“And all of us have stepped into a field of gleasons to make it happen. We’re all leaders, Atiana.” His gaze moved to take in the three of them. “I don’t doubt for a moment that our Empire will call on you for more.”

A shuttle landed outside the main gate of a town. It’s squad deployed, then Hawke stepped down the ramp using a cane for support. He could have used a floater, but he was determined to regain the strength he’d had prior to his last fight with a gleason almost four months ago.

Lieutenant Crowles met him and escorted him to the blacksmith’s open-air work area, then the two of them just watched.

Graylee worked with her back to them, heavy gloves covering her hands and arms up to her elbows as she pounded on a piece of hot metal, sweat soaking through the back of her blouse. The blacksmith kept a close eye on her every move and corrected her from time to time. Hawke studied her, amazed and proud of her regardless of what was to come.

When the blacksmith noticed Crowles, he turned toward him with a lifted eyebrow. The hammer in Graylee’s hand, poised to strike the metal yet again, stopped. She half-turned to see who the blacksmith was looking at and froze. When she started turning the rest of the way around and the hammer dropped from her hand, the blacksmith hastily took the tongs and hot metal from her.

She did not acknowledge Crowles—her eyes were only for Hawke. Hawke shuffled toward her before she found her feet, but when she did find them she stepped toward him in a daze. She stopped in front of him and studied his face, then her gaze firmed and moved down the rest of him, missing nothing. When she looked back into his eyes, she brought a hand to his face in wonder.

Hawke leaned forward to kiss her, but she took half a step back. “Not here. They frown on public displays of affection.”

“Is there anywhere more private?”

When dimples appeared, Hawke’s day brightened and his hopes lifted a little.

She took his arm possessively and led him outside, then around the back of the structure. When she stopped, she reached up to cradle his face again, her eyes sparkling. Hawke had a habit of disappearing on her every time he showed up, so she didn’t beat around the bush. “Am I holding my future in my hands?” she asked, her eyes studying his for the slightest hints at his inner feelings.

His heart skipped a beat at hearing words he had dreamed of hearing, but he did not answer immediately. He leaned forward to brush her lips with his own, but instead found himself caught in her grip, a strong grip that held his head so her lips could claim him. Her arms went gently around him in consideration of his injuries, but when he responded strongly, her hold tightened.

When their lips parted, she leaned away and said, “I’ve been waiting a long time for that. You haven’t answered my question.”

His eyes took on a hooded look. “I hope I’m your future, Graylee, but we have to talk. I might not stay.”

The dimples disappeared as she loosened her hold and stepped back, studying his eyes for more meaning, then looking away in confusion. He watched various expressions cross her face as she considered options, then she found what she was looking for and focused back on him.

“Lieutenant Crowles told me that might happen, that it sometimes happens to people who have been up close and personal with a gleason. I’m so, so sorry, Hawke. I’ve learned what this place means to you. It must be hard.”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated for a moment, then said, “I barely know you. In fact, I know more about you from growing legends than I do from my own time with you. What have we had—something like four or five days together, always in a crowd?”

“Something like that.”

“We’ve had a connection since the moment we met. I keep hearing your words in my mind: you said that occasionally in life you meet someone who you know is special, and that I’m her. Well, I
am
her, and you’re
him.
I’m not ready to leave here, but if you leave, I’ll go with you. All you have to do is ask.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then with the aid of his cane he stepped across the intervening space and lifted a hand to her cheek. “You’re right. We hardly know each other, but I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you back in that park on Aldebaran I. A day hasn’t gone by that my love hasn’t grown. I’ve missed you so much.”

She closed her eyes and put her arms around him again, hearing the words over and over in her mind. She had so wanted to hear those words, but for all this time—through the unthinkable demands of training to become a marine, then chasing him across light-years and through everything she had been through since coming to Tranxte—she had known she risked being the fool in coming here, in following him to Tranxte. Now she knew.

From his chest she looked to the side at weeds growing up among the blacksmith’s discarded leftovers littering the back of the structure. She loosened her grip on Hawke and backed away a few steps, saying, “Once I would have disdained this place where we stand. Now, I find it beautiful, almost as beautiful as you. You told me Tranxte was bloody and scary, that I would find disease and starvation and bed bugs, that the food was lousy and I would be too hot or too cold or just plain wet from the rain with no escape from it . . . and you were right.”

She looked away as she considered her next words, then turned and stepped back to him. She reached a hand out to his cheek with a sense of ownership now rather than just the hope she’d been clinging to. “You also said the locals fear us but that they hang on our every word, and that when Havlock, Atiana, or Galborae found you and gave you a pat on the back, that made everything worthwhile.”

She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand what she was about to say. “I haven’t seen any of them since I set foot on the ground here, but I’ve met people I’ll treasure for the rest of my life, people who need my knowledge even when they don’t want it. They’re who have made everything worthwhile for me.”

With a trace of frustration, she changed the subject, though unknown to her, she was not changing it. “Why wouldn’t you let me visit you when you came out of the tank?”

“Because I wanted you to see Tranxte through your own eyes, not mine. You can’t stay here because of me, Graylee. It has to be for yourself.”

“Given the option, I would stay here forever. I’ve come to think of Tranxte as home, but if being with you means I have to leave, I’ll go.”

He stared at her, savoring those words. Could he really be so lucky to have found the perfect match for himself? As important, could he be that to her? Could he stay that way for her? 

With a hint of impatience, she asked, “Answer me this: “Would you stay here for me?”

“Yes.”

She stepped back in surprise. “Just like that? You said you were leaving.”

He shook his head. “No, I said I might leave, but you’re telling me you want to stay.”

She nodded. “I do, more than anything I’ve ever wanted besides you.”

“Sweeter words would be hard to imagine. Would you feel that way if you’d had me to lean on these past months?”

Her thinking leaped ahead. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He leaned on his cane, then decided he needed to sit. His Rider kept most of his pain at bay, but there was still a lot of healing going on, and as much as he hated giving in to weakness, he had to trust the experts on this. He found a pile of rotting lumber and sat gingerly, patting the space next to himself. “Will you join me?”

She didn’t hesitate, sitting primly and facing him. She knew he was hurting and her heart went out to him, but marines ignored such things and she didn’t want to offend him by asking. Not yet.

“Havlock just got back and is as banged-up as I am,” he said. “As pathetic as the two of us are, we’re back at work. You can imagine how buried we are in demands from all over the planet after being away for months. Despite those demands, six of us—Havlock, Atiana, myself, Galborae, Milae, and one other whom you have not met—have been on Tranxte for the last four days with only one purpose: to follow the path of the Builder.”

Her brow furrowed. “Crowles calls me that. Are you talking about me?”

He nodded. “I am. We visited each of the places you’ve been and we talked with the people you dealt with.”

“What?
Without me?” She leaned away from him with a trace of anger showing.

He reached out a hand to her face. “I knew you would be right for Tranxte, but we had to make sure.”

“And . . .?”

“I think Havlock was sold at our first stop. A young girl by the name of Pen greeted him in near perfect Galactic High Standard. She’d clearly been practicing with you in mind since she addressed him as M’Lady, but she corrected herself.”

Hawke watched as Graylee’s eyes brimmed almost to overflowing. That amazing mouth of hers couldn’t make up its mind weather to smile or cry so he leaned over and kissed it. The smile won, but the tears brimmed over.

“The wall’s done?”

“It is, though the gleasons have never attacked the fabric you installed. We’re considering its use as a tactical weapon. We might be able to use it to control gleason attack routes in particularly troubling places. By the way, Builder Thaeron had three pipes built and joined together, though they weren’t hooked up to anything yet.”

She blinked away her tears and looked into the distance, imagining Thaeron at work. The dimples returned with a warm smile. “I’d like to see it.”

“So tell me,” he countered, “what exactly are you doing here with the blacksmith?”

“Well, it’s sort of a joint project. He’s teaching me how to work metal, and I’m teaching him how to make steel. All they have right now is iron. We haven’t made a quality batch of steel yet, but we’re getting closer.”

Hawke rubbed his chin. “What happened to those baby steps?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “It is a baby step . . . well, steel might be skipping ahead a little, but there are a few pieces of infrastructure that, once in place, will enable them to really step out on their own. I think steel is one of them.”

“What else?”

“We talked about this back on Aldebaran I. Remember how you wanted to install fusion plants in every town to get them started with electricity and I said no? People here lack knowledge, but they’re smart and their craftsmanship is second to none. I want to plant seeds, and only seeds. Once the seed sprouts, they’ll take it the rest of the way through their own creativity and ingenuity. I’m focused on three areas at the moment: health, power, and transportation.”

“Isn’t Kori our health person?”

She nodded. “We talk regularly. She’s in agreement with me that we need to deal with sewage. As for power, everyone I’ve seen so far on the planet is using human or animal muscles to accomplish work. The seed I want to plant is the engine, probably a simple steam engine. A lot of people have died at the hands of the gleasons and from disease. Engines will significantly improve the productivity of survivors and will help them move water, improve manufacturing, and eventually improve transportation. Most people have no good way of traveling between towns so they just stay put, relying on traders to move small amounts of supplies. As engines and other machines become more complicated, parts will be made in different towns and cities, and easier, faster transportation will foster commerce in the process. While it’s doing that, it will foster the exchange of ideas.

“The concept of a steam engine will lead to the development of internal combustion engines, then turbines to generate electricity and methods of manufacturing those things, including wires to bring electricity to users. Electricity, whether we let them invent it or we just give it to them as a concept, will be the next really big leap. Since they’ve seen us using it, I’m hoping they might come up with it on their own.

“Carrying water to homes will be a natural follow-on to the pipe building project. When they see the benefit of that, they’ll design metering valves and water towers and pumps to make their systems more efficient. Clay pipes will lead to iron pipes and better engines to make production more efficient.”

“Did you ask anyone?” Hawke asked.

“Who would I ask? You all left. Kori’s helped with resources, but she keeps reminding me she’s a specialist in a fairly narrow field, and General Stymes never hesitates to remind me he’s a soldier. They listened to me, then essentially told me to do what I thought best. Have I erred?”

Hawke smiled. “On the contrary. You’re everything we hoped you would be and more. Actually, far more. You clearly have your arms around a process, a process we want you to guide the rest of us through. While we’ve been working from the top down, meaning kings and queens and emperors, you’ve been working from the bottom up. You’ve done it essentially on your own, and you’ve chosen well.”

“I’m not going to continue on my own. We need the synergy of group thought to come up with a better program.”

“Which would be what?”

“I might be a builder, but I’m also a teacher and I have some thoughts along those lines. I think your plan is to eventually bring in a bunch of experts from the Empire to teach these people, and I don’t doubt for a moment that we will, but they don’t have to be our only resource.”

“Who else can do it?”

“Locals. I don’t know if I can pull it off, but I’ve met some wonderful, young, potentially creative people here. Take Pen, Builder Thaeron’s daughter. She’s bright and curious. I can see her and others sitting in class beside Queen Atiana learning mathematics and writing and science. If they saw Tranxte from orbit, they’d quickly get a feel for the scope of what they’re doing.”