Star-Born Mage

by David Estes

If we don’t stop, then yes, Kukk’uk clicked.

  Dacre frowned at the general’s attempt at dark humor. Perhaps Jackals were not as one-dimensional as he’d always believed.

  The wall seemed to rush toward them, though Dacre knew it was an optical illusion. Kukk’uk cursed under her breath and clicked, We have to abort or we’ll be smashed into trillions of pieces. The Jackal started to twist one of the ropes in what Dacre assumed would be an effort to angle themselves off the edge of the landing strip and back into empty space. That’s when Dacre noticed two large contraptions on either side of the strip, just beyond the edges of the lights. They appeared to be large tritonium boxes. On the inner side of each, facing each other, was a long, narrow gash. Dacre had seen such contraptions before. At the Academy.

  “Wait!” he exclaimed, and Kukk’uk twisted the rope back the other way, straightening out. A moment later, they reached the space between the boxes. A bright red band of light shot out from either side, connecting precisely in the middle. As soon as the nose of their rig hit the light, the band seemed to stretch, as though it were not just light but of a real substance, flexible. At the same time, the rig began to decelerate rapidly, the bottom edges of the view port blazing with the red light.

  When they came to a complete stop mere meters from the rock wall, the red band of light simply vanished.

  That was close, Kukk’uk clicked. How’d you know that was going to happen?

  “History,” Dacre said, unclasping his safety restraints. Kukk’uk powered down the engine, which spluttered and coughed. Dacre was fairly certain it wouldn’t start again, not without substantial repairs. They were at the mercy of crooks and swindlers.

  I should fit right in, he thought, just as the voice came over their comms once more. “Nice landing,” the voice said. “Leave your weapons on board or you’ll be vaporized.”

  Chapter 17

  Intruders and Revelations

  Vee awoke to hissed cursing.

  It took her a few moments to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here. Seeing the cat at the starship’s controls brought her back to the present in an instant. It was Frank who was cursing, at the same time wrangling the control ropes like a space cowboy trying to hogtie an eight-legged Greznik at a Fradarian rodeo.

  “What’s happening?” Vee said, immediately answering her own question when she spotted something through the starboard viewport. “Is that…”

  “A wreckage colony,” the cat said, hanging onto one of the ropes as he tried to turn the damaged ship.

  “Maybe they can help us,” Minnow said, yawning as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

  “Meathead fool,” the cat said. “Wreckage colonies are breeding grounds for scoundrels and other unsavory characters. They’ll strip the starship of anything of value. And that includes us. Our organs will fetch plenty of Vectors on the transplant black market. Well, yours will. Me? They’ll shave off my fur to make a coat and roast me on an electric spittle for dinner.”

  “Furry know-it-all,” Minnow retorted. “I have half a mind to play furball golf. Guess who gets to be the furball?”

  “Please don’t injure our only pilot,” Vee said. Then, to Frank: “Can you avoid the colony?”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” the cat said, his voice strained as he swung on the rope, moving in a circle. Painstakingly slowly, the ship began to turn. Shards and chunks of metal glinted under the light of the red godstar. From this distance, the colony looked like a huge spaceship junkyard floating in space.

  Vee judged the distance and the angle they were on. Unless their trajectory changed drastically, a collision was imminent. “Al,” she said. “What’s the status of the repairs?”

  Yer mate is most helpful, Cap’n, the A.I. said. ’Nuther one-point-one days and we’ll be right as rain.

  The expression was foreign to Vee, but she got the gist from the context. Still, they needed to be ‘right as rain’ now. Or yesterday. “Are there other options?” she asked. “I could fire the mag-cannon.” The thought made her slightly ill—she didn’t know those inhabiting the wreckage colony. Killing them felt…wrong…even if they planned to do worse to her and her crew.

  “Imbecile!” Frank said. “We’re too close now. You’re as likely to damage our ship as the colony. I thought you were a mage.”

  “I got kicked out of the Academy!” Vee said.

  “You know much about magic, cat?” Minnow said, taking a threatening step forward.

  “A smidge,” the cat said. “Now back off, meathead, I’m trying to save our skin.”

  Vee put a calming hand across Minnow’s chest. “He’s right. We need him, even if he’s a condescending feline troll.”

  The cat smirked at that.

  “Al, send Terry back to the control room.”

  Aye, aye, Cap’n! All hands on deck!

  The A.I. was beginning to grate on her nerves, or it might’ve just been the frustrating situation she found them in. Either way, she would talk to the cat about changing the A.I.’s personality programming after they’d dealt with the wreckage colony—assuming they survived.

  “What’s going to happen when we get within range?” Vee asked Frank. The cat might be a smartass weasel, but he seemed to have experience or knowledge—maybe both.

  “They’ll capture us in an electromag field and force us to dock. Then they’ll come aboard.”

  Minnow cracked his knuckles. “Let ’em come.”

  “No rocket launcher,” Vee cautioned.

  “Always gotta ruin my fun,” Minnow said with a grin.

  Terry’s amphibious form appeared where a moment ago only the walls of the ship had been. Vee had been so focused on the wreckage colony she hadn’t noticed the tell-tale ripples of air as he moved into their circle. “This is bad. Very bad,” he said. “I’ve encountered groups like this before. They have no compassion, no mercy.”

  “What race?” Vee asked.

  “There will be more than one. At least a few rotten humans. Some Grems. A wayward Jackal or two. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got a Chameleot.

  “One of your relatives, perhaps?” the cat said.

  “Probably,” Terry admitted, taking no offense at the suggestion. “My clan has always been antsy. Few of us stayed on our home planet.”

  “Great,” Vee said. “Sounds like a real party. Al, I want you to do something for me.”

  Aye, Cap’n. Yer word is me command.

  “When they come knocking, let them in.”

  “What?” Minnow, Terry and Frank said in unison.

  Aye, aye, Cap’n, Al said.

  McGee, who had been watching the exchange with interest, said, “Tasty.” His fingers were already glowing.

  “Do you trust me?” Vee asked Minnow.

  “Of course, but—”

  “Terry?” Vee said.

  “I trust your father, and you’re his spawn…”

  Frank Stallone said, “Well, I don’t. Our best bet is to pick them off using the railguns as they approach. They’ll break down the doors, sure, but at least there will be less of them.”

  “Your advice is appreciated, Frank, but we’re doing this my way. Now here’s what we’re going to do…”

  When she was finished explaining her idea, Frank Stallone said, “I don’t like this plan. But I’ll do it.”

  ~~~

  “Gate’s open,” a gruff voice said. It was followed by a series of indistinguishable clicks and the light trod of muffled boots on the metal gangway.

  “Derelict?” another voice said, this one higher pitched and clearly female.

  “When’s the last time a dead fly crash-landed in our web? This starship is brand-sparklin’-new.”

  “A private vessel, no identifying marks,” the woman noted.

  “It’s been white-washed,” the deeper voice said. “Prolly stolen.”

  “Good. Then no one’ll be looking for it.”

  Vee peered through a crack in the ceiling panels, st
aying as still as stone in the cramped crawlspace brimming with magium piping, aluminum conduits, and wiring. At first she saw nothing but dark shadows, the footsteps drawing closer. A halo of light appeared, bouncing around as it entered the corridor beneath her.

  She bit her lip as the first of the scoundrels came into view. It was a Grobnik, hailing all the way from Godstar VII. The Grobs, as they were known, were one of the few allies of the Jackals. His arms and legs were as thick as mag-cannon barrels, his skin a deep navy blue that reminded Vee of the sky on Archimedes between sunset and full nightfall. His snout ended in a pair of slightly curved tusks, each of which were ivory but must have been infused with liquid tritonium considering the way they gleamed silver-gold under the glow of the light he was holding in a big fist.

  Stupid, stupid plan, she thought. I’ve doomed us all.

  “Kang, fix the damn lights,” the Grob said.

  The woman came into view, a short, small creature with narrow eyes and green skin spotted with red freckles. Not human, but a close relative. Mixing with the Jhinn was less taboo than with other races.

  “On it, boss,” she said, slinking away to the left, shining a light before her.

  The rest of the posse appeared one by one. Two Jackals. Three thick-necked Bronzians, two of whom were female but no smaller or less strong-looking than the male. There were several others as well, including four humans, their hair long and unwashed. There was even a Gremolin, its hunched, bony back casting a shadow across its gnarled face. An outcast, most likely, else why would it leave its planet?

  All were heavily armed with all manner of tech, from pistols to pulse hammers to railguns. The Jackals, of course, brandished dart guns, the tips shimmering with inky liquid aura.

  Vee salivated with desire. Her own lack of self-control made her ill. If not for the present danger, she knew she would drop from her hiding spot and lick the very aura from the darts.

  Keep it together.

  Besides the Jackals, however, it was the Gremolin Vee knew they needed to worry about. Grems were magic users, all of them. Just like other races had certain talents, some Grems were better with magic than others, but all carried the genetic makeup to process the stuff. And they liked their tech, building intricate new mag-weapons and magical tools deep underground, selling it to the highest bidders—mostly untoward characters looking to resell on the black market or use the weapons for nefarious purposes. The Grems had been an unsolvable problem for the Alliance for a long time.

  Vee watched the hunched creature like a hawk.

  “Spread out,” the Grob said. “Search every nook and cranny. If any remain alive, bring them to the control room.”

  The group disappeared to either side, but Vee counted slowly to ten before she eased the roof panel to the side, peeked in both directions to ensure the coast was clear, and then hang-dropped lithely to the floor. Despite her efforts to be quiet, there was a dull thud that echoed away.

  She froze, taking slow, calming breaths. No one shouted a warning or came running. So far so good.

  First, she checked her watch. Right on schedule. Three minutes until go-time. She tiptoed down the corridor, clinging to the wall. Not toward the control room, but away. Although she’d disagreed with the cat’s idea to start blasting away from the get-go, she agreed with the notion of reducing their enemy’s numbers.

  Starting with the three that had gone in this direction. The Jhinn woman. A human man who’d looked to be middle-aged and past his prime. And one of the Bronzians, a tall, broad-shouldered woman whose neck was almost wider than Vee’s waist.

  Vee listened to the magic thrumming through her veins as she drew her mag-pistol. She traced a simple spell she could manage blind with one arm tied behind her back while being carried over someone’s shoulders. A Class 1 casting, not to kill but to surprise and, if she was lucky, incapacitate. Flare. Her finger found the trigger just as she heard voices, soft murmurs, from around the corner.

  “The breakers have been tripped,” the Jhinn woman said from inside a room across the hall. “Gimme two ticks.” She had a soothing, lilting voice that belied her criminal nature.

  The Bronzian was standing guard, flicking the light around the utility room.

  Vee glanced at her watch. Thirty seconds. Where is the old guy? she wondered.

  “What do we have here?” a sharp voice said just as hands clamped around her from behind. They curled under her armpits and locked against her shoulders. Vee didn’t think—didn’t need to—her Academy training kicking in. Though the focus of her secondary education had been magic, no one entering the Alliance armed forces could avoid basic training, which included hand-to-hand combat. The guy couldn’t have made it any easier.

  She brought her heel up behind her, high and hard, drawing a satisfying grunt as it connected with the intended target. The strength in his hands and arms flagged, and she twisted away, bringing her mag-pistol to bear. Closing her eyes and squeezing the trigger.

  The man didn’t know to close his eyes.

  Even behind her eyelids, the brightness was fierce, and Vee was forced to cover her face with her free hand. The man howled, blinded by the point-blank flash of fiery light.

  He also collapsed, clutching his chest where the flare had smacked into him. He’d have a nasty bruise but would otherwise be okay. Vee kicked him in the ribs for good measure and turned toward the utility room, where the Bronzian now filled the doorway, using a meaty arm to shield her face. “Wut’s happening?” she said, holding a pulse hammer before her as if to ward off any would-be attacker.

  “Bloody bitch fried my eyes,” the man said, groaning as Vee offered him another kick.

  “I have a mag-pistol aimed directly at you,” Vee said, keeping her voice steady. “I am a Class 5 Alliance mage. Drop your weapon and I’ll go easy on you.”

  The Bronzian exploded forward, simultaneously grabbing a shield from her back and bringing it to bear as she slammed the hammer down just as Vee fired off another shot. In between kicks she’d traced another glyph, this one more powerful than the last: Blowtorch.

  A jet of fire erupted from the barrel, deflecting off her foe’s shield and burning a hole in the ceiling. A wave of pulsing energy rolled across the floor from the Bronzian’s hammerblow, the floor seeming to turn to liquid as it shifted under Vee’s feet. She lost her balance, but managed to get off another shot, the jet of fire skirting the edge of the shield and burning her enemy’s leg.

  The big female roared, toppling to the side and dropping her hammer as she clutched at her burned flesh and bone. She gritted her teeth as she stared daggers at Vee. Vee could see the anger, the hate, and the desire for revenge. Vee said, “Don’t,” her pistol aimed at the woman’s heart.

  The female reached for her hammer but was stopped not by Vee but by an enormous boot that came crunching down from the shadow of the doorway, pinning her hand to the floor.

  Minnow stepped out, illuminated by the dying embers of the flare and torchlight. In one hand he had the Jhinn by the scruff of her neck as she struggled and squirmed. “Heya, partner,” he said. “What should I do with her?”

  “Tie her up. It’s time to join the rest of the party.”

  Between the two of them they managed to bind the three intruders. The man spat curses at them the entire time, while the Bronzian said nothing. The Jhinn tried to reason with them. “If you give up now, it will be better for you. Malkin doesn’t like when his crew gets beat up like this.”

  “Then I guess it’s already too late,” Vee said.

  “Not necessarily. I can talk to him, reason with him. I can—”

  Vee stuffed a rag in her mouth.

  They locked the three in the utility room and started back the way they’d come. Minnow was wearing a huge grin. “What?” Vee said.

  “You’re even more of a badass now that you’re in charge.”

  “I’m not in charge,” she said.

  “Right. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do…’” he said,
doing a bad—at least in her opinion—impression of her voice.

  “If I didn’t say something that cat would’ve blown them and us up.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Minnow said.

  “Shh,” she said, pressing a finger to her lips and then pointing forward. Shadows moved along the wall where an intersecting corridor met the main one. Vee raised her mag-pistol, silently tracing the spell for Burn. There were several varieties of the spell, but this one was a low-grade, somewhere between Class 1 and 2. It wouldn’t sap her energy too much and wouldn’t incinerate bone and muscle like the Class 5 version would. She depressed the trigger halfway, drawing in a slow breath.

  McGee slunk out, turning in their direction. He stared directly into the barrel of her gun, shrugged, and then turned in the opposite direction and continued on as if mag-weapons were pointed at him regularly.

  “C’mon,” Vee said, lowering her weapon back to her side.

  The gateway to the control room stood wide open, voices spilling from inside, as well as a cringeworthy yowling sound. “Speak, cat, or we’ll cut out your tongue,” the familiar voice of the Grob—Malkin—demanded. “Why are you in Godstar IV? Where is the rest of your crew? What happened to your starship?”

  “Any preference as to which question I answer first?” Frank Stallone asked. It was followed by a thud and another yowl. “Careful with the merchandise,” Frank said. “I’m a delicate flower.”

  “You’re about to be a dead flower if you don’t start talking.”

  Vee peered around the edge of the frame, Minnow just behind her. “You want to take them or should I?” he whispered in her ear.

  She held up a hand, urging him to wait. Reconnaissance first. She counted the enemies inside the room. Besides Malkin, there were two Jackals with their magic-tipped darts, a tall, solid Bronzian male who stood as still as a statue, and a human female, her eyes flicking about nervously.

  Which left four unaccounted for: the last Bronzian, two humans, and the Gremolin. The latter troubled Vee the most. Potentially having a powerful magic-user in her blindspot was not ideal. Then again, she was running out of time and options. She had to trust that Terry and McGee had handled their business.