Star-Born Mage

by David Estes

  Before he could speak, an attendant stepped forward and clipped something onto his shirt—a microphone. “It’s all in my report,” he said, his voice booming through the Council Dome. He didn’t step forward. What am I doing?

  The AC’s eyes narrowed slightly before returning to that practiced neutral gaze. “Your report contains facts, Tech Tramone. I’ve personally reviewed your history. Number one in your class with dual degrees in astrophysics and planetary studies. Both degrees from Outer Rim University. Your thesis was of particular interest: Interplanetary politics in an age of ruin.”

  “You—you read my thesis?” Tramone was shocked. He was surprised the uni evaluation committee even read his thesis. It had been quite controversial at the time. His advisor had cautioned him against the topic, but back then he’d been stubborn. Foolish. It was that thesis that had destroyed all the possibility the future had held for him, landing him a permanent position on Space Station Delta.

  “Of course. Though I disagree with several of your conclusions, your logical reasoning was top-notch. I would love to discuss it further once this little mess is behind us. Now back to the topic of interest. We’ve all read your report and studied the data from your terminal. What we want from you now are your opinions on what it all means. What is happening? What is this unidentified…thing…that is heading for us? According to your estimates, it will reach the Godstar Galaxy in less than two days.”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “But you must have a guess. Your history paints you as a critical thinker. Your IQ is about twenty points higher than my own, and that is no small feat. So please, Tech Tramone, give us your thoughts. There is no wrong answer. We need information. Our galaxy’s fate may depend on it.”

  Tramone took a deep breath. Yes, this woman was a politician, and he had a rule of not trusting politicians, but she was also trying to save the galaxy. And if he could help…

  He stepped forward. Said, “I believe it’s an alien race coming to destroy us all.”

  The AC’s eyebrows rose as a series of chuckles bounced around the space. AC Martin, however, didn’t laugh or even crack a smile. “Tech Tramone, while I’m certain you have your reasons for such a theory, I assure you that’s impossible. We have probes in all corners of the universe to detect just such an attack well in advance.”

  “Weren’t some of those probes destroyed?” Tramone was feeling bolder, like the person he was back in his uni days, when he was a rising star and not confined to a tiny space station in the middle of the void of space.

  “Some have malfunctioned, but they are always swiftly replaced.”

  “So if you patch up the holes in a fisherman’s net, how can you be certain none of the fish escaped while you were doing it?” Tramone countered. Debate logic. It was what had earned him a permanent spot on his galaxy-champion debate team. Tell him there were no oceans on Urkusk and Tramone would find a way to convince you that a puddle of water met the criteria to be called an ocean.

  I’m not that man anymore, am I? Tramone thought.

  “Our probes are far more sophisticated than some rudimentary tool used to capture aquatic creatures,” the Archchancellor said.

  “I know that. I led the team that designed one of them. The MIR 1.0 which has since been upgraded sixteen times. I’m guessing that wasn’t in my file, considering its origins were classified at the time. The Alliance didn’t want it to get out that their most advanced probes had been created by a bunch of uni students. Of course, when we designed the probe, we named it the RIM 1.0. The Alliance team that…borrowed it…simply reversed the order of the letters and repackaged it.”

  “You are full of surprises, Tech Tramone. However, I must admit I find your explanation…somewhat farfetched. Is it true you logged more than 10,000 hours playing a galactosphere game called God of Mages while serving aboard Space Station Delta?”

  Tramone felt heat rise to the surface of his cheeks. “That was just to pass the time. Our terminals had multiple screens.”

  “Of course. We’re not judging.” She smiled thinly. “I’ve been known to dabble in a game or two when I unwind after a long day of governing the galaxy. But isn’t one of the most well-known scenarios in that game one in which an alien race from the farthest reaches of the universe attempts to destroy the galaxy?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And don’t they attack from a massive planet-ship with the capability to vaporize entire star systems?”

  “That’s true, but this is—”

  “Reality. I know. My entire life has been spent grounded in reality. The reality that our resources are scarce. That there isn’t enough food to go around. Even here in my beloved home city, there is poverty. The slums grow day by day. I visit them sometimes, to pass out food from the Alliance’s reserves. It breaks my heart to see children running barefoot through the streets, when several blocks over there are citizens dining on Eltrucian caviar that sells for four thousand Vectors an ounce.

  “It breaks my heart that an event meant to bring spirit and hope to the masses, like the annual Miss Universe Pageant, can become a horrific news story because of the Jackal terrorists. The same Jackal terrorists who are in league with an ex-Academy mage-in-training who stole a prime artifact from the Alliance along with a substantial supply of pure liquid aura.”

  Tramone frowned, trying to line up all these facts in his head. He’d heard about the Jackals’ attack on the pageant, but the other facts were new, which meant they were classified. But what did they have to do with each other? Further, what did they have to do with his report and the impending attack on their galaxy?

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, Tech Tramone,” AC Martin continued. “The Jackal terrorists were recently tracked to Urkusk during the same period in which an unexplained magical phenomenon occurred.”

  Tramone’s frown deepened. Where a few moments ago he had thought he had the advantage, he now felt ten steps behind. I’m a fool. This was no uni debate competition. He was talking to the most powerful woman in the galaxy. Duly chastened, he asked, “What sort of phenomenon?”

  “One that destroyed the black-market asteroid field known as Coffee’s Alley. One that sent such a surge of aura-based energy out of our galaxy that it disrupted a dozen galactosphere towers. One that reached out and touched the path of the very…thing…you’ve been tracking for the last few days.”

  Tramone froze. “What—what happened?”

  “That’s where our information gets a little…fuzzy. There was an explosion of some kind, but it wasn’t destructive. Perhaps the surge hit a shield of some sort, but there was no deflection as one would expect. It was like the energy was absorbed into the thing.”

  Oh godstars, Tramone thought. If that was true, then… “It’s moving faster now.”

  “Perhaps.” She said it without emotion, as if a sped-up countdown to doomsday was something she faced on a daily basis, item four on her to-do list. One, eat breakfast. Two, shower and makeup. Three, read the holo-news. Four, save the galaxy from certain destruction.

  “Do you have a new estimate?”

  “Of course. Twenty-three hours and some minutes and seconds.” An attendant stepped forward and whispered in her ear. “Sorry, time really is flying. We are just under twenty-three hours now, assuming your calculations are correct.”

  Tramone knew his calculations weren’t the problem. They never were. “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re not quite there yet, Tech Tramone. First, we must determine the origin of what is coming. Clearly, it’s some sort of an alliance between the Jackals and Gremolins. Why else would the Grems allow the Jackals to land on their planet and then use their stolen aura to create the surge that powered whatever is coming. They must’ve been planning this for years, maybe even decades, don’t you think?”

  Tramone had been so set on the fact that the attack was from some alien race that it took his mind a few moments to recalibrate. The new information changed everythi
ng. Could he have been so clouded by the numerous hours he spent playing a silly game? He knew the answer was yes. He wasn’t the same person he was back in uni. His mind had been suppressed by boredom and wasted years. But that was then, and this was now.

  “Yes,” he said. “They could’ve used cloaking technology—or even stealth magic—to build a massive ship outside of the galaxy. It would’ve taken years, but it is possible. Once finished, they could’ve gained speed from millions of lightyears away, adding a final thrust from the magical surge you detected from Urkusk. Yes, it is possible this thing is part of a terrorist attack.”

  AC Martin nodded thoughtfully, as if his opinion was more valued than any she’d received from her advisors thus far. “It is as I feared. We always believed the Jackals and Gremolins were isolated, and thus, easy enough to contain. But together…they are dangerous. Pairing powerful mages with those who hold the greatest supply of liquid aura in the known galaxy…”

  “We must stop them!” Tramone said. “If we can access the aura reserve on Jarnum, perhaps the Alliance mages can create a spell large enough to destroy whatever is coming.”

  “We’ll need your help,” the Archchancellor said. “That’s why you’re here.”

  “I—I’m no mage.”

  “I know. But whatever is coming is a piece of technology powered by aura, the likes of which we have never encountered. It will take a combination of magic and technology to stop it. You’ll have every Alliance resource at your disposal. We need you to build a weapon in less than a day. Our mages can use to save us all. Can you do it?”

  Tramone knew he could, because he’d once designed such a weapon, which the Archchancellor surely already knew. He’d intended it to be his thesis, but his advisor had taken his designs because they were ‘too dangerous’ and he hadn’t seen them since. “I believe I can.”

  “Good. Then let’s vote on the course of action. Here is the motion I suggest: First, an immediate invasion of Jarnum without prejudice. Second, the arrest of one Dacre Avvalon, a Class 4 mage who was expelled from the Mage Academy, and who is now known to be colluding with terrorists. Third, the arrest of one Verity Toya, who has been seen pursuing Mage Avvalon. Verity was also expelled from the Mage Academy during the same incident as Avvalon. Until we know more about her role in the events of the last several days, she should be considered an enemy of the Alliance. And fourth, a declaration of war on Urkusk, to be carried out immediately following the invasion of Jarnum. Vote now, Vice Chancellors, or forever hold your peace.”

  Tramone was shocked at the speed of the process, watching as an enormous holo-display appeared in the center of the Council Dome. Votes began to appear, the vast majority on one side of the display, the half designated as ‘In favor of.’

  When the votes stopped going up, AC Martin said, “By a vote of eighty-six to twelve, the motion is carried in full. May the godstars shine upon our decision. The Alliance Council is convened.”

  She turned back to Tramone, who stood as still as stone, bewildered by the series of events that had led him to this place at this time. The Archchancellor said, “Come, Tech Tramone, you will ride in my personal starship. Alliance engineers are already working on your design.”

  PART V

  ONE DAY UNTIL THE EVENT

  Chapter 37

  Hyperchase

  The Chameleot watched him with narrowed eyes. Every so often, Terry’s skin shimmered and then he vanished into his surroundings before reappearing a few moments later. It was disconcerting, but Dacre did his best to ignore the prisoner. He’s Vee’s friend, he reminded himself. He’s only trying to help her.

  He took a calming breath and tried to focus on the present. Nothing mattered if they didn’t make it to Jarnum in time. Though he knew they still had a full day before the Demonstrous arrived in their galaxy, he felt a sense of urgency. He could feel the pull of the place of his birth, a home he barely remembered anymore, other than fleeting images of a childhood that felt like someone else’s life.

  “Prepare for hyperspeed,” he said, strapping himself into his jump seat just as the hyperdrive reached 100% saturation. General Kukk’uk was already in place and ready to fire the drive.

  The other Cir’u’non were strapped to the roof. Clay Coffee sat next to him, his knuckles white as they gripped the armrests. The Chameleot vanished and reappeared, where he was secured to another seat.

  Dacre scanned the viewscreens as Kukk’uk clicked the countdown. 3…2…

  “Wait,” Dacre said, spotting something on one of the screens. There was something…

  The radar beeped out a warning as a blip appeared, moving fast toward them.

  Her, Dacre knew.

  “They’ve followed our fuel signature,” Coffee said. “We’ve got to make the jump. Now!”

  “A starship that size will be able to detect a hyperdrive signature for several minutes afterwards.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, time is on our side.”

  Still, Dacre hesitated. The strangest urge came over him. To do nothing. To let her catch him. To give in. To give up. He knew what the feeling was and how to handle it. He took a deep breath and the moment passed. And then he said, “Hyperspeed. Go!”

  Kukk’uk efficiently maneuvered the ship into position and fired the drive. The world began to blur.

  ~~~

  “There!” Vee shouted, though Frank had already spotted the floundering star-rig. It was drifting aimlessly, which meant one of two things: One, Terry had damaged the rig so badly it couldn’t fire any of its engines; or two, it was preparing to jump into hyperspace.

  The rig blurred, and Vee knew it was the latter. Crap, crap, crap! If it made the jump they might never find it. Depending on the coordinates input into the drive, it could enter any one of six hypertubes that connected with this star system, and they would have no way of knowing which one. Unless…

  “Layla, can we track their drive signature?”

  Damn straight. It’s a tricky process, though. Gotta get up close and personal within six-point-oh-five minutes.

  “Do it,” she said to Frank.

  “I’ll try,” the cat said. He was almost back to his normal feline self, the effects of the catnip finally wearing off.

  With a deft twist of the ropes, the starship leapt forward, accelerating faster and faster. “Time to target?” Frank asked.

  T-minus eight-point-oh-five-five minutes, Layla said.

  “Faster, Frank!” Vee said.

  The star-rig was almost gone now, the entire vessel blurry and shaking as it prepared to make the leap into one of the hypertubes. And then it was

  Gone.

  A long trail of light was left in its wake as it departed the star system. Then even that began to fade into the darkness of space, leaving only the drifting haze of burnt hyperdrive fuel behind.

  T-minus six-point-three-three, the A.I. said.

  The starship began to shake, rumbling like it was grounded during an earthquake. And yet they were still going too slow. “Frank-k-k-k?” Vee said, her teeth chattering.

  The cat clung to the control ropes, his furry face a mask of determination. He yanked one of them harder and Vee would’ve been thrown from her seat if not for the harness, which bit into her shoulders.

  The ship began to groan as it shook. Several fixtures tore loose from the wall, sliding and juddering across the floor before crashing into the opposite side. One of the viewscreens cracked, a jagged scar running from corner to corner, causing shards of black to interrupt the images.

  T-minus three-point—

  The A.I.’s voice was obliterated by a powerful whump and an even harder shake, like some gigantic monster had decided they were its toy. “D-d-don’t wah-wah-worry,” Frank said, glancing back with a maniacal grin. “It-t-t wah-wah-was just the l-l-landing gear.”

  “F-F-Frank!” Vee shouted over several crashes that echoed from the rear of the craft. “We’re going to break in h-h-half!”

  “I know th-th-
this ship-p-p,” Frank said. “She can t-t-take it!” He jerked even harder on the control ropes.

  T-minus-one-point—

  “Oh, shut up!” Frank roared, switching off the PA system.

  “This is m-m-madness,” Miranda shouted, gripping her armrests so hard Vee thought she might leave handprints.

  “Yes, it is,” Minnow said. “I l-l-like it.” The large man had followed Vee to the control room still dragging IV tubes and bags of vital fluids behind him, his white, flowing gown open at the rear. He’d barely managed to strap in before they’d begun the chase. McGee was there too, tethered to one of the mage seats.

  Vee didn’t know whether Frank was right about the ship or not, but she knew it was a risk she had to take. Losing Dacre now might mean the end of everything. The end of her daughter before she’d even had the chance to tell her the truth.

  So she gritted her teeth and watched the hyperfuel haze shimmer in the void. Bit by bit, the haze began to clear, the energy expended. Gone with the haze was the signature that could lead them right to their quarry.

  Frank switched the speakers back on. How rude, Layla said. How would ya like a piece of tape over yer mouth?

  “T-t-time?” Frank gasped, the control ropes tossing him about like a ship captain in a storm.

  T-minus three seconds, two, one…

  “C-C-Capture hyp-p-per signature,” Frank said, the ship already slowing, seeming to suck the air from Vee’s lungs. Slowly, the shaking subsided, though various objects that had torn loose rolled around at her feet.

  “Did we make it?” Vee asked.

  Processing…hyperfuel signature collected…

  “Yes,” Vee said.

  “Wait,” said Frank.

  Amount below minimum required for signature detection.

  “Dammit!” Vee shouted, pounding the armrest with the heel of her hand.

  Standby… Layla said. Additional units acquired. Sufficient for analysis. Standby…signature detected. Coordinates determined. The target has hyperjumped into hypertube fourteen-g.