Wizard Omega (Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles Book 4)

by Rodney Hartman

  The duke paced the room a couple of times.

  “I have no one to blame but myself for today’s fiasco,” said the duke as he turned and pounded his fist on a nearby desk. “But by the Creator, heads will roll if it happens again.”

  Pointing his finger at Colonel Santos, Duke Bistoria said, “Can you or can you not take orders from Wizard Scout Shepard?”

  “Uh, orders, sir?” said the colonel sounding confused. “But…, he’s not one of us. He’s a wizard scout. He doesn’t even have a rank. Uh…, sir.”

  The duke spun on his heel and pointed at Richard. “As of this moment, you are promoted to the rank of brigadier general in the Trecorian Army. For the next five and a half months, I expect you to conduct yourself as such.”

  Spinning back to Colonel Santos, the duke said, “Now, these little turf wars end here and now. You will give General Shepard your full cooperation, or so help me I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir!” said Colonel Santos hitting a stiff brace.

  Turning back to Richard, the duke said, “And don’t for one minute think I hold you blameless for what happened here today. I don’t believe you thought I brought you here to be trained as a normal cat pilot. You should’ve contacted me before now if things weren’t going the way you thought they should.”

  As he spoke, the duke’s voice took on a heated emotion which was a cross between anger and pleading. “The continued existence of Trecor and your Empire may well depend on what we do here. Wizard Scout Shatstot told me you were the best. Now prove it.”

  “Yes, sir,” was all Richard could think to say as he hit the stiff brace he hadn’t used since he’d left the Academy.

  If Richard thought the duke was finished, he was wrong. Turning to the two admirals, Duke Bistoria said, “Can I expect the Navy to give their full cooperation to General Shepard? Or do I need to promote him to fleet admiral as well?”

  “I have nothing but respect for wizard scouts,” said Admiral Donovan. He looked directly at Richard. “If there’s anything you need where I can help, just let me know. Liz would never forgive me if she thought I wasn’t giving you my full support.”

  “And you, Admiral Formida?” asked the duke.

  “Of course, sir. Wizard… uh… General Shepard can expect the full cooperation of my staff and me.”

  “Good,” said the duke. “Then we all understand each other.”

  Facing Richard, the duke said, “General Shepard. I’ll give you another three weeks. If I’m satisfied with your progress at that time, I’ll provide you with the information requested by your Imperial High Council.”

  Without another word, Duke Bistoria turned and left.

  After the duke departed, Admiral Donovan turned to Richard. “On the surface, it sounds as if the duke has given you an impossible task, general. I hope you’re as good as Liz thinks you are.”

  After a short pause, Admiral Donovan gave Richard a sympathetic smile. “So…, what are your orders, general?”

  For once, Richard wasn’t at a loss for words. He’d been the unofficial trainer for his cohort at the Academy. Since viewing that first bongo game, he’d been kicking some ideas around in his head. After his talk with Terrie the previous night, Richard had spent a lot of time thinking about what would be needed to train the Trecorians in how to better use their Power. Richard knew his plan would be better if his battle computer was here to help, but he wasn’t. So, he’d just have to do the best he could on his own. However, Richard was confident he could come up with something, especially if he could get Terrie to convince his own battle computer, Taylor, to help.

  “My orders?” Richard said. “Let’s call them strong suggestions more than orders. But I do have a few ideas. Colonel Santos, I’ll need your six best cat pilots, and two of your best fighter pilots. I happen to believe a twenty to one kill ratio is a distinct possibility if we work together. That is, if you’re interested.”

  “I may be a stubborn fool, uh… general,” said Colonel Santos. “But I’m not a complete idiot. If you know how to save my soldiers’ lives, then I’m in. What do you have in mind?”

  Chapter 30 – Vindication

  _____________________________________

  Three weeks later, the control tower was devoid of any talking. All eyes watched the movement of the holographic images on a table in the center of the room. A sextant of cats composed of two Leviathans, two Long Cats, and two Warcats were advancing towards the center of the urban-training area. All six cats gave off a white glow. The holographic images of two fighters highlighted with white halos circled to the cats’ rear.

  From his seat in the control tower, Richard counted the number of orange-haloed cats advancing from the other side of the training area. The count hadn’t changed. It was still twenty-four. The 147th’s sextant was opposed by a full six quads of aggressor cats. An additional twelve orange-haloed fighters circled over the aggressor’s side of the training area.

  “I’m surprised their fighters haven’t started making strafing runs yet,” whispered Richard to Colonel Santos.

  The colonel happened to be sitting in the seat next to him.

  Responding out the side of her mouth, Colonel Santos whispered, “The 23rd Mech’s commander is no fool. She’ll suspect a trick. It’s common knowledge we’re going to be trying something new. She’s just being cautious.”

  Richard continued sitting in his seat while waiting for something to happen. He was just a spectator at this point. Duke Bistoria, Admiral Formida, and Admiral Donovan stood near the holograph table. The two admirals were whispering in the duke’s ear as they pointed at the moving holograms.

  “They’re confused because our cats are so spread out,” whispered Colonel Santos.

  “Do you think it’ll work?” Richard asked getting nervous.

  Richard preferred action to waiting. He’d never had children, but he imagined he was feeling something similar to an expectant father in a hospital waiting room.

  “Don’t go second guessing our plan now, general,” said Colonel Santos. “Commander Leander knows what she’s doing. She’s our best. If anyone can pull this off, she can.”

  The lead Warcat of the 147th’s sextant reached the designated line. The holographic images on the table blinked out for a split second before the computer system compensated for what Richard knew was a surge of electromagnetic energy from the pulse generator which had been hastily attached to the Warcat.

  “What just happened?” said the duke to a technician sitting at the control panel nearest him.

  “Uh…, I…, ah…,” stammered the technician. “I’m not quite sure, sir. I think the lead Warcat set off an electromagnetic-pulse device. The electromagnetic radiation has disrupted all sensors.”

  “Then why are we still seeing things?” asked Admiral Formida.

  A nearby major dressed in the orange jumpsuit of the technical corps came to the enlisted technician’s aid. “Our computer system is using visual data from tele-bots located throughout the training area in order to create the holographic images. We can still see, but every cat and fighter within a five kilometer radius of that pulse generator has lost their electronic sensors. They’ll only know what they can visually see until the disruption clears.”

  Before the technician could explain further, a score of missiles left each of the sextant’s Leviathans. The missiles began spreading out in all directions. When the missiles reached a height of three hundred meters, they exploded into a dense cloud of haze.

  “We can’t see,” said Admiral Formida. “Do something.”

  The major and his technician fiddled with some controls. The haze cleared.

  “We can see now,” said the technician, “but most of the exercise’s participants are in dense smoke. It looks like those were R22 military-grade smoke dispensers. Without their electronics, the cats will be basically blind. Even the fighters will be unable to see if they enter the smoked part of the training area.�
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  “Should I abort the training scenario?” asked the major.

  “Negative,” answered Duke Bistoria.

  The duke turned to look at Colonel Santos and Richard. “I’m assuming whatever you’ve got up your sleeves is safe.”

  Richard shrugged his shoulders. He wished Nickelo was here to calculate probabilities.

  “I wouldn’t have approved the plan if it wasn’t within standard-safety guidelines, sir,” said Colonel Santos.

  The worry lines on the duke’s forehead lessened, but Richard noticed they didn’t disappear completely.

  At that moment, the two fighter’s supporting the sextant dove in for strafing runs. Their course stayed steady even when they entered the dense haze.

  “How?” asked Admiral Donovan. “Their sensors should be out of commission.”

  “Passive and active scans,” Richard explained. “The pilots can ‘see’ well enough if they don’t get too fancy.”

  Two of the smaller orange-haloed cats winked out on the holograph table.

  “Our fighters are taking out the enemy scouts first,” said Colonel Santos for both the admirals’ and duke’s benefit. “General Shepard thinks their advanced electronics would be the first to recover.”

  More missiles left the sextant’s two heavy and two medium cats. The missiles tracked unerringly towards orange-haloed targets. Four more orange-haloed holographs disappeared off the table.

  “How are the missiles locating their targets?” asked the duke.

  From the confused looks on the faces of the admirals and other VIPs in the room, the duke wasn’t the only one seeking the answer to the question.

  “Bongo,” Richard said.

  The duke gave Richard a look that seemed to say, ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  “Our cat pilots are using telekinesis to guide the missiles to their targets,” Richard explained. “Sergeant Hendricks figured out a way to put receivers in the missile warheads which are sensitive to telekinesis. Both our cat and fighter pilots are basically guiding the missiles the same way bongo players guide the ball into an opponent’s net.”

  When the duke looked unconvinced, Colonel Santos spoke up. “He’s correct, sir. As long as our pilots can sense their opponents with their passive and active scans, they can guide the missiles to their targets. Our heavy cats are doing most of the firing. Our two Warcats and our fighters are piloted by the regiment’s best bongo players. Those pilots are the ones guiding the missiles to the enemy cats.”

  Colonel Santos shrugged her shoulders as she waved her hand at the holograph table. “I know it sounds strange, sir, but you can see the results.”

  Half of the orange-haloed cats were no longer on the holograph table. As the duke and the two admirals stared at the table, two missiles from the 147th’s fighters shot out through the haze and struck two aggressor fighters circling outside the smoke cloud. The two orange-haloed fighters disappeared from the table.

  “You’re lucky there is very little wind today,” observed Admiral Formida. “A gale would have made your plan useless.”

  “Then we’d have done something different,” Richard said getting a little defensive. He had never liked having people criticize his plans with imaginary what if’s, especially when they didn’t provide a better alternative.

  “Well, I think–” started Admiral Formida.

  “Well, I think it’s brilliant,” cut in Admiral Donovan with a loud laugh. Turning to Richard, he asked, “How many pilots have you trained? Do you think the technique can be applied to naval vessels? What about–”

  “Gentlemen,” said the duke holding up his hands. “Let’s save the questions until we’ve had time to analyze what just happened.”

  Turning to the major, the duke said, “Stop the training scenario. I’ve seen enough.”

  Richard thought it was just as well. Only six of the orange-haloed cats and eight of their fighters remained. All of the white-haloed cats and their two fighters continued to shine brightly on the holograph table.

  “Congratulations, general, colonel,” said Duke Bistoria as he shook each of their hands. “I expect a full report by tomorrow morning. Colonel Santos, I want the 147th to take the lead on expanding this methodology into other units as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Colonel Santos. “You know you can count on the 147th.”

  “Yes, I do,” said the duke smiling. “And as for you, general, I owe you some information. The duchess is having a ball in honor of a visit by a member of the Empire’s Imperial High Council tomorrow night. You’ll get your official invitation later today. However, my wife gave me strict orders to invite you personally. You’ll come, of course?”

  “Uh, yes, sir,” Richard said.

  A ball? Richard thought. I can’t even dance. Another thought suddenly occurred to him. And what the hell am I supposed to wear?

  Chapter 31 – The Defiant Returns

  _____________________________________

  As it turned out, Richard didn’t have to worry about finding something to wear. Late that afternoon, he heard a familiar voice in his shared space.

  Rick, are you there?

  Nick, Richard replied more relieved than he cared to admit. You’re a week late.

  So we are, but who’s counting, said Nickelo. Did you miss me?

  Maybe a little, Richard grudgingly admitted. Now hush, I’ve got a lot to tell you.

  Before he started the tale of the last five weeks, Richard had a thought. By the way, where are you?

  Margery brought us out of our hyper-jump just outside Trecor’s system, said Nickelo. The Defiant should be landing at the spaceport in two hours and thirty-seven minutes.

  Good, Richard said. I need my dimensional pack. I’ve gotta go to a ball tomorrow night.

  Ooh! Aren’t we enjoying the Trecorian nightlife? said Nickelo with a laugh. The rest of us have been working our fingers to the bone trying to get the Defiant ready, and you’ve apparently been kicking back taking it easy.

  Yeah, right, said Richard. First off, you don’t have any fingers, so I’m not impressed. Now, listen up. I’ve got some things to tell you.

  For the next thirty minutes, Richard explained what he’d been doing and what he’d discovered over the last five weeks. The whole story should have taken only a few seconds to relay in their shared space. However, Nickelo insisted on having Sergeant Ron, Charlie, and Matthew hear the tale at the same time. Even feeding the battle helmet’s video and audio readouts from the others into Richard’s shared space took time. To top it off, Sergeant Ron kept interrupting him to ask questions about the black ship.

  “I don’t know, Sergeant Ron,” Richard said for the tenth time. “Maybe the duke will tell me more about it tomorrow night.”

  Richard waited a few seconds for Nickelo to relay the information to the others before he received their replies through the battle helmet’s communication array.

  In the end, Richard cut the question-and-answer session short. While he waited for the Defiant to make landfall, Richard held another training class with a dozen of Colonel Santos’ soldiers. He’d originally thought the Trecorians had a greater than normal share of people with sizeable Power reserves. As it turned out, the 147th just attracted a lot of those people. Early in his training at the 147th, Richard had come to realize it would take a significant amount of time to train enough soldiers to make a difference. He was just one man. He had other things to do. He couldn’t spend all of his time training bongo players on how to use passive and active scans.

  We need more diviners, Richard thought.

  Well, they’re pretty rare you know, said Nickelo intruding on Richard’s thoughts.

  Yeah, so I’ve been told a zillion times, Richard said. Now, stop reading my mind.

  Then stop thinking in your shared space, said Nickelo ignoring Richard’s order. But my point is valid. Diviners are rare. Only one wizard scout cadet out of a thousand is a diviner. And, only one out of eight cadets bec
ome wizard scouts. So, statistically, you may have to train 8,000 people before you find a single diviner. How many have you trained so far?

  About 1,200, Richard said. He wasn’t looking forward to training another 5,800 before he found a replacement diviner.

  Hey, look at the bright side, said Nickelo. You might have a diviner in the very next group you train.

  We can only hope, Richard said accompanying his answer with a silent prayer.

  An hour later, Richard knew there wasn’t a diviner in the new group. Colonel Santos’ soldiers were motivated. The 147th tended to attract good bongo players as well as good soldiers. For the most part, they picked up the basic skills for passive and active scans fast enough. But since none of them were diviners, they couldn’t train others themselves. The training was hard and frustrating work for Richard. By the time the Defiant landed, he was ready for a break.

  Upon his promotion to general, the duke had provided Richard with a staff car. However, Richard preferred riding a hover-cycle whenever he could. He’d had to buy one on credit, but it was worth it as far as he was concerned. When Richard got word the Defiant was on final approach, he hopped on his hover-cycle and made for the spaceport. The gate guards waved him through without questions.

  Being a general does have its perks, I guess, Richard thought.

  It has its responsibilities too, replied Nickelo in their shared space.

  I know, Richard said as he guided his hover-cycle down a taxiway to the berth assigned to the Defiant.

  When Richard parked his cycle near the Defiant’s open gangway, he gave a whistle. The Conglomerate had gone all out on the overhaul. The outside of the ship was buffed to a high shine, and even the Defiant’s name was emblazoned boldly across the bow in fresh paint.

  As Richard marveled at the changes in the Defiant’s looks, a slim figure walked down the gangplank at a quick pace. It was Matthew Deloris.