The Academy

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The Academy Page 20

by Vincent Trigili


  “Look at the power around him. He is not foolishly rushing out, that is certain,” said the red-hooded magus.

  As he said that the scene in the pool shifted to focus directly on Shadow. He was surrounded by a multicolored glow that fitted closely around him like an outer skin. In a crowd of people with no such radiance, he stood out like the splash of a rainbow in a black-and-white painting.

  “What might this signify?” asked another.

  “He may be on a fool’s mission, but he is no fool. Something deeper is afoot,” said the red-hooded magus.

  “Then perhaps we should begin to show our hand,” said another.

  “No, not yet. The pieces are not yet in place for us,” said the red-hooded magus.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  The trip to the trade hub was uneventful, and the process of disembarking from the shuttle went smoothly. Soon I was free to explore the station and, more importantly, find a ride to Aleeryon’s capital planet; this was Flame’s homeworld, known as Aleeryon Prime. This would be the hardest part since civilian travel had all but dried up due to the threat from pirates.

  I did not want to risk contacting any of my navy buddies, because if Bill became aware of the situation he would surely overreact in a grand way and destroy my plan. I had to find another way.

  I decided my best bet would be to head over to the shipping bays and see who was coming and going. I might be able to book space on a cargo vessel that was making the trip. The massive trade ships could make the trip in one jump, and I was guessing that by now they would have started renting out space to smaller traders to carry goods for them. If that was the case, they might be taking passengers too, or at least they might for the right price.

  When I arrived at the shipping bays I was disappointed to see that there were no large trade ships in port at present. There were, however, a large variety of smaller ships coming and going on a fairly constant basis.

  I ducked down a corridor and quickly removed my robes, stowing them in my pack, so that I would not draw attention to myself. The old navy armor that I had put on underneath would fit right in among what was sure to be a rough crowd.

  Once changed, I entered the shipping bay and started talking to people at random, asking questions about where they were going, what they were hauling and the like. It was fairly normal behavior for this kind of station. Various crews spent long periods in space and were often alone in their positions. This created a desire to socialize at all the ports along their route and worked to my advantage.

  At first I had to bluff my way through conversations, but as I talked to more of them I picked up on the common terminology and language they shared. For most of them this was a refueling stop only, but some had come to set up shop. It was easy to see that such a massive and well-defended station would soon become a major commerce center. This led some more adventurous types to move in now to get a jump on the competition.

  I spent several days talking and working the crowd until I found what I was looking for. I found it in an older merchant with a badly-scarred face. He had several small, light and fast craft that showed signs of a recent battle.

  “Yeah, I plan to make the run to Aleeryon Prime. Why do you ask?” said the merchant.

  “I am trying to get there and was hoping to hitch a ride,” I said.

  “Well then, keep looking. We don’t take passengers,” he said.

  “I would not presume to be taken as a passenger. I am an experienced fighter pilot; I can work for my space,” I said. I had already learned from the dock attendant that he was short of a fighter pilot but did not plan to replace him until he got back to Aleeryon Prime.

  “It’s the most dangerous run in the sector, especially for a fighter pilot. Why would you want to take it?” he asked.

  “I need to get to Prime, and you need a pilot. Does any more really need to be said?” I asked.

  He paused to think about my response. I knew he had to be carrying something special, possibly illegal, in his cargo to risk making these runs. He was attacked on the way here, and no doubt he expected to be attacked on the way back. The only reason to make the run under those conditions was if the reward outweighed the danger.

  “Pilot, you say?” he asked.

  “Yes, first class, retired Imperial Navy,” I said.

  “Impressive if true. How do I know you’re for real?”

  “Simple: if I fly out and get killed, you know I was lying. If I win my fights instead, then you know I am telling the truth,” I said.

  “That may be, but then I gamble a good fighter on you,” he said.

  “I will provide a deposit, then; half the cost of the fighter, to be returned to me on arrival at Aleeryon Prime,” I said. That was a serious amount of money, but surely a foolish hero would not be worried about such details. I was thinking that I could learn to like playing this part.

  “That’s a bold gamble,” he said.

  “Not much of a gamble, since I am what I say I am,” I replied. Of course it was a huge gamble: I had no guarantee he would not arrange for my death en route to keep my deposit. “You need a fighter pilot, I need passage. It is a perfect match.”

  “Yeah, it seems that way,” he said. “Fine. We launch at 0100. Make sure you’re ready or we leave you behind and keep your money.”

  “It’s a deal,” I said and arranged for the money to be transferred to an escrow service. This would give a small level of protection to the deal.

  I left the bay to get some rest, wondering again about the wisdom of my plan. I could have easily reached Aleeryon Prime via magical means, but that would have meant abandoning my cover story of sneaking away to be a hero. Instead, I would be risking my life defending a trade ship that very likely had illegal cargo on board, and Flame would have been a prisoner for at least a week by the time I even arrived on Aleeryon Prime. As time passed, it was getting harder to see it as a wise choice.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  My alarm woke me a few hours before the merchant had planned to leave. This gave me plenty of time to check out my fighter. My orders had come in while I was sleeping, so I knew where to find the fighter but I did not know what kind of craft I was flying.

  When I arrived in the launch bay, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself assigned to a Peregrine Mark II interceptor. If Master Mathorn were here, he would no doubt tell me that this day the weave had smiled on me. My certification was in this very ship type, though it looked like they had made substantial modifications to it.

  I had exaggerated my experience to the merchant. I had flown a lot of simulations and done my share of competition fights, but very little real combat. Most of my time in the Navy was spent on the bridge, at my intelligence gathering and processing station. Still, I was confident that I had enough experience and training for this flight since I would be one fighter among a squad of experienced warriors. Pirates, in my experience, did not tend to be very skilled pilots.

  The Peregrine I was assigned to had two extra mini pulsar cannons in addition to the four it was normally manufactured with. It also had a mini bomb launcher and a few other surplus weapons. This was not good. They completely missed the strongpoint of this craft. All these weapons and ammo would add to the inertial mass and lower the speed and maneuverability of the vessel. These weapons must also put a big strain on the power plants.

  As I was examining the craft, a Zalionian walked up to me and said, “You must be the new pilot.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “I am Petrith, the wing commander,” he said, standing to his full height, which easily dwarfed me.

  “I am Shadow, sir,” I said.

  “Ever flown one of these?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir, but not one with such unusual modifications,” I said.

  “You do not approve?” he growled.

  “Sir, the primary strength of this class of craft is in its speed and maneuverability. These additions might give her
more firepower, but they will slow her down probably at least fifteen or twenty percent and cut her range by at least twenty percent.” I figured he was probably testing me to see if I knew what I was talking about.

  “Strip them off then and stow them on the cruiser, and we will see how you compare out there,” he said and stomped off. Apparently that was the wrong answer.

  I checked the time: ninety minutes until launch. That should be enough time to do the refit. I had no intention of dying out there, so I wanted to get the Peregrine up to its full potential.

  Once I had all the modifications stripped off I powered her up, and she purred beautifully. I could tell she had been painstakingly maintained. With the computers up I saw that they had increased the power plant substantially, probably to compensate for the weapons draw. That was very good; with the ship returned to its lightened state I should be able to push her to record-breaking speeds.

  While in the cockpit doing my preflight I pulled up the ship’s logs. I was surprised to see them intact. I examined them and found the last flight the ship had been in. It was three days earlier at the last jump point before this station. There they had faced an attack by destroyer-class craft, and they were heavily outnumbered and outgunned. They apparently decided a full-speed charge to the jump point was the best plan and rushed the enemy lines. It was a bold move and it cost them a pilot, but it had worked.

  Reading further back in the logs, I realized they had only Peregrine fighters in their group, which explained the desire to pump up their firepower. They were trying to make the one ship play two roles. Based on the log reports, it seemed they had been largely successful at this, but that was mainly due to the fact that most of the pirates were in larger craft and the merchant’s fighter group used the mini bombs pretty extensively against them.

  I selected a prior fight to examine in more detail and saw that they used a basic swarm pattern for their attacks. That was the classic Peregrine attack and where they really excelled. They could out-maneuver most other crafts’ ability to target and shoot them while continuing to pick away at their defenses. In the hands of a true master pilot, they could take down a much larger craft without the target even getting a lock on them.

  After reading the logs, I quickly put the mini bomb launcher back on with as many bombs as I could fit as a trade-off. Once I was sure it was secured properly, I hopped into the cockpit and saw that they were just about ready to launch. I pulled on my helmet, locked my controls to the squad leader’s, and called, “Shadow ready.”

  Shortly after that I felt a jolt as the fighter was lifted into the launch tubes of the station. I felt a little like a missile coming out of a turret as I was thrown back in my seat by the acceleration of the launch.

  Chapter Fifty

  “Good morning, Phoenix. How are you feeling?” asked Headmaster Rannor.

  “Like I just got run over by a herd of cattle,” I said. I looked around the room and realized I was in the medical section of the Academy. I was wondering what I was doing there when my memories came flooding back.

  “Headmaster, sorcerers!” I said.

  “Yes, they got away,” he said. “Shadow reached the fight in time to save you, but not in time to catch them.”

  “Too bad,” I groaned. “So is there anything to eat around here?”

  Headmaster Rannor just laughed at that and gestured to a nurse. In a short while I had a small, bland-looking meal before me.

  “You need to take food in small quantities for a bit, but I think in a couple of days you should be your normal self again,” he said. “Grandmaster Vydor would like to speak with you about what happened when you are feeling up to it.”

  I tried to sit up to eat, and my world just swam around me. “Ugh! My head feels huge, like it’s under water in a balloon filled with marshmallow goop,” I said.

  Headmaster Rannor smiled broadly at that and said, “Well, I think I can safely say no one has ever described their symptoms quite that way before. Here, let me raise your head so you can eat.” He pressed a button on the railing on the side of my bed, which lifted my head for me.

  “Thanks, Headmaster,” I said as I tried to dig in to the food. It tasted worse than it looked, but it was food and I was hungry. Headmaster Rannor quizzed me more on my symptoms and then instructed me to rest for a bit, which I was glad to do.

  When I awoke next I was alone but felt much better. I used the controls on the bed that I’d seen Headmaster Rannor operate to sit myself up, and eventually I figured out how to turn on the terminal. I placed a call to Shadow, but he didn’t answer. Next I tried to call Flame, but she didn’t reply either. Odd; usually I could reach at least one of them. Before I could think of someone else to call, Headmaster Rannor walked in with Grandmaster Vydor.

  “Hello, Phoenix,” said Grandmaster Vydor.

  “Hello, Grandmaster,” I said. I didn’t know how to react to a visit from him. I thought I should at least stand, so I started to get up but the headmaster stopped me.

  “No need to rise, but if you are well enough I would like to hear what happened in the hall with the sorcerers,” said Grandmaster Vydor.

  “Sure, Grandmaster,” I said. I filled him in on everything I could remember.

  “Thank you, Phoenix, that provided a few missing details for us. Do you remember seeing these prospects before?” he asked.

  “No, Grandmaster, but I really don’t see many prospects. Between my classes and tutoring, I stay pretty busy,” I said.

  After that and some kind parting words he left, but before Headmaster Rannor could follow I stopped him and asked, “Say, Headmaster, have you heard from Shadow? I can’t reach him or Flame and I’d like to thank him.”

  He turned around and pulled up a chair and then said, “Phoenix, understand things always happen for a reason, even if we do not know why at the time … ”

  “Is Shadow hurt?” I interrupted anxiously.

  “No. When we last had contact with him he was very well, but Flame has been taken captive by the sorcerers,” he responded.

  “WHAT?” was all I managed to say, and I’m not sure I said it all that clearly.

  I started throwing off my blankets and was planning to jump out of the bed when Headmaster Rannor, who was much stronger than he looked, grabbed my shoulder to stop me. He said, “You need to stay here and heal. You will be no good to anyone if you run off in your present condition.”

  “But, Flame is in trouble!” I said.

  “Yes, and we are searching for her now. That is why Grandmaster Vydor was here asking you questions in person,” he said.

  “And Shadow?” I asked. I knew there was no way he was just sitting around waiting for someone else to do something.

  “Shadow is on his way to Flame’s parents’ place to protect them, while the elite and master wizards conduct a search,” he said. “Now you just rest here, and in a little while a nurse will bring you some breakfast. In a day or so you should be well enough to return to your classes.”

  Maybe, but I didn’t think I’d be going to them. Flame was in real trouble, and it was my fault. Had I not turned back and run into that group of sorcerers again, she would’ve been hiking safely with Shadow. “Yes, Headmaster,” I replied. At least lying there healing would give me time to formulate a plan.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  “Everyone, we have a new pilot with us. He goes by the name of Shadow,” I heard Petrith’s voice say over the comm “Assuming he makes it alive to our destination, I will introduce everyone to him then.”

  As my fighter cleared the station, I could not help but think about Flame. I had not received any telepathic messages from her, so either they were blocking that or they were keeping her unconscious. I hoped that they were keeping her asleep or, preferably, in a stasis pod. That would at least reduce the trauma of being kept prisoner.

  A few welcomes came over the comm, and then Petrith said, “Our intelligence reports tell us there is a bloc
kade set up to catch us at our first jump exit. It sounds like the typical pirate fleet of destroyers, larger cruisers and possibly a drone ship. We can easily run the blockade; our only concern will be that drone ship if it is there. When we clear the jump, I want everyone to stick close to Mother Goose. If there is a drone ship, Shadow, Ben and Karrith will break off and take out the drones. We will call you Red Wing for this. The rest of us will head for the drone ship and take it out while Mother Goose burns hard and fast for the jump point.”

  I assumed that “Mother Goose” referred to the cruiser that we were escorting. As my fighter was still under fleet control there was not much to do until the jump exit. I examined our flight group and saw that most of the fighters in the group matched the specifications of my Peregrine before my refit, that is, except those flown by Ben and Karrith; they appeared to be in completely unmodified Peregrines. I did not recall seeing them mentioned in the logs, so I assumed they were also new pilots to the flight.

  The jump would be completely automated with our ships’ drives linked up. Our flight had too little mass to make anything resembling a long jump, so it would take several jumps to make the trip. Once we came out of the jump, the ships’ computers would control the vessels until the pilots had recovered from the post-jump hangover.

  “Jumping in three, two, one … ” came the call over the comm just before we entered jump space. I had traveled there many times under my own power now, and as we came out I had no post-jump effects. It was as if I had become accustomed to the trip.

  As we came out of the jump I looked around and saw the blockade. It would be a nasty surprise for any medium or larger-sized fleet that dropped into the middle of it. I saw several massive destroyers, a carrier and even a battleship.

  I waited until the other pilots showed signs of being coherent and then said, “Red Wing, I do not see a drone ship, but I believe that battleship has its share of drones; stand by,”

 

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