Looking through Master Raquel’s eyes, I could see that the cyborgs were mostly Class Three tech; far inferior to what I used to be, but deadly enough. Had I still been Lyshell the cyborg, I could have ripped them limb from limb faster than their processors could have responded. As I was now a crippled primitive, they would have speed and strength advantages.
“Those would be drones. Very little cognitive power, but what they do have is focused on killing,” I sent.
“Slip by unseen, then?” asked Ramsong.
“No, that will take too long. I’ll rush their position. When I’ve distracted them, finish them off quickly. We don’t want to reveal that we’re wizards, if it can be helped,” I sent.
I slipped around the corner, being careful to make no sound. They couldn’t see me, but they would be able to hear me or detect a breeze if I moved too fast. “Okay, get ready,” I sent.
Remembering all the lessons Lythiran had taught me, I sprang fast from where I’d been standing in front of them and slammed my shoulder into the one on the left. The drone, completely unprepared for my attack, fell forward over my shoulder as I’d planned. I stood up rapidly, lifting his legs over my head, and for a moment he completely covered my back. In that moment his partner opened fire, and the space around me glowed so brightly that I was blinded. Instinctively, I dove to the floor and rolled away from the shooter. The drone I had sent over my back took most of the hits from his partner and collapsed to the floor with multiple blaster wounds.
I quickly rolled onto my side and prepared to spring out of the way, but as I did several ice bolts flew through the air and smashed into the back of the drone’s head. The force of the blows shattered its metallic head and it fell forward, lifeless.
“Well, they are now aware of our presence,” sent Master Raquel.
Think, Lyshell! What do you know? No combat along the secondary paths. Primitives streaming away from the center, seemingly unharmed. No patrols. One rear guard along a corridor that feeds the main routes to Central Computing. No announcements over the loudspeakers. All ship functions appeared to be working, even life support.
“Of course! It’s a core drive!” I sent unintentionally over our telepathic network.
“What does that mean?” asked Master Raquel.
Mentally I pulled the map back up and sketched out a path of attack. “Okay, they’re likely to be attacking along this side, so we should make our approach on the opposite side.”
“Why would they leave one whole side exposed?” asked Ramsong.
“They don’t care about killing the primitives; they only want control of the primary computer, so they’re leaving the primitives an escape route,” I sent.
“People tend to be much more difficult to deal with if they are backed into a corner, so the cyborgs are giving them a means of escape,” sent Master Raquel.
“Exactly, they’re happy to let all the primitives jump ship. Cyborgs wish to optimize their resources, and letting the primitives escape means they don’t have to hunt them down and waste resources killing them,” I sent.
Master Raquel took the lead again and we pushed on. I didn’t have enough information yet to be sure of my predictions of enemy movements, but something in my gut told me I was right. It was almost as if I could sense their plans; no, more as if I could hear them, though not completely. I had whispered hints of what they were doing.
As we ran, I tried to focus on that feeling and connected. My mind suddenly filled with battle plans, troop movements and images flying faster than I could process them.
“Identify yourself,” came a voice in my head.
I could feel them trying to read me through the connection, and in a fit of panic I screamed and fell to my knees. The connection I’d had was lost but the feeling was still there, just at the edge.
Everything around me was scrambled and broken. Fragmented data flew in all directions.
“What’s wrong?” sent Ramsong.
I shook my head, trying to organize the memories I’d picked up during that brief connection. Slowly they started to fall into place.
“Sir, are you okay?” asked Ramsong.
I looked up and saw him standing over me. The world slowly slipped back into place around me and I gasped, choking, as I realized I wasn’t breathing.
“Get him some water!” sent Ramsong.
Master Raquel appeared and knelt in front of me. “Lyshell,” she said quietly.
A canteen appeared, and I took it and drank thirstily. Handing it back, I sent, “For a moment there I was connected to them.”
“What do you mean?” sent Master Raquel.
“The cyborgs have started their attack on the computer core. They believe they will break through the defenders in eight minutes – no, seven now,” I sent.
Master Raquel jumped to her feet. “Quickly now, move!”
Ramsong helped me up, and we threw stealth to the wind and sprinted to the computer core.
51
05-14-0067 — Lyshell
As we closed in on the rear entrance to Central Computing, Ramsong stopped us and sent, “We are likely to get shot if we break in their back door.”
“True,” sent Master Raquel.
I focused on the door and sent, “Stones, my man? Are you out there?”
“Lyshell!” he replied.
“We’re at your back door; care to let us in?” I sent an image of the corridor and door. We had at most two minutes, according to the cyborgs’ estimate. A shiver went down my spine as I remembered that experience. I could still feel them out there, just on the edge of my perception. I didn’t think they could see me, but I could feel them closing in on Central Computing.
Moments later, the door was opened by a badly-wounded Zalionian. He was using the door for support as he held it open for us. They must be hard-pressed if they sent someone so badly hurt to open a door.
“Ramsong, deploy and assist!” I sent. He was far better suited to take control of the defense than I, so I got out of his way.
He sprinted for the door, calling out telepathic orders as he went. I followed his team through the door into the room. The defenders had built barricades and fortified the entrance to Central Computing. There must have been a fight here already, because the blast doors were hanging at an angle and had large holes burned through them.
The guards were squatting behind the barricades, pointing their weapons down the hall. The tension in the room was almost palpable. They must be thinking the same thing I was, that the cyborgs would soon be here and would undoubtedly overwhelm their position - or would have, had we not arrived.
Silence filled the room as everyone waited for the inevitable attack. The feeling at the edge of my awareness grew more vivid. I could almost see them, just around the bend, forming up for their assault.
“Any second now,” I sent to the Battle Wizards.
Not two breaths later, they came around the corner with their weapons at the ready. The moment they had a clear shot, they started firing.
“Firewalls, mage bolts, now!” sent Ramsong. Soon magic erupted from the room like a tidal wave and slammed into the attackers’ position. Ice, stone, fire and electricity filled the short distance between the defenders and the attackers, forcing the cyborgs to fall back and find cover.
In my head, I could feel the shock and confusion that the Cyborg Nation must have felt. There were no magi on board. How could we be losing this assault? We must focus our fire on the magi. Ignore the primitives. Heat maps of the defenders’… NO! A quiver passed through my body as I pulled my mind back from the brink of merging with the Cyborg Nation.
I shook my head forcibly, hard enough to see stars, and forced myself to look away from the fight. “Stones?”
“Here,” he replied.
He was with the wounded, propped up against the wall and cradling an assault rifle. Kneeling down next to him, I asked, “What are you doing with that toy?”
“Standard protocol is to blend in and not let
anyone know you’re a wizard,” he said.
His voice was weak and strained, his face pale, and it looked like he was struggling to stay conscious. His right leg was covered in blood-soaked bandages. Judging by the red pool under his leg and his complexion, he had already lost a lot of blood. The bandages appeared to be preventing the remaining blood from escaping his body, but only just.
“You look like rot,” I said. I pulled out one of the potions that Master Raquel had told me to keep on hand at all times. “I’m not sure how to use this.”
“Pour about half directly on the leg wound, and give me the rest to drink,” he said.
Bracing myself for what I was about to see, I pulled back his bandages and slowly began to pour the liquid out of the bottle. When it touched the wound, it foamed up briefly and covered it. As the bubbles faded away, the wound stopped bleeding and the flesh grew back to cover the hole in his leg. It was like watching a time-lapse video in medical school. The skin, bone and muscle had just grown back, not completely but enough to change the wound from life-threatening to merely serious.
After pouring half the potion on his leg, I helped him drink the rest. Color returned to his face in a flush, his breathing eased and the leg continued to heal, though its recovery rate had slowed.
“I don’t think I’ll ever take that stuff for granted. It’s amazing,” he commented. His voice was much stronger, and his eyes seemed to be focusing again. He gestured to the number two on my armor. “Jumping the line again?”
“I’ll explain later, but right now I want to see how the fight is going. Can you walk?” I asked.
“Yes, sir,” he said with a mock salute.
“Good. Stow those toys and come with me.”
He stood and tested the wounded leg. “Still sore and weak, but I’ll manage.”
Master Raquel came over with one of the guards. “The cyborgs are in full retreat.”
“They will gather all their drones for a concentrated attack on Engineering,” I said. My mind was overflowing with the Cyborgs’ plans, but I could only understand bits and pieces. They were sent to attack this ship, but no matter how I tried to approach the information, I couldn’t make sense of the why.
Master Raquel looked at the guard and asked, “What is the status down there?”
“It’s secure. I have a full squad dug in, and all the blast doors are secure,” he said.
I shook my head. “It’ll be a massacre.” The cyborgs already knew the defenses down there; they had tapped the ship’s internal camera array. They would outnumber the defenders four to one, and they were faster, stronger and better equipped.
“Battle wizards, form up!” snapped Master Raquel. “Show me Engineering.”
The guard brought up the internal video feed from Engineering. “There: as you can see, it’s secure.”
“How long would it take to get there?” I asked.
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes at a healthy jog,” he said.
“Cyborgs are much faster than us, so that means five to seven minutes for them,” I said.
Master Raquel sighed deeply. “Battle Wizards, tighten up your ranks as close together as you can manage. That includes you, Stones. Everyone else, stay back.”
“What are you going to do?” asked the guard as he fell back.
“Fold space,” she said and began to cast.
At first nothing seemed to happen, then a mule kicked me in the gut, knocking all the wind out of my lungs, and lights danced around me. Inhaling sharply, I tried to make sense of what had happened. A room was swirling around me; as it slowed and stopped, I felt dizzy. What I was seeing was incredible; I was not in Central Computing anymore.
“Ramsong, deploy and support the troops at the door,” sent Master Raquel.
“Whoa,” I said as I looked around. We were in Engineering. How had that happened? What had she meant by ‘folding space’?
“Who is in charge around here?” asked Master Raquel.
“I am,” replied a deep female voice.
“Show me the exterior cameras. How much time before the cyborgs arrive?” I asked.
She hesitated but then pulled up the video feed. “Looks like we have a couple minutes, at least.”
“Open the blast doors!” I ordered as I remembered the cyborgs’ plan.
“What? Are you crazy?” she asked, but Stones was near a panel and pressed the button, sending the doors sliding up.
“Ramsong, see what you can do about jamming them open!” I called out.
The female guard went for the control panel, but Stones moved in front of it. To be sure no one interfered, I cast a small shield over the panel.
“Look, the cyborgs have already infiltrated your ship’s computers, making those doors a liability. We can stop their charge, but you have to follow our orders. There simply isn’t time for explanations,” I said.
“This is my post,” she began, but stopped as Master Raquel raised her hand and caused a green ball of energy to appear. The woman swallowed nervously and asked, “What’s that?”
“We are wizards; we will rescue this ship, but right now I need a datapad,” I said.
She handed me one without taking her eyes off the green ball of energy. The ball seemed to pulsate, and different shades of green passed by. Master Raquel let it float, spinning slowly over her outstretched hand. I didn’t recognize the spell, but the female commander seemed to be enamored; she couldn’t tear her gaze from it.
“How much time do I have left?” I asked.
“A minute at most,” said Stones.
I sat down, placed my hand on the tablet and focused on that feeling, that ever-so-fleeting connection between me and the cyborgs. Once I was sure I had reopened the connection, I focused my thoughts into the pad and said, “Cyborg Nation, this is Battle Wizard Lyshell. We are ordering your withdrawal from this vessel.”
“Primitives do not give orders,” came in the distinctly synthetic voice of the datapad. With it came images, numbers, symbols and all manner of data, assaulting my mind through the connection. The datapad was recording everything, so I would keep it to review later. There might be nothing useful in it, but data flowed freely on cyborg networks as all minds were linked to think as one. We might get lucky.
“I am Second Rank Battle Wizard Lyshell of the Wizard Kingdom. You will withdraw, or you will be destroyed.”
I so wanted them to refuse to retreat. They would pay for what they had done to Joan. I wanted to make them suffer, but I knew this was not the place. These were just drones; striking them down would not accomplish my goal. It would be better to strike a blow at the hive mind. I didn’t yet know how, but I would find a way. They would pay, pay dearly.
“Firewalls, now! Fill the corridor. Gia, when the firewalls are moving, follow them with boulders,” sent Ramsong.
There was a long silence, then I could hear boulders tumbling down the corridor. I watched through the telepathic network as the boulders hidden by the walls of fire slammed into the ranks of drones marching towards us and devastated their front line.
“Smashers, now,” sent Ramsong.
Several large, bipedal walking statues appeared and moved towards the cyborg position. The cyborgs opened fired on the smashers, but their blaster fire didn’t harm the creatures at all.
“The longer you delay, the higher your losses. You’re outmatched, and this is your final chance to retreat,” I said, projecting through the datapad. Data continued to flow into my mind at an overwhelming rate. I struggled under the flow, trying desperately to keep my sanity. If I still had my implants, I could have processed the data as it came in, but I was broken; incomplete. They could help me get better. They wanted to help me be whole again. They were my family; they understood me.
“Why permit us to retreat?” asked the voice.
“We are wizards; that is reason enough,” I said, forcing myself to remember why I was here. People’s lives were at stake; they were depending on me to save them. I had to focus on th
at.
“Get ready with chain lightning,” sent Ramsong.
The smashers were beating the cyborgs mercilessly, but the cyborgs had worked out that it was more effective to use blunt, physical attacks instead of their energy-based blasters and were slowly whittling away at the smashers. I predicted that when they fell, Ramsong would order chain lightning to be released.
An image came through the connection: it was myself, with a wizard’s staff and many wizards under me. I was decked out in full battle armor and looked magnificent. The armor bore the logo of the Cyborg Nation. I radiated immense power. I could be whole again. They would ensure I kept my spells and became whole.
Then Joan’s face came to my mind. She was weeping over something … no, someone … me.
No! I screamed mentally and ripped the power supply out of the datapad, cutting the connection. A long moment passed, during which I could still feel them reaching out to me. They were more distant now, but the allure was still there.
“They’re retreating!” came an unfamiliar voice.
It was true. The presence was slowly retreating from me. Just before it left completely, it sent this message: “We will find you again. You are one of us, you belong with us and we will welcome you back into the family.”
52
05-14-0067 — Greymere
“Everyone ready?” asked Master Dusty.
“No, but that’s never stopped me before,” I said.
I was not looking forward to returning to the Spirit Realm, but Kymberly and Jade were ready for their first visit and I needed to learn more about the accursed place. It was the only way to help Saraphym. The thought of bringing her to that realm made my stomach bunch up in knots. I could well lose her there.
Saraphym wasn’t ready, not by a long shot. She was still so confused about what she was. Sometimes when we were out in space she would drift away from me and lose herself. It took a lot of effort to bring her back. She described the sensation as being in a light sleep where she could still perceive the world around her, but at a distance.
Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8) Page 26
