Spectra's Gambit

by Vincent Trigili

  “There, that is everything that was on the screen at the time the alarms went off,” he said.

  “May I?” I asked, taking the pad. “This will be enough for my purposes.” I put down the datapad to free my hands and chanted, “Apokalypste glossa.”

  “What is he doing?” I heard Greymere ask Saraphym.

  “He is casting a spell that will teach him the language you wrote,” she said.

  “Ah! This is a battle plan. It looks like our friends on the station were at war with the cyborgs, and the cyborgs just got the jump on them,” I said.

  “Cyborgs?” asked Greymere.

  “Yes. We found them while you were sleeping,” I said, and told him everything that had happened.

  “And we are still following this fleet?” he asked.

  “Yeah. It is the only lead we had until you two woke up,” I said.

  “Nemesis, can you show me the cyborg fleet down here?” he asked.

  “Sure, I can send it to your datapad,” he said.

  “Thanks,” said Greymere. “Yes, this is a typical battle fleet; all the ships grouped tightly around the communications hub.”

  “I boarded the communications hub hoping to learn something, but so far, nothing,” he said. “What do you know about them?”

  “Each ship will be identical in function, as will each member of the crew. That way, if any one falls, another can always take their place. It is a hive mentality, with command functions handled by a massive computer that constitutes all their brains combined,” he said.

  “Any idea why they might be in a war with whoever ran that station?” I asked.

  “None, other than the fact that they see all non-cyborg life as worthless, merely parasites to be eliminated. They hate virtually everyone,” he said.

  “I bet they’re great fun at parties,” said Spectra as she walked in.

  “Whatever they are doing out here, they are not allied to the Imperial Humans. They would hate them as much as the Imperial Humans would hate the cyborgs,” said Greymere.

  “Why so much hate?” asked Nemesis.

  “The Imperial Humans are trying to make a ‘pure’ human race that goes back in time to what they see as the golden age of human development. The cyborgs are trying to redefine life and build a new age of machines. That puts them directly in opposition to each other,” said Greymere.

  “So, what if that station was an Imperial Human outpost, and the cyborgs found out?” I asked.

  “Cyborgs might want to destroy it, especially if the Imperial Humans were planning an offensive against them, as you suggest,” he said. “The problem with that idea is that the Imperial Humans do not strike me as the kind of group that would overtly attack in that way. They would be more inclined to depend on subterfuge and betrayal to carry out their purpose.”

  What he said made sense, especially given that the language on the station was that of cyborgs and not Galactic Common, or even some obscure and forgotten human language. “If Henrick had not sent us here, I would not be so determined to find some clue that will help us. But he did, so I know there is something here that we need to see.”

  “I agree, but this one has me stumped,” said Spectra.

  “Greymere, if we board the cyborg craft is there any way to get data out of their systems without them knowing?” I asked.

  “Unlikely. Assuming you could find a terminal, it wouldn’t do you much good, as they interface directly with the hive and normally don’t have much of a computer system on their craft,” he said. “It might be better to follow up on the map and let this fleet go. Does it show any other stations?”

  I brought back the map on the datapad’s display. “Several, but this one appears to be friendly to them,” I said and pointed to a station off by itself on the map.

  “I suggest we go there, then, and see if we can find the clue we were meant to find,” Greymere said.

  I contacted Jade and told him not to follow the cyborgs through their jump but to stay with them until then. Then it occurred to me to ask, “Greymere, is there any easy way to spot an Imperial Human?”

  “The easiest way is their family history, which will always be one of men in powerful positions; but another way is their speech patterns. They tend to be very formal in their speech and rarely, if ever, use contractions,” he said.

  “Well, that points to most of the leaders in the Wizard Kingdom,” I said.

  “Except us,” said Spectra with a smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Light years away from where Dusty and his team searched for clues, a group of humans gathered in a secret location. Each of them took a seat around a long, rectangular table with oversized legs; it was made of black marble and looked as it if had been carved in place out of a single block of stone. Above the table hung a series of massive chandeliers which flickered with simulated fire. Underneath the table was a large, dark rug so faded with time that its pattern was unrecognizable. The rug covered a black marble floor showing signs of centuries of wear and tear.

  The chairs were oversized with high backs, deep red cushions, and long sweeping arms. In each chair sat a human dressed in regal clothes of various colors and design. The humans were seated in order of age, with the youngest sitting furthest from the head and the oldest at the head of the table.

  They were all quietly eating a generous meal consisting of various meats and fresh fruits. One of the younger humans said, “What are we going to do about the wizards?”

  “Nothing, Jashier. Nothing at all,” said the man at the head.

  “But they will be our undoing,” said Jashier.

  “Not at all. We already have our people spread throughout their leadership, just as we did with the Empire and nations before them,” he said.

  “You must learn patience, Jashier,” said another of the older men.

  “Patience? All we do is wait, and meanwhile the Wizard Kingdom grows stronger and more powerful,” said Jashier.

  “Yes, they will continue to grow. It looks as if they will be the dominant player as we go into this new era,” said the man at the head of the table.

  Jashier was obviously annoyed with this response and said, “Don’t you see that as a problem?”

  “No. It is as we have orchestrated,” said the man.

  “What?” asked Jashier.

  “Jashier, I know you have only been with us a short time, but you must understand that we play a long game here,” said the man at the head.

  “We foresaw the coming of the wizards centuries ago,” said another.

  “I do not understand,” he said.

  “Vydor was chosen to rise to that position before you were even born. Nothing takes us by surprise,” said the man at the head.

  “But he has placed inferior animals in his command chain,” said Jashier. “He does not hold to our beliefs.”

  “Oh, but he does. He does not realize it and probably would never admit it, but he does,” said one of the other men.

  “He has packed his leadership with the right people,” said another.

  “What about Dusty?” asked Jashier.

  “Dusty and Spectra were an unfortunate mistake on his part. We will have to deal with them, but they are a minor anomaly and not a sign of doom,” said the man at the head of the table.

  “What are we going to do about them?” asked Jashier.

  “They will be eliminated in due time. Just now they are harmless enough,” replied the other man.

  “Harmless? They are working to uncover everything we are doing,” said Jashier.

  “Yes, they are, and that is helpful, so we should let them carry on for a while longer,” said another of the older men.

  “How can it be helpful?” Jashier asked.

  “Few will accept what they are saying. Most will judge it as a conspiracy theory and ignore it, but it will create an undercurrent of fear, which is a powerful tool in our hands,” said the man at the h
ead.

  “But … ” objected Jashier.

  “Relax, Jashier. We have seen a thousand rulers rise and fall. This is nothing new to us. Enjoy your meal and in due time we will deal with Dusty and his team,” said the man at the head of the table.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I was serving time cleaning up after the animals again when the master called me to his office for a conference. I was rarely called up to his office and never for a pleasant reason, so my expectations this time were not very high.

  The last time, it was after I had hurt one of my teachers. I did not mean to, but he was picking on me and would not let up, so I punched him. The punch was a bit harder than I intended. I only meant to knock him out, but I shattered his jaw and sprained his neck. That was a painful mistake, and the master made sure then that I knew who was the real power here and how weak I was in comparison.

  I had joined this group decades ago with high hopes. After being rejected by Alpha Academy I had no place to turn, but they found me and offered to teach me the art of magic. They promised I could be great and that they would help me do so, but it turned out they were wrong. I could not accomplish more than the most basic of spells, and most of the time I found myself being disciplined instead of being taught. It was the story of my life, moving from one kind of trouble to another.

  The door was open as I approached, which was typical. He knew exactly when I would arrive and expected me to walk in and stand before his desk in silence without making a sound until he addressed me. He must have known how much I hated that, but only a fool with a death wish would complain.

  I do not know how long I stood there before his desk before he finally addressed me. “Chrimson, I have an assignment for you. One for which you are a perfect match,” he said.

  “Master, I live to serve,” I said. I had no idea what it would be, but I doubted I would enjoy it. It seemed the only thing they thought I was good enough for was serving the animals we used as food.

  “Over there you will find some armor and a pack. Go put them on,” he said.

  As a Zalionian, I towered over him, but I knew that he was far more powerful than I could ever dream of being; so, as much as I hated the dismissive way he spoke to me, I did not dare argue. “Yes, Master.”

  When I had changed, I stood in front of his desk again and waited for further instructions. Eventually he said, “Chrimson, you have struggled in our training program for a long time now, but I am going to give you one last chance. This mission is your chance to prove to me that you are worth our continued investment. Fail, and you will prove that you are not worthy to be among our number. Do you understand?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said. There was a threat underlying that comment, since no one ever left the order alive.

  “The Wizard Kingdom has started operating out in the Phareon region. They claim they are there for benevolent reasons, but I suspect there is a lot more to it. You are from that region, correct?”

  “Yes, Master. I was born out there and grew up out there,” I said.

  “Excellent, then you already know your way around the region. You are to go out there and befriend the wizards, join their crew, and report back to me on everything they are doing.”

  I was shocked and annoyed. He wanted me to go on a spying mission? I was a magus and a Zalionian, not some lowly spy! I wanted to reach across the desk and throttle him, but instead I said, “Yes, Master.”

  “In your pack, you will find a datapad with all the information you will need to track them down and join them. You will also find a fake ID and some money. Destroy the datapad after you have memorized the information. Your armor is enchanted with a tracking spell, so we will be able to follow your progress and contact you as needed. Any questions?”

  “Master, when do I leave?” I asked.

  “Now,” he said and a gate opened next to me. He gestured to it, signaling that the meeting was over and I was to leave.

  There were a dozen loose ends I would have liked to have tied up before leaving, but I walked through the gate. If I could prove myself on this mission then maybe he would treat me better, and maybe the others would, too. It should be an easy mission. All I had to do was follow some goody-goody magi around and report what they did. I could not imagine them doing anything dangerous. They were too soft for that. Really, my biggest challenge would be keeping myself from losing my temper among them, which might cause them to reject me, making me a failure in the master’s eyes.

  As I came out of the gate, I found myself in a bar. I recognized it as one of the places I used to hang out, usually on a night that was followed by a morning in jail. I did not recognize any of the patrons, but they all looked like the sort of thugs I would have expected to see there. I decided that this was not a good place to pull out my datapad and read it, and headed for the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” asked a couple of humans, moving to block my exit.

  “Out. Now get out of my way,” I said.

  They pulled out electrified clubs and said, “You have not paid our bill yet.”

  “Move or die. The choice is yours,” I said. I knew their type, and a long drawn-out argument would not be effective. They counted on fear to defeat their enemies instead of actual strength. If I just walked toward them they would probably turn tail and run.

  As I started walking toward them, the other patrons pulled back and formed a ring around us. I knew that to be a bad sign, as now they would not let the humans out of the ring without a fight.

  The first human swung his club at my head, but my reach was far greater than his and I reached out and caught his arm. I used his arm like a rope and swung him into a nearby wall. He slammed into it with enough force to put a crack in the support beam. His body slid to the ground and did not move.

  I did not wait for the second man to attack. As I swung the first into the wall, I came around with my tail and slammed it hard into his chest, lifting him up several feet into the air and doubling him over my tail. As I continued my spin, he went flying off my tail into the crowd and I lost track of his body.

  I turned back toward the exit and said, “Anyone else feel like dying?”

  The crowd quickly split and I walked out onto the street. I knew law enforcement would be there soon, so I moved quickly to the main thoroughfare and looked for a place to hole up for the night. I had a datapad to study and some goody-goodies to befriend.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Flying with Dusty and his team of wizards was a radically different experience from traveling with Zah’rak and his team. While Zah’rak ran his ship almost like a pirate company, Dusty was obviously a military commander and expected that level of discipline, to a degree at least. Among the military he would be seen as a pushover, but compared to most civilian commanders he ran a tight ship.

  Each morning Spectra started us off with close-quarters combat training and physical fitness. This seemed strange to me, so one morning I remarked, “It seems odd that you spend so much time in this kind of training when you can blast from afar.”

  “Greymere, do you have experience in military maneuvers and battle plans?” asked Spectra.

  “Yes,” I said, then too late remembered that as a lower rank I ought to address her as “master.”

  “With normal troop deployment you have front-line forces; this is where the primary engagement happens and where the highest number of casualties occur. Behind these you have the artillery, which consists of larger, more powerful troops and equipment; these move more slowly, but deal considerably more destructive force. The Battle Wizards are like that artillery. They use their spells from a distance, behind barriers. Their spells can be devastating to the enemy but take a long time to cast, which leaves them exposed. The Dragon Guard is more like the Special Forces. We are not only on the front lines but also operate behind enemy lines. Therefore we tend to favor faster casting spells, staves and wands as our primary weapons and hav
e to cast while on the move,” she said.

  “That makes sense, Master. This physical training conditions your bodies to the high stress,” I said.

  “And, as you saw during Saraphym’s recent fight, we are often called upon to combine casting with physical combat,” said Master Dusty.

  After the physical combat training, for which I always joined them, there was a break and then Master Spectra began teaching them how to use their magic. Master Dusty provided help, but it was obvious Master Spectra was by far the more advanced. Saraphym, Kymberly and Jade were all fairly new to their art but were excited to be learning the much-maligned art of Spiritual Magic.

  I often watched their lessons, but being a mundane I could not participate. I wondered what Zah’rak would think if he found out I was just sitting back watching people learn magic from an experienced teacher, while he and his crew struggled to guess their way through it. Some day I would have to connect Zah’rak to this group. I owed him that much.

  It was during these training sessions that I realized Spectra was up to something. Dusty was officially in charge, and she always deferred to his authority, but she was definitely running the show and calling the shots. She had a way with him so that most of the time he seemed to think he was making the decisions, but in reality she was. Sometimes he would knowingly concede a point, but many times she influenced him without his knowledge.

  I did not see this as a bad thing. Dusty needed the assistance and she obviously cared for him deeply, but she was definitely planning something; I was not sure what that was, but it had to do with them being out here training in a banned magic art. All of them had two magical spell lines, but almost all of their current training focused on the spiritual line.

  As the days rolled on, Saraphym did her best to teach me the history, policies and rules of the Wizard Kingdom, most of which were very interesting but did not apply to me. In return, I taught her about her own race and educated the others about the region we were in. During one of these times I approached Dusty and said, “Master Dusty, I would like to take Saraphym outside for a while.”