Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles 1: Wizard Defiant

by Rodney Hartman

“Nonsense,” said the Commandant. “Use commandant override.”

  “Insufficient override authority, Thomas,” said Margery. “Records are marked council restricted.”

  “Bullsh…” the Commandant began before he caught himself. He paused for a few moments before saying, “Margery, are you connected to the tele-network?”

  “Yes, Thomas.”

  “Then place a priority message to Councilwoman Janice Deluth. She should be in the Aloran planetary administration building on the planet Risors.”

  After a dozen heartbeats, Margery said, “I have contact with Councilwoman Deluth’s battle helmet. She is presently in a meeting, but I am assured she should be out shortly.”

  Richard was astonished at the turn of events. Councilwoman Deluth was an old wizard scout who’d went into politics after her Power reserve had been irreparably damaged during the Teton war. She had gone on to hold a position on the Intergalactic Council. It was the highest political office ever held by a wizard scout.

  The Commandant looked at Richard and said, “You must have some high-level friends to get your records restricted from the Academy’s commandant. You’ll find I have some high-level friends as well.”

  Richard kept his thoughts to himself. Why bother trying to explain? I could tell them I was raised in an orphanage and that the few friends I made in the military are all dead. I could tell them I’m mystified why my records are restricted. But in the end, what would it matter? They’d never believe me anyway.

  Four minutes passed without anyone saying a word. Finally, the Commandant stiffened in his seat and said, “Yes, Janice. It’s Thomas. … It’s good to hear your voice too. … Yes. It has been a long time.”

  It took Richard a moment to figure out Margery was somehow silently transmitting the councilwoman’s part of the conversation to the Commandant while he was replying aloud. After a few more pleasantries, the Commandant said, “Well, Janice, I have an unusual situation here. One of our cadets has his application and testing records marked council-restricted access. … Yes, that’s what I think. It has to be a mistake. … Yes, if you would be so kind. He’s cadet 832 of the 637th cohort. … Yes, I’ll wait.”

  After about thirty seconds, the Commandant said, “Are you sure? Everyone has to have an application and testing records. … No. I believe you, Janice. It just seems strange. … Is there anything else strange in his records? Any help would be appreciated. … Pretty generic, huh? … Yes, I understand. … That would be great. If you find out anything, please let me know. … Same to you. … Bye, Janice.”

  The Commandant said nothing for a long time. Both Richard and TAC Officer Myers remained silent. Richard had a feeling the Commandant was in deep conversation with his battle computer. After almost a minute of silence, the Commandant turned his attention to Richard and stared at him intently.

  Richard ‘saw’ a small line of Power move from the Commandant towards him. When the Power touched him, he felt a tingle at the base of his neck. Richard didn’t need anyone to tell him he was being probed. After a couple of minutes, the tingling stopped, and the line of Power withdrew back to the Commandant.

  “Who trained you in shields?” said the Commandant.

  “I don’t understand, sir,” Richard said.

  “You have a stealth shield up,” said the Commandant. “It’s pretty crude, but I doubt you could create it without training. Who trained you?”

  Richard had no idea what the Commandant was talking about. What the hell is a stealth shield? he wondered. “Sir, I’m not familiar with the term stealth shield. I haven’t been trained by anyone to the best of my knowledge.”

  The Commandant looked thoughtfully at Richard. Finally, he said, “TAC Officer Myers, you will confine cadet 832 to his barracks until I make further inquiries.”

  “Yes, sir,” said TAC Officer Myers. Richard thought he detected a note of disappointment in his TAC officer’s voice. Richard figured he’d probably hoped the Commandant would convene a court martial that very evening.

  “As for you, cadet 832,” said the Commandant. “I’m curious. Why didn’t you mention to your TAC officer or anyone else that you did not apply for wizard scout training? Didn’t you think it was unusual?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” said Richard. He added the second sir since he figured the inquiry was over. Apparently, he was still a wizard scout cadet. “Sir, this cadet assumed it was a mistake, sir. However, I’ve never quit anything in my whole life. Since I like challenges, I figured I would see if I had what it takes to be a wizard scout. Sir!”

  The Commandant looked at TAC Officer Myers and said, “Apparently cadet 832 enjoys challenges, TAC Officer Myers. If by some miracle I decide not to kick him out of the Academy, maybe you can help him find some.”

  “With pleasure, sir,” said TAC Officer Myers.

  “You’re dismissed, cadet 832,” said the Commandant. “Report back to your barracks.” With those words, he looked down at the computer display on his desk. Richard was just another worm again.

  Richard jumped to his feet, stood at attention and said, “Sir, yes, sir!” He did as near a perfect about face as he’d ever done and marched at the double out of the commandant’s office.

  Chapter 4 – The Academy

  _____________________

  Richard woke up and glanced at the clock on his desk. It displayed 04:59 in glowing, green numbers. He strained his ears and heard the sharp footfalls of one of the TAC officers walking down the hallway towards one of the four common latrines. They almost always checked to make sure none of the cadets was trying to cheat the system by getting up early.

  The clock’s glowing display changed to 05:00. Almost immediately, the hallway’s bright, overhead lighting snapped on. Richard heard the sound of two hundred and fifteen other cadets scrambling to be first to one of the common latrines. For his part, Richard eased himself out from underneath his blanket in an attempt to keep the well-starched sheets from being wrinkled. With a well-practiced maneuver, he got out of bed and reached into his wall locker for his physical training uniform. With two quick pulls, he had his shorts and sweatshirt on. They were quickly followed by his socks and exercise boots. Once dressed, he turned back to his bed. With a few well-practiced tugs, he had its sheets back in tight, regulation order. Richard glanced at the clock again. It showed 05:02. He grabbed his shaving kit and sprinted for the nearest latrine.

  When he’d first arrived for pre-Academy training, he’d thought there was a misprint on the daily schedule. Richard had been in the military for almost two years before he’d arrived for training. Anyone with prior military experience knew it was impossible to wake troops up at 0500 hours and expect them to be in formation at 0505 hours fully shaved and teeth brushed. But, he’d been wrong. Not only did the TAC officers expect it, but woe-be-unto any cadets who were even a second late for morning formation.

  By the time Richard got to the latrine, it was already starting to clear out. The first wave of cadets had already run back to their rooms to make last minute adjustments. Richard normally liked to have first shot at the sinks, but not today. Since he was still confined to the barracks, he was exempt from morning formation. He figured he’d take his time this morning. Besides, the other cadets needed the extra time more than he did. Richard made a quick swipe with his razor, ran his toothbrush under the faucet to get it wet, and headed back to his room while scrubbing his teeth. He walked briskly. Although he wouldn’t be in formation, the TAC officers would still expect him to be standing in front of his room ready for inspection.

  “It’s four minutes after,” someone yelled from down the hallway.

  As Richard turned into the doorway of his room, two hundred and fifteen sets of running feet were racing for the stairwells leading to the outside. Richard placed his razor and toothbrush in their proper positions in his wall locker. He then stood at attention beside the door of his room.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The fifteen second warning alarm sounded in the dese
rted hallway. That is, it was deserted except for the presence of TAC Officer Gaston Myers.

  “You’re off confinement as of now, cadet 832,” yelled TAC Officer Myers. “You’d better not be late for my formation, or you’ll be sorry you were ever born!”

  Richard cursed his TAC officer under his breath and raced for the stairs. He took them four at a time.

  Beep. Beep.

  The five second alarm sounded. Richard raced out the door in a futile attempt to get to his spot in the company formation. He knew he’d never make it in time. He was right.

  Beep.

  The final alarm sounded. It was 0505 hours.

  “You’re late, 832!” shouted a nearby TAC officer. “Everybody can thank cadet 832 for some extra calisthenics this morning for being late. Formation is a group effort. If one cadet is late, every cadet is late. Now everybody down and give me thirty!”

  Some of the nearby cadets made a few half-hearted grumbles at Richard, but nothing serious. They all knew the TAC officers would always find some reason for extra calisthenics. The bad news was it was a weekend, so there were no classes today. The TAC officers had all day to give the cadets their undivided attention.

  The morning wore on with the TAC officers thinking of one torturous exercise after another. The only break was when they got the privilege of running from one end of the parade field to the other. It was 0830 hours before the TAC officers finally ordered them back into formation.

  “I hope you’re awake by now, cadets!” said TAC Officer Myers. “Today is a special day. We’re going to call it ‘cadet 832 day’. It seems cadet 832 told the Commandant he liked challenges. Well, TAC officers like challenges too. So for this special ‘cadet 832 day’, we’re going to strive to help all of you get all the challenges you can handle. Next formation is at zero nine hundred with full field gear. Too bad you missed breakfast, but since cadet 832 did not make our little road march yesterday, we’re going to do it again today. You can eat when you get to the top of hill 3025. That is, assuming you get there by noon. Dismissed!”

  Richard ran back into the barracks with the other cadets. Many of them let him know how much they appreciated the opportunity to participate in ‘cadet 832 day’.

  ‘Thanks, 832!’, ‘Idiot!’, ‘What the hell were you thinking?’, and ‘Why don’t you just D.F.R.?’ were some of the nicer comments.

  Richard let the snide remarks roll off his back. The other cadets were just being used in one of TAC Officer Myers’ mind games. They knew it as well as Richard. Next week, a different cadet would probably be the company scapegoat.

  As Richard approached the door of his room, he spied a few of his personal items strewn in the hallway. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew what to expect even before he entered his room. His room had been exploded by one of the TAC officers. His tightly made bed was overturned, and the bedding was tossed across the room. Every item in his wall locker had been thrown helter-skelter from one end of the room to the other.

  It’s going to be a long day, Richard thought as he turned his bed upright and straighten the mattress.

  “They’ve got you zeroed in this time, 832,” said a voice from the doorway. It was cadet 147. He was Richard’s acting platoon sergeant, at least for this week. Leadership positions among the cadets rotated frequently. The TAC officers had a habit of taking out their wrath on the acting leaders whenever their cadets screwed up. Cadet 147 was an exception to the rule. He’d been acting platoon sergeant for almost three months. That was a lifetime in pre-Academy terms. Richard had a lot of respect for 147. He was an older man, probably in his mid-thirties, and he was a good leader. Richard was certain he was prior military. Richard also thought he was probably a senior officer, but 147 had never acknowledged such. Why a senior officer would want to go through the misery of a worm school like the Intergalactic Wizard Scout Academy was beyond Richard. But, he figured everyone had their own little secrets.

  “Yeah,” said Richard. “Myers is unhappy I didn’t get kicked out of the Academy yesterday. By the way, 147, I’m sorry about 215. I know she was your friend.”

  “So am I,” he said, “but the way attrition is going, we’ll probably all be D.F.R.’d before we can graduate.” Looking at the mess in Richard’s room, 147 said, “Why don’t you get your field gear ready and then go shower. Once some of the others in the platoon are ready, we’ll help you get your room back in shape.”

  “Thanks,” said Richard, “but that’s not necessary. I can handle it.”

  “Nonsense,” said 147. “Cadets stick together. You’d do the same for us.”

  Richard wasn’t sure that was true, but he kept quiet. He’d been raised in an orphanage until he was fifteen. After that, he’d spent three long years living hand-to-mouth on the streets. Those had been rough years. Richard had learned the hard way you had to look out for yourself, because no one else was going to give you anything for free. When he turned eighteen, Richard had joined the military and discovered he had skills and abilities which were valued by his peers. After his initial boot training, he’d been assigned to a coveted position in marine recon. His eighteen months in marine recon had been the most rewarding and happiest time of his life. Of course, the downside was the numerous enemies of the Intergalactic Empire tried to kill him on occasion, but nothing was perfect.

  With the help of several other cadets, Richard’s room was back in shape quickly. His was not the first time the TAC officers had exploded a cadet’s room. Richard made a silent promise to assist in the cleanup the next time a cadet was on the receiving end of a TAC officer’s wrath.

  Liz was right, Richard thought. I haven’t been very friendly or helpful to the other cadets, but I’ll force myself to do better. Too bad she had to get D.F.R.’d for me to figure out friends can come in handy.

  The TAC officers were in rare form during the road march to the top of hill 3025. Every few hundred yards, they had the formation stop at a hastily improvised torture device. In one location, the cadets were divided into teams of ten and forced to hold a five meter long wooden pole at arm’s length. In another location, a huge pit had been dug, and all two hundred and sixteen cadets were put in the pit at the same time. Then they were told the last one out would be excused from the remainder of the road march. It didn’t take long for the smaller cadets to team up against the largest cadets and toss them out of the pit. After five frantic minutes, cadet 303 was the sole remaining cadet in the pit. She was a short native of the planet Cremia, but she was feisty and never gave up. She laughed and waved playfully at the other cadets as one of the TAC officers drove her past them while they were marching up the steepest part of the hill. Richard smiled. It was hard for anyone to get mad at 303. She seemed to be eternally good natured, and most of the cadets in the company protected her as if she were their own sister.

  Eventually, they reached the top of the hill and were fed a well-deserved lunch. No cadets had fallen out during the march, but many of them were hurting more than they would like to admit. Richard was in better shape than most since he had missed the march on the previous day.

  After a short lunch, the TACs marched the cadets to an open area swarming with technicians. They were busy setting up three-meter-high posts to form thirty-meter-squares. Richard counted three rows of seven squares. The TAC officers divided the cadets into teams of ten with the six odd cadets being spread out among the other teams. TAC Officer Myers personally took charge of Richard’s team and double timed them to the farthest square.

  “This is different,” panted 303. She had rejoined her squad when they had reached the top of the hill. As it so happened, 303 had been assigned to Richard’s team.

  “They’re holo-squares,” said 147. He’d also been assigned to Richard’s team. “They’re only used for advanced training because they’re so expensive. I guess we’ve joined the big boys now.”

  “What’s that?” said 303 with a mischievous smile. “You mean the big girls, don’t you? You are aware
since the last simulation we females outnumber you males, don’t you?”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” said 147. “Had you, 832?”

  Richard rarely participated in the friendly banter the cadets used to vent their stress. However, fresh from 215’s chastisement to be friendlier, Richard took advantage of the opening. “Well to tell the truth, 147, I’ve never really paid attention. Are there females in our cohort?”

  “Oh,” said 303 who sounded a little surprised. “Cadet 832 does talk outside of a classroom. Well, 832, you can’t fool me. I happen to know cadet 647 and you had a few hookups before she was D.F.R.’d. So, don’t try to tell me you don’t notice females in the unit.”

  Richard turned a little red at the mention of 647. They had been pretty close during their first six months of training, but Richard thought they had been discrete. Apparently, they hadn’t been as discrete as Richard had assumed.

  “Oh, ho!” laughed another cadet in their team. “I think cadet 832 is actually blushing.” Several of the other members of the team laughed good-naturedly.

  “Silence in the ranks!” said TAC Officer Myers. “We’ll see if you feel like laughing after a few minutes in the holo-square.” By this time they had reached the square formed by the metallic posts. All but two of the technicians had departed.

  “Is it ready?” said TAC Officer Myers.

  “Yes, wizard scout,” said the older of the technicians who happened to be a senior sergeant. “We’ve got it hooked up into the tele-network. Your battle computer should have no trouble controlling the training scenarios.”

  “Fine,” said TAC Officer Myers. He removed a rounded piece of dull-black plastic off his hip. As he flipped the elongated plastic in his hand, it expanded into the shape of a wizard scout battle helmet. He placed the close-fitting helmet on his head.

  The sergeant had not moved.

  “Is there something else?” said TAC Officer Myers.

  “Wizard scout,” the sergeant said. “The specs for this holo-square were different than the others. Those are full-force rays on the holo-posts. The specs were specific, and they were signed by the High Command. But I’m concerned. Full-force rays can be deadly if not handled correctly.”