Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles 1: Wizard Defiant

by Rodney Hartman

  The weekend dragged by for Richard. The TAC officers were merciless. Although Richard’s side gave him a lot of trouble, he did his best to hide the pain from the TAC officers. He had no doubt TAC Officer Myers would take great pleasure in transferring him out of his training cohort for medical reasons if he got the chance.

  However, all things eventually end, and after two hours of physical training the morning of the first day of the workweek, the TAC officers marched the cadets to the main gate of the Intergalactic Wizard Scout Academy. The Academy was composed of a score of half-a-kilometer long buildings separated by well-maintained parade fields. As they marched closer, Richard read a sign over the open gate.

  “Through these gates pass the best scouts in two galaxies.”

  Just prior to reaching the gates, TAC Officer Myers said, “Platoon sergeants! Take charge of your platoons and march them to their classes.”

  “Sir! Yes, sir!” said the eight platoon sergeants in unison.

  After passing through the entrance, cadet 422 marched Richard’s platoon towards a building to the right of the entrance. Richard was glad to see the TAC officers remain outside the Academy’s entrance. In order to facilitate learning, TACs were forbidden in the classrooms or to even enter the Academy grounds. That was one of the perks of being real Academy cadets.

  The rest of the morning was a blur of indoctrination classes. Most of the instructors were civilians, and compared to his TAC officers, they were sweethearts. After lunch, Richard was pulled out of his platoon by an old technician and taken to a room filled with every conceivable test machine Richard could envision.

  “They tell me by some administrative slip, you have not been tested,” said the old man. “We are going to remedy that situation now.”

  Remedy it he did. The old technician had Richard sit in various chairs while he hooked him up with all kinds of wires, hats, and monitoring clips. All Richard really remembered after three hours was an endless blur of buzzing noises accompanied by flashing lights. Every so often the old technician or one of his assistants would say, “Hmm. That’s interesting.” However, they never volunteered any information to Richard, and he never asked.

  At the end of the three hours, Richard was taken to a room and asked to sit in a chair opposite a panel of six older people. At least he thought they were all older, but two of them were nonhumans, so he wasn’t sure. One of the nonhumans asked Richard to sit and relax while they ran a few tests on him. Unlike the previous technicians, these testers did not use machines. Instead, they remained in their chairs and poked and prodded him with lines of Power. They must have heard about TAC Officer Shatstot’s experience, because they worked very cautiously. Richard watched the lines of Power snake out from the six testers. The lines weaved together and formed an intricate single line that gently prodded the outer edges of Richard. Whenever his Power began to react, the tester’s line of Power would withdraw and probe from another direction. The six testers were obviously experts, and they worked well as a team. After an hour and a half of probing, they told Richard he could leave. That was it. No explanation. Nothing.

  By the time his testing was over, Richard’s fellow cadets had finished their training for the day and returned to the tender-loving care of their TAC officers. Richard wasted no time. He double timed the three kilometers between the Academy buildings and his pre-Academy barracks. His platoon was just leaving the mess hall when he arrived, so he discretely joined them. At least he tried to discretely join them, but a deep yell let him know his arrival had been noticed.

  “Late again, cadet 832,” said TAC Officer Myers. “I want everyone to thank cadet 832 for forcing you to take the scenic route to the barracks by way of the obstacle course.” When no one said anything, he said again, “I said, I want everyone to thank cadet 832.”

  With the obvious cue, two hundred and fifteen voices said, “Thank you, cadet 832!”

  With that, TAC Officer Myers had the platoon sergeants march their cadets to the obstacle course where they were subjected to two hours of hell. Eventually, TAC Officer Myers gave the order to return to the barracks. Richard assumed it was so the TAC officers would be able to get enough rest to torture them the next day.

  When they finally got back to the barracks, there was barely enough time to shower and get their gear ready before the lights were turned out. Richard was just grateful no TAC officers had exploded his room that day. His last thought before the lights went out was, This place sucks.

  The rest of the week at the Academy went similar to the first day. Classes consisted of generic indoctrination classes. Occasionally, one of the cadets would be pulled out of class for testing. The technicians left Richard alone, and he was able to remain with the other cadets for classes. Each evening after classes, the TAC officers took the cadets to various obstacles courses or long distance runs. Richard was grateful he was not singled out as the cause for the additional physical training. Most of the cadets pulled out for Academy testing were late returning to the barracks area. TAC Officer Myers always seemed to be there waiting to catch them in the act of attempting to slip into formation without being noticed.

  During one of the team-building obstacles courses, Richard was teamed with cadets 147, 303, and his platoon sergeant, 422. The obstacle was a ten-meter-wide ladder made out of wooden poles. The rungs were spaced at uneven intervals far enough apart to require all but the tallest cadets to hang free for at least a short time while they pulled themselves up to the next rung. Cadet 303 was short even for a female, and she was struggling to manage the large gaps. Cadets 422, 147, and Richard waited at the top of the 30-meter-tall ladder for their teammate to catch up. They were not allowed to help, but they did shout encouragements to 303 as she gamely overcame the rungs one by one.

  “Come on, 303,” said 422. “You’re halfway here. It’ll be easy sailing once you clear the top.”

  “Yeah,” said 147. “It’s a beautiful view up here. It’s well worth the climb.”

  Richard knew he wasn’t very good at good-natured bantering, but with a thought to his be friendly speech from Liz, he made a stab at it. “You can do it, 303. You might not be able to keep your platoon sergeant job longer than five minutes, but I’m sure you can handle this ladder.”

  Cadet 303 paused in her climb and looked up at him. Richard could feel the stares of 422 and 147 on him.

  “Cadet 832,” said 303 with a laugh. “Was that an attempt at humor? Hey, 422, I think 832 tried to make a joke.”

  “By the Creator,” said 442 also laughing, “I think he did. That was the most pathetic joke I’ve ever heard, 832. Don’t quit your day job.”

  “Yeah,” agreed 147 with a big smile. “It was pathetic. But for 832, it was pretty good. I think you’re almost becoming human, 832.”

  Richard blushed. He preferred staying incognito. Being the center of attention for making a joke was a new experience for him. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

  “Aw, leave him alone,” said 303 in a panting voice. She had renewed her struggle against the ladder, but she continued to talk as she studied the best way to attack the next rung. “I like this version of 832 a whole lot better than the one we endured during pre-Academy days.”

  “I’ll second that,” said 422. “If you keep it up, 832, you might find yourself with a few friends.”

  “Liz, I mean 215,” Richard said, “reminded me friends were important. TAC Officer Shatstot told me they were going to get harder on us now that we are actual Academy cadets. He said they were going to try and get rid of any of us who they thought couldn’t make wizard scout before the Empire spent too many credits on us. I think friends are going to be very important in the days ahead. I haven’t had many friends during my life.”

  “Wow,” said 147, “that was probably the longest speech I’ve heard you make in the last two years.”

  “And the most melancholy,” said 303 panting hard to catch her breath. She had just pulled herself up to the rung two levels below them. “Well, pe
rsonally, I wouldn’t mind having the best fighter in the company for a friend. However, I have a feeling anything good in that respect will be counterbalanced by being friends with a cadet TAC Officer Myers hates. I suspect your friends will catch some residual heat from the association.”

  “You’re right,” said Richard. “It’s probably best to keep your –”

  “Relax, 832,” said 422 with another laugh. “She was joking. I can see we’re going to have to work on your humor perception a little. But forget that for now. You said TAC Officer Shatstot told you. Are you like buddy-buddies with him now?”

  “No,” Richard said quickly. “He just talked quite a bit when he was trying to heal me the other day.”

  “Speaking of which,” said 147, “how are you holding up? Are your ribs still bothering you?”

  “They’re not bad,” Richard lied. The obstacle course had re-damaged his cracked ribs, and he felt like someone was sticking a knife in his side.

  “Liar,” said 303 who had finally made the top of the ladder. “I saw you slam your side against that post during the rotating-logs climb. You should report to the medics before you damage your ribs anymore.”

  “No way,” Richard said. “Myers would have me out on a medical before the medics finished filling out their paperwork. I’ll be fine. I just need to be more careful, that’s all.”

  “All right,” said 422. “It’s your funeral.”

  “Well,” said 303, “I’d hate for you to die without a friend, so I’m going to go out on a limb. My name is Telsa Stremar. I’m from the Dreppin system, and I came to the Academy right after I graduated from the university with a degree in astral physics.”

  Richard didn’t say anything. An awkward silence hung in the air for about five seconds.

  “Okay, 832,” said 147, “I guess we’re going to have to work on more than your humor. You’re a little short in the etiquette department as well. If a fellow cadet lowers their social shields enough to tell you their name, you’re supposed to reciprocate and tell them yours. I’ll show you how it’s done. My name is Jerad Criteron. I was born on Terra, but my parents were military, so I’ve been all over. I’m thirty-eight Terran years old, and I’ve been told I’m the oldest human cadet to ever make it past pre-Academy training. I was a battalion commander in heavy armor with almost eighteen years of service.” Holding up his hands before anyone could say anything, he said, “And why would an old man like me apply for wizard scout training? I have my reasons.” Looking at Richard, he said, “Next?”

  Richard listened to the yells and grunts of other candidates just beginning their climb of the ladder obstacle. He knew they didn’t have much time. One of their TACs was bound to spot them sitting on the top rung of the ladder before long.

  Okay, Liz, Richard thought. This is for you.

  “My name is Richard Shepard. I was also born on Terra in what used to be called the United States. I have no idea who my parents are. I was raised in an orphanage. I hit the streets when I was fifteen. When I was eighteen, I watched a video on marine recon. I liked what I saw. I found a military recruiting station. They liked what they saw. And here I am.” Richard paused for a second and then added, “Oh, I spent a year and a half with the 43rd marine recon detachment. I made sergeant just a couple of months before I was ordered to attend Academy training. Oh, yeah. And no offense, Jerad, but I don’t especially like officers.”

  “Wow,” said Jerad with a grin at the others. “Once you get Rick talking, you can’t shut him up. And, there’s no offense taken by the way. I don’t especially like officers either.”

  “My name’s, Richard, not Rick,” Richard said a little affronted that Jerad had incorrectly said his name.

  “Nonsense,” said Jerad still grinning. “Richard’s too formal. Rick’s a good name for your friends. My actual name is Jeradalinianpa. Now isn’t Jerad a much better name for my friends?”

  Richard was speechless. His brain wasn’t very good at picking up on subtle nuances. Is he making fun of me? Richard wondered. After a moment, Richard decided Jerad was sincere. He was just being friendly.

  “Yes,” Richard said. “Jerad is a lot better. I guess Rick is a good name for my friends to call me.”

  “Well,” said 422. “I don’t think we have much time, so before we all get too maudlin, I’ll share a little. My name is Tamica Traverde Thrangorsa. My friends just call me, Tam. I was born right here on Velos. I’m twenty-four, and I spent four years in the mercenaries putting out hotspots in the Tegaos system before being selected for pre-Academy training. We didn’t have ranks in my unit, so I hate both officers and enlisted people equally.”

  “The mercs, huh?” said Jerad. “I thought I recognized –“

  “What are you all lollygagging around for up there?” shouted one of the TAC officers. “You better get moving, or I’ll make you wish you had been D.F.R.’d during the simulation with those other bozos.”

  With the bonding moment over, they wasted no time getting to the bottom of the ladder. Even 303 fairly flew down the ladder. But they weren’t fast enough for the TAC officer, and he ordered them into the ditch. Richard had a feeling it was an unwritten rule in the military that every obstacle course have a ditch. In civilian language, a ditch was a water and slime-filled obstacle for soldiers to crawl through in order to appease the sadistic pleasures of various forms of drill instructors throughout the galaxy. By the time Richard and his team had finished navigating the ditch, they looked more like mud-covered salamanders than they did human beings.

  Chapter 8 – Academy Training

  _________________________

  The initial week of Academy training went by quickly. Unfortunately, the following weekend dragged by. Without academic classes, they were once again under the full control of TAC Officer Myers. He ran them relentlessly from one fiendish torture to another. Regardless, things seemed better than they had been before. Richard doubted the TAC officers had slacked off just because they were officially Academy cadets. Rather, Richard figured it was because having Telsa, Jerad, and Tam to joke around with made the TAC officers’ tortures easier to take. Whatever the reason, they survived the weekend, and Richard found himself looking forward to another week of Academy classes. The previous week had been indoctrinations. The real training started now.

  Once they were marched through the Academy gates, their platoon sergeants guided them into a large auditorium for a common-core class. Chief Instructor Winslow stood at the podium waiting patiently for all the cadets to take their seats. She was a civilian, but Richard liked her anyway.

  “Now, cadets,” she said to the two hundred and sixteen students. “After your first week of wizard classes, what are your questions?”

  A cadet a few seats to the left of Richard raised her hand.

  “Yes, cadet 240? What is your question?”

  The cadet, a female from the Kreptilia sector jumped out of her seat to a stiff attention and yelled, “Sir! Cadet 240 does not understand the difference between magic and Power. They both seem the same. Sir!”

  “Ah, yes,” chuckled the chief instructor with a smile, “that’s a common point of confusion. And, you don’t have to say ‘Sir!’ twice when you talk to an Academy instructor, nor do you have to stand at attention and shout. You are here to learn.”

  Chief Instructor Winslow was a nice woman. While Richard figured she thought she was doing the cadets a favor by trying to create a relaxed atmosphere, he thought she was really doing them a disservice. Although they had only started their official Academy classes last week, the two years of pre-Academy training with the 4th Training Brigade had taught him that you had to stay on your toes at all times. They had started with eight hundred and thirty-two cadets. They were now at two hundred and sixteen. The TAC officers were always looking for any little excuse to D.F.R. a cadet. Assuming he graduated in four more years, he would be one of less than a hundred cadets from their original cohort of eight hundred thirty-two who would have the golden-dragon insi
gnia of a wizard scout pinned on their lapel.

  “As you were told during your indoctrinations last week, the entire universe is composed of Power with a capital ‘P’. Everything has it, and when you get to some of your advanced classes in quantum relativity, it will be explained to you in mindboggling detail,” she said with a friendly laugh and smile. “But for now, just know everything radiates at least a small amount of Power. Most of that radiated Power is recycled back into other existing objects, but some of the Power finds its way into pools, or as they are more commonly called, reserves. The process is similar to the way water evaporates and is released back to earth as rain. Most of the rainwater is soaked back into the ground, but some of it winds up in lakes. Think of one of those lakes as your Power reserve. Each of you has access to one of those Power reserves. If you didn’t, you would not be at the Academy. Almost everyone shares a reserve with others. If your access is to one of the larger reserves, you may share it with hundreds of others. A few fortunate wizards have a reserve all to themselves, although that is rare. Once you get to your upper level classes, you will be trained how to use the Power in your reserve to energize your wizard abilities. By the end of your time at the Academy, you will be able to use your Power to perform active and passive scans, create stealth and defensive shields, perform heals and self-heals, tear holes in an opponent’s shields, and even use telekinesis to levitate objects including yourselves. A few of you may even be talented enough to manipulate Power links or do interdimensional shifts. In your final class at the Academy, you will learn how to dump the Power in your reserve as a last-ditch method of attack. But don’t let your egos swell too much,” she laughed. “Your opponents will have learned defenses against your wizard abilities, and hopefully, you will have learned defenses against theirs.”

  She paused a few seconds to let the cadets ponder the information before continuing. “During your first two years as cadets, you were in pre-Academy training designed to weed out those unsuitable to be wizard scouts. As part of that pre-Academy training, your TACs introduced you to a lot of the Empire’s advanced-technology scout equipment. Almost every piece of Empire equipment uses power. That’s power with a lowercase ‘p’. Using nuclear sifters, technicians are able to gather radiated Power with a capital ‘P’ from objects and store that energy as power with a lowercase ‘p’ in isotopic batteries. The power with a lowercase ‘p’ in the isotopic batteries is then used as the energy source for your battle suits, weapons, etcetera. Larger isotopic batteries are used to run even the larger star cruisers. Any questions so far?”