Magic Man Charlie

by Scott Baron

  Eddie flashed down from above, his shiny new rail gun hurling hypersonic rounds into the remains of the downed ship for good measure.

  “Hey, guys!” Ripley’s excited voice called out over their comms. “Did you see that? How cool, right?”

  “Rip, where’d you get a rail gun?” Rika asked as she fired a series of disabling spells at the remaining Tslavar mercenaries, giving the cyborgs a window in which to physically engage them.

  “Uncle Cal had it pulled from mothballs for us. You know how those military guys are. They never seem to get rid of anything. So when all the weapons systems shifted to pulse and plasma tech, this baby just went into cold storage up on the moon.”

  “And now Eddie’s sporting a freakin’ rail gun,” Charlie said with a grin. “Holy hell, that’s fantastic.”

  “The other ship!” Leila called out. “It’s at the shoreline.”

  “Shit. It’s already underwater by now,” Charlie groaned.

  “Don’t worry,” Eddie said. “Ara lit it up again as it was fleeing, and her flames are still burning underwater for the moment, so I can target it. Unless it dives really deep really fast, I’m pretty sure my sabots will have no problem with a few hundred feet of water. Not at Mach six-plus.”

  The ship darted toward the coastline, and the sound of a volley of hypersonic rounds being launched into the water soon echoed from the shore. After a several-second pause, a great explosion followed, the sea churning from the blast.

  “Got it,” Ripley called out merrily over their comms.

  With the destruction of both of their ships, the Tslavar mercenaries’ spirit was broken. They would not be taken without a fight, though, and for the next twenty minutes, the battle continued as the cyborgs slowly mopped up the remaining invaders.

  Though quarter was offered, none would accept defeat, opting instead to fight to the death. And so it was, the remains of the alien invasion ended at the hands of the denizens of Earth.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The man lying at Bawb’s feet was an orangish hue, his hair likewise veering toward the red scale of the spectrum, but something closer to the color of old bricks. He was of indeterminate age, and was well muscled within his finery. A man of action, it seemed. And one of great power as well.

  Ara had laid a heavy restraining spell upon the unconscious man when Bawb, lips still red with fresh blood, had carried him from the battlefield.

  “How was he?” Charlie asked. He was not inquiring about the man’s physical state.

  “Powerful,” Bawb said, licking his lips, the stolen power heavy in his veins. “Very powerful. Even as I was draining him, he fought back and nearly bested me.”

  “I didn’t think people could do that once you got your teeth into them.”

  “Normally, they cannot. Only the most powerful of beings are able to resist my kind’s natural effect and resist even as we take their power. He is exceptionally strong, Charlie. And dangerous.”

  “Obviously. I think all of their casters are. Or were, I should say.”

  “Yes, I saw the aftermath of the new weapon our AI friend is carrying,” the assassin said with an approving grin. “The sheer velocity of those projectiles overpowered even the most heavily layered defensive spells as if they were but paper walls trying to shield their ship from the onslaught.”

  “Rail gun tech,” Rika chimed in. “Hypersonic sabots that travel at many times the speed of sound. The rounds themselves aren’t explosive, but the shockwave generated by their impact and path as they tear through a target causes a rather catastrophic reaction, as you saw.”

  “We need more weapons like that,” Leila said. “Do they make them smaller? Like, a size we could carry?”

  “I don’t know. Charlie, any insights?”

  “Beats the hell out of me. But we’ll ask Eddie when he and Rip get back from their mop-up flight with the others. From what I gathered, this was a one-off, but maybe Cal can work up something for us now that we know how effective it was.”

  The bound man at their feet shifted position.

  “Our guest is regaining consciousness,” Bawb said.

  “Shouldn’t we gag him?” Rika asked. “I mean, a caster as powerful as that, right here in our midst could be a very bad thing.

  Bawb was unconcerned. “I have drained his power, Rika. Despite his best efforts, he should not be able to cast.” He turned his attention to the enormous red dragon crouched beside them, observing the orange-skinned man. “Ara, do keep a close eye on him, though, would you, please?”

  “Of course, Geist,” she replied with a toothy grin.

  “Geist?” their captive said. “Funny, you should take your moniker from such a legendary assassin. You should consider yourself fortunate he has been dead for nearly a thousand years, or he might take umbrage at your use of his name.”

  “Oh, didn’t he tell you?” Charlie said, leaning in close, but not too close. “This is the Geist.”

  “Impossible. Even a Wampeh of his abilities has his limitations. The Geist is long dead.”

  “Yeah, well, time travel’s a funny thing like that. So what you’ve got here isn’t a thousand-year-old remnant of the man, but rather, the real deal, deadliest assassin in thirty systems, in his prime.”

  “Thirty?” their captive said with an amused grin. “Far more than that, I assure you.”

  Bawb turned to Charlie and shrugged. “I told you so.”

  “Oh, shut up, Bob. You know what I meant.” Charlie turned his attention back to the orange visla. “So, you seem to know my friend here. Then I’m sure you’ve also heard of our friend Aranzgrgghmunatharrgle, here, as well.”

  Their captive, despite his best efforts at maintaining an aloof and indifferent expression, nevertheless betrayed a look of shock at the name. Once, he might have commented that the great Aranzgrgghmunatharrgle had died over a millennia ago, but given the revelations of this day on the battlefield, he felt it wise to hold his tongue.

  The Zomoki was the right kind, and her coloring matched that of legend. And if she had indeed survived so much longer than any believed, her size, and power, would logically have increased. And she was a big girl, for sure. And now that he recognized the origin of the power weighing down upon him, he realized the true might of the creature casually looming over him.

  He glanced at Leila and Rika, the weakest of the group, magically speaking, and uttered a short, guttural phrase. The magical restraints surged around him, snuffing out his feeble attempt.

  “What was that, Ara?”

  “A killing spell,” she replied. “Incredibly weak. My restraints dissipated it before it reached its target, though given his weakened state, I doubt the spell would have done any real harm.”

  “Fascinating,” Bawb said. “Even after my draining him of his power, he still retains the ability to cast. I must admit, I am impressed. You are a truly powerful being, my friend. Perhaps I should have gagged you after all,” he said with a wry grin. “But that is of no matter now. What is of interest is, what are you doing here on this planet? Why have you come, and to what end are you freezing the planet’s populace?”

  The visla looked at his captors, his shoulders drawing back as he rose to his full height, head held high. There was no fear in his eyes, only defiance. “If you think for one moment I am going to––”

  A moment later, he lay dead on the ground.

  “What the hell just happened, Bob? We needed to question him! What did you do?”

  “I did nothing, Charlie. You were standing right here with me.”

  “Well, he was alive just a minute ago. So what killed him?”

  Ara bent down, sniffing the air near the visla’s body. “Kill switch,” she said with a disgusted sort. “An automatically activating suicide spell.”

  “Of course,” Bawb said. “Now it makes sense.”

  “Uh, guys? What makes sense?”

  “His reaction to us. And why he was focused on just one task while a full battle raged ar
ound him,” Bawb said. “We didn’t have the time to discern if he was an actual leader of these forces, or merely a tool.”

  “Someone that powerful? I’d bet he’d be nobody’s tool,” Charlie noted.

  “Unless that someone was even more powerful that he,” Bawb posited. “And I would wager this man was not even aware he had been saddled with a kill-switch spell. More likely, it was quietly placed upon him by whoever is really running this show. And the ability to do that means they are a caster of rare abilities.” He turned his gaze on the body at his feet. “But in any case, there will be no questioning this one. Which was likely the point of the spell.”

  Charlie looked at the staring eyes of the man now dead on the ground. He had been so cocky. So sure of himself. And now, someone even more powerful than he had snuffed his lights out in an instant. And all to keep him from talking.

  “What was he doing?” he wondered aloud.

  “He was tapping into the Ootaki hair woven within the structure of the ship. That much we are certain of,” Bawb said.

  “Yeah, I know. But I mean, to what end? Like, the entire population is already frozen, right?”

  “Yes,” Bawb agreed.

  “And they’ve shown absolutely no sign of thawing out, or whatever you call it when the spell wears off, right?”

  “Correct again,” Ara said. “I think I see where you are going with this, Charlie.”

  “I figured you would. It seems obvious that something bigger is at play here. Something that needs the Ootaki hair bound to the Asbrú’s frame to be at full-power. And that’s what this guy was doing. He wasn’t casting a new spell, or reinforcing the one that’s already here. Hell, even depleted, the hair was more than capable of maintaining the stasis hold on everyone on the planet. So what was he doing?”

  The implications were staggering. Charlie was right. The power pulled from the Ootaki hair and fueling the spell was a drop in the bucket of the golden locks’ potential, now that the original spell had been cast. But the bulk of their massive power had been spent getting the Asbrú there in the first place. Ripping a hole in space to deposit it in Earth’s atmosphere.

  “Oh, this is not good,” Ara said, shifting her weight and rushing to the downed ship.

  She sniffed deeply, picking apart the scents of the layers of spells tied to the ship’s hidden magical power source. She recognized several, having encountered variants over the previous few days, but there was something else there. Something more. Something growing rapidly stronger as the Ootaki hair greedily sucked in the planet’s sun’s energy.

  “He used his own power to spark a reaction within the Ootaki hair,” the mighty Zomoki gasped. “And now there is no stopping its absorption of your sun’s power.”

  “Right, we know the sun here supercharges Ootaki hair––and you too, for that matter.”

  “No, Charlie. This is different. The visla used himself to make the process jump into a rapid cascade of power.”

  Suddenly it was clear to the human. “He kickstarted the process with his own power. Sonofa... Okay, what does this mean, Ara? That’s gonna be an utterly massive amount of magic this thing eventually releases. Do you know what it’s for?”

  “Unfortunately, I do,” she replied. “The smell of this magic, I knew it was familiar. It just took me a while to remember.”

  “Remember what, exactly?”

  “Why I know it,” she replied. “This magic smells almost identical to the forces that brought us here as we fled the Council of Twenty. They’re using this ship to create a portal to my galaxy.”

  “Oh, shit,” Charlie said. “But is that even possible? I mean, it is, obviously, but what good is a tiny gateway? Why send a handful of ships to scout out a planet this size?”

  “Because, thanks to your sun’s unusual powers, with this much Ootaki hair, supercharged with power as this visla has done to it, the result will be a self-sustaining power source, replenishing itself instantly from your sun’s rays.”

  “So there will be no depletion of power?” Leila asked.

  “No. Or minimal, at most,” Ara replied.

  A very bad feeling settled into Charlie’s stomach. He knew what the Tslavars had been doing. What they planned to do. He turned to his friends, a horrified look on his face.

  “Guys, I know what they’re doing.”

  “What, Charlie?” Rika asked.

  “They’re not preparing for a scouting mission. They’re preparing for a full-fledged invasion.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  “How long?” Charlie asked, his face ashen. “It’s got to need time to fully charge, right?”

  Ara sniffed the air, weighing the forces at work. “A few weeks at most. Likely less.”

  “Fuck.” He sat there silently for a long moment. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “I’m afraid not. The portal powered by the Ootaki hair will open, and there is nothing we can do about it. And this is no small thing.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked, his concern growing.

  “I mean, this portal spell is massive in power. If it successfully opens, craft far larger than the Asbrú could easily pass through it. And the sun is giving it all the energy it needs.”

  Leila began pacing. “There has to be something. Can’t we mute the power somehow?”

  “Believe me, Leila, I wish it were not so, but this craft has layers upon layers of fail-safes guarding it. Complex, deadly spells designed by powerful casters. Vislas, all of them, from what I can sense. And the power being directed to the spell freezing the population is massive. And that is dwarfed by the portal spell being created.”

  “But every spell has a means to be countered. To be undone,” Leila said.

  “Of course. But we simply do not have the time to pick through all of the layers, especially with these booby-trap spells peppered throughout the casting. For something of this complexity and power it could take us months, which is likely how long it took to create this amalgam of power in the first place. And we simply do not have that long.”

  Bawb walked to the Asbrú and ran his hand along the smooth metal of its hull. “All of that effort, yet the spells have not restricted us from access to the vessel, it would seem. Most curious.”

  “There was no need,” Ara replied. “With the magic already in place, the craft is perfectly safe from meddling. So long as no one tampers with the Ootaki hair, and the spells it is feeding, those fail-safes will remain dormant. Any attempt to disrupt them, however, and the results could range from damaging to catastrophic.”

  “But we can board it. Move it. Do whatever we want, for the most part. But if we touch the magic layers we’re screwed,” Rika said.

  “More or less,” Ara said.

  Rika looked long and hard at her former ship. The craft she’d been second-in-command of before they were sucked through a wormhole, starting them off on their unlikely path that led them to this moment.

  “Can it be contained?” she finally asked. “The fail-safe spell, I mean.”

  “No. I’m afraid it is far too powerful. And so far as I can tell, even if it were possible to negate the destructive forces of the fail-safe spell and somehow keep the planet’s atmosphere from being destroyed, the act of doing so would still cause a fatal surge in one of the other spells. The one freezing the population. I cannot be certain, but it appears quite likely they would all perish in an instant.”

  “You mean in addition to the whole losing-the-atmosphere thing,” Rika grumbled. “Sonofa––”

  Bawb’s jaw flexed as he thought of Hunze, still frozen in their home. He desperately wanted a physical course of action. Something he could do to further their cause. But instead, he was powerless, just like the others.

  Charlie circled the Asbrú, taking his time as he made his way around the massive craft. It was odd, seeing something he’d spent so much time focused on, then forgotten as his life took a U-turn, only to find it in front of him once again. He walked to the doorway lea
ding into the ship’s hull, where he paused, his hand resting lightly on the doorframe.

  “Where ya going?” Rika asked.

  “I’m not really sure. But I’m out of ideas here, and I don’t know. Maybe this will jolt my brain into a flash of brilliance. Who knows, right?”

  Rika chuckled. “Yeah, a walk down memory lane and you’ll suddenly become mega brain Charlie, huh?”

  “Beats standing around. Anyway, I’ll be back soon,” he said, then stepped into the ship he was instrumental in building all those years ago. Leila watched him go, wanting to accompany him, to help soothe his agitated mind, but she knew him well enough by now to know he needed some space. Some time to think.

  Charlie inhaled deeply, the dusty smell of a craft long-abandoned in the harsh wasteland still in the air, despite the recent inhabitants who had walked these buckled hallways.

  Judging by the damage, the invading forces hadn’t done anything further to the interior of the ship since it had first landed––at least, not so far as he could tell. There were muddy bootprints, but aside from that, it all seemed the same as when they first surveyed the scene.

  Except for the buzzing feel of magic all around him, of course. That was new, but he was well aware it was the secret power store running within the ship’s walls that was giving off the trace magic.

  Charlie walked deeper into the craft, passing the remnants of the old command center, and even making a loop through the cargo bay that had once held Rika’s mech, now long abandoned to the sands of the Balamar wasteland.

  The ship was still as much a wreck as it had been when he had left it on those barren sands in a distant galaxy so long ago. Sure, the Tslavar force had rebuilt the exterior and made the ship more or less sound, but they hadn’t made even a cursory attempt at restoring the ship’s systems.

  Not that the tech-ignorant aliens could have done so if they’d wanted. Theirs was a magic-based system, and the Asbrú was not of their worlds. They couldn’t fix her, and she’d never fly again. At least, not by her own power.