Star-Born Mage

by David Estes

  “I know he would. I’m just asking whether there’s a chance we’ve got it wrong.” Vee raised a hand before Minnow could interrupt. “I know what you’re going to say. I’m biased. I want the father of my daughter to be a standup guy, even if he’s an alien spy sent to help destroy our galaxy. Well, yes, of course I do. But I’m also seeing clearly. I’ve hated his guts for a long time. You know that. I’m not being irrational. I know Dacre. He didn’t cheat on me—I should’ve known he would never do that. Yeah, he’s caught up with some shady allies, but that doesn’t mean his intentions are shady too.”

  Minnow said nothing.

  “Say something,” Vee said.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Nothing. You told me to say something. That’s all I have to say.”

  “Meaning…”

  “Meaning I’m with you, Vee. I’m always with you. I’m your partner, remember? I got your back. No matter what. So if you want to ask questions first and fire mag-cannons second, that’s what we’ll do. And I’ll watch Miranda like an Arcosian pterosawr. If she tries to play us, I’ll turn her into a smoldering heap of Centaurian ash.”

  Finally, Vee smiled. “Dreams really do come true,” she said.

  “Exactly. Now can I get a temporary stitch-job and get outta bed? I need some aura.”

  Vee did too. Badly.

  Layla’s voice came over the ship’s speakers. Vessel spotted twenty-six kilometers ahead, as the crow flies.

  “Stay here and rest,” Vee said, already running from the room.

  “Not a chance,” Minnow said, his broad feet slapping to the floor.

  Chapter 36

  And they fall

  Tramone’s supervisor wouldn’t listen to him. He’d tried to reason with her, to explain. She’d told him to remain vigilant and update him every hour, but he heard the falseness in her words. Despite the evidence right in front of her eyes, she thought it was a glitch in the radar system. An anomaly.

  Those missing stars and planets? They’ll reappear any second, like they were never gone.

  Tramone wished she was right, but knew she wasn’t.

  He glanced over his shoulder surreptitiously, and then from side to side. No one was paying attention to him. They were lost in the galactosphere and their pointless games—games Tramone had once found meaning in. Purpose.

  Not anymore. Now he had a different purpose.

  He took a deep breath.

  Counted to ten.

  Counted to five.

  Counted to ten again.

  And then opened a screen he was only supposed to access in an emergency. Entered the password he’d been made to memorize when he’d started this dead-end job. Paused. Tapped ‘SUBMIT QUERY’ and waited, his heart pounding its way through his chest from the inside.

  8.3 seconds later he got a response:

  Is this a joke?

  No. Sending you my data now. Tramone had all the files ready. The data he’d collected. His estimates based on the data. The countdown: One day, twenty-two hours, thirty-one minutes, twelve seconds. Eleven, ten, nine…

  Time passed. The countdown continued. Five minutes. Ten.

  Tramone manually refreshed his screen, though auto-refresh was activated. The connection was still strong. And then:

  Standby for direct link to AC Martin…

  Tramone’s eyes widened. AC as in…Archchancellor? He glanced back at his supe, who was now staring in his direction, her brow furrowed in a frown. She knows, he thought, his eyes darting back to his screen, where a new dialogue box had appeared with the word “SECURE” at the top in bold red typeface.

  This is AC Martin. Thank you for contacting the Alliance SecureSphere. Your service is appreciated. My team has performed a cursory review of the data you sent us. We agree this is a concern.

  Footsteps behind him. Tramone twisted his head and saw his supe making her way around the line of desks in the center of the room, her eyes glued to him. Her frown was deeper now. He started to stand, but she said, “Sit down, tech,” so he remained seated. His heart pounded. His shirt was stuck to his skin from his sweat. He felt hot all over. He tried to hide the dialogue box behind a game, but the box kept popping back to the front as the AC continued typing:

  Here is what will happen next: my people will take you into custody, for your own protection.

  “What is this?” Tramone’s supe said over his shoulder, squinting at his screen. Other Tech-Heads were looking now, too, probably thankful for a distraction from their mundane jobs, when every day typically looked the same as the last.

  Tramone didn’t look at his supervisor this time, reading every word as it appeared.

  Prepare for data wipe. Our audio and video records show that only you and your supe have seen the data, is that correct? You need not type, just speak the answer.

  “I—I think so,” Tramone said. Had any of the other Tech-Heads seen his screen? One of those directly to his left or right, perhaps? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t be certain. Should he tell her?

  Good, the AC typed. More footsteps, heavy and urgent, and someone screamed. Tramone turned around just in time to see the beam of blue light sizzle into his supe’s forehead. Her eyes went wide with surprise, then vacant. Then they disappeared completely as her head became ash. Her headless body slumped to the floor amidst a shower of ash and congealed drops of blood.

  Tramone’s entire body was shaking and he instinctively raised his hands above his head as the soldiers ran toward him. There were dozens of them, clad in Alliance red, toting high-powered laser rifles. Don’t kill them, he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

  More screams. More lasers scorching the air. Headless bodies dropped, one by one. And all around the circular space, radar screens turned to static and then black nothingness.

  I’m sorry, Tramone said, but only in his mind, his lips quivering as tears streaked down his cheeks.

  “Come with me, Tramone,” a voice said. One of the soldiers held a gloved hand out to him. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. You’ve done well.”

  He finally managed a word. “Well?”

  “Yes. You did the right thing.”

  “Right?” What was right? What was wrong? Dead. They were all dead. He hadn’t been friends with them. Not even acquaintances. He didn’t know any of their names and he was certain they didn’t know his. And yet seeing them like this, it felt…so wrong. Alive one minute and gone the next. Taken for no reason at all. “They didn’t even know anything,” he said, his hands shaking at his sides. He could smell burning. Screams lit up his memory like red-hot flares.

  “We couldn’t take any chances.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “You’re a hero, Tramone. The Archchancellor wants to meet with you in person. She wants your help. Something is coming. You warned us. There’s not much time. Now, please, come.”

  Though the words were gentle and implied he had a choice, there was the sharpness of a military order behind them.

  Tramone pushed off the back of his chair to get to his feet, but his legs were like rubber, giving way beneath his weight. Strong arms caught him, lifted him, and then he was flying, flying to another place, born on magic and wings and all the things he’d never known in real life, but only in his dreams and the galactosphere games that had once meant so much to him and now meant

  Nothing.

  ~~~

  He flew through space and time, seeking adventures in the farthest reaches of the universe, well beyond the bounds of the Godstar Galaxy. Each time he saved the universe, he rejected the gratitude of the billions, for he had more work to do, more villains to battle.

  Tramone awoke with a start, and immediately knew he was no longer in his tiny bunk.

  He remembered everything that sleep had helped him to forget.

  He knew his life would be changed forever.

  To his left was a viewport, and though the stars beyond the glass barely moved, h
e had a sense of traveling at a great speed. Not hyperspeed, which he’d only experienced once on his way to the outpost where he’d lived and worked for so long, and yet many thousands of kilometers per hour.

  He turned to his right to find dozens of soldiers strapped into rough seats. The familiar one who’d caught him before he’d fallen turned and said, “We’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  The man’s words made no sense. The post he’d been assigned to was lightyears away from civilization. How long had he been asleep? His confusion must’ve shown on his face, because the soldier said, “Sixteen hours have passed. We left hyperspace an hour ago. We’re in the center of the galaxy now. The Council has been convened. They want to hear what you have to say before they make a decision.”

  Sixteen hours? But that meant the countdown was less than a day and a half. That giant…thing…was almost upon them. “I—I don’t know anything,” Tramone stuttered. His voice was raspy, his mouth exceptionally dry. The soldier handed him a canteen. He took a swig, expecting water but getting something far sweeter, the liquid sliding easily down his throat. “Aura?” he said, immediately feeling the giddiness that came along with the strong substance.

  “It will help you relax.”

  His whole body felt like it was floating now. He’d never been a big drinker, but when he had it had always been watered-down stuff. Ten or five proof at most. He’d never felt like…this. He looked down, expecting to find himself hovering in midair. Instead, he was flush with the bed, having not moved at all. “Whoa,” he said.

  The soldier laughed. “Never had pure before? Once you try it you’ll have trouble going back to the weaker stuff.”

  Tramone wanted more, but the soldier had already taken the canteen back. What had he been trying to say before? He couldn’t remember. He wanted to dance. Why wasn’t there any music?

  The stars out the viewport were brighter now. Sparkling like multifaceted crystals. Brilliant. Breathtaking. He tried to touch them, but they danced away. His hand went through the window, glowing under the starlight. He extended it further, reaching across lightyears to grab those stars. Always they were out of reach, spinning now, spiraling around and around and around…

  “Ungh!” he gasped, sitting up, his heart racing, his head pounding.

  “Whoa there, buddy,” the soldier said, placing a firm hand on his chest and pushing him back onto his pillow. “We’ve just arrived. Gotta wait a minute and then we’ll be off. How ya feeling?”

  He felt…ugh. “Head hurts. Like I was hit by a space cruiser.”

  A chuckle. “I’ve been there. Take this.” The man handed him a small pink pill and a cup of what Tramone hoped was water.

  “What is it?” He vowed never to ingest anything again without asking that question.

  “Pain meds. For the headache. And water. I swear it. Can’t have you loopy when you appear before the Alliance Council.”

  “Oh my godstars, oh my godstars, oh my godstars…” Tramone said. His chest was tight, and he felt like his breath was running away from him.

  “Hey, breathe,” the soldier said. “And take the pill. It will help.”

  Tramone tried to push the pill between his lips, but his fingers felt like someone else’s. The capsule squirted between them and clinked to the floor, bouncing beneath the bed. He remembered his supe’s head as it transformed to ash. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay. We’ve got plenty.” The man produced another pink pill. “Open up.”

  Tramone did as he was told, and the soldier placed the pill on his tongue. Tramone managed to get some liquid—it tasted like water—past his lips, though a good portion spilled down his front.

  He swallowed. His head throbbed, tha-bump, tha-bump, tha-bump, and then stopped.

  The man smiled. “Military grade. Good stuff, eh? Saved my ass more times than I can count after a big night.”

  Tramone nodded. He felt better. The anxiety he’d felt a moment earlier had passed too.

  “C’mon. We’re already late.”

  The space was empty—the other soldiers had already filed off the small ship. He followed the soldier past the rows of seats, along a narrow corridor and to an exit facing to the left just before the cockpit.

  He stepped outside onto a metal hoverplatform. Wind whipped through his hair. The world around him was dark—night. Far beneath him, thousands of lights sparkled like fallen stars. A great city, dense and packed, sprawling in all directions. “Is this the…”

  A massive winged creature swooped past, startling him and stealing the rest of his sentence. The soldier grabbed him by the elbow before he could topple over. “It’s just a pterosawr. Generally harmless, unless provoked or protecting their young. And yes, this is the Capital.” The platform began to move, and Tramone would’ve lost his balance again if not for the man’s hand on his elbow. He watched the huge bird glide away, angling over the city. “You’re on top of the Council Dome.”

  Tramone felt as if he might as well be atop the world. The wind buffeted him, and all the fallen stars were beneath him. The shimmering glass edges of the massive dome he’d only ever seen on the holo-news fell away on all sides.

  Arcos, Tramone thought. The city of cities. Shortly after the Alliance had been formed, they’d decided to build their stronghold here, at the core of the galaxy, with equal access to all its nooks and crannies.

  The hover-platform reached a permanent landing with a set of silver doors on the far side. They opened automatically, and the soldier ushered him inside. A deck of blinking lights awaited, and the man chose one labeled ‘1AS’.

  “Where are you—”

  “You have nothing to worry about, Tramone. You’ve done everything right. But now you must testify before the Council.” The lift hummed to life, moving so smoothly Tramone barely felt it.

  “I don’t understand. It was all in my report.”

  The soldier said nothing. He watched the holo-display, which was showing an ad for a sleek new hover-car, which was apparently better because a pair of gorgeous, half-clad Bronzian women were running their fingertips along the frame.

  At the top of the display, a series of number/letter combinations flashed by: 47A, 46B, 45C… Oh. Tramone remembered something from watching a Council session on the holo-news. The various Vice Chancellors from each of the planets within the Godstar Galaxy were given a ‘seat’ at the Council based on the population they governed. The lower the seat number, the greater the population. The letters were simply the first letter of each planet. ‘A’ for…Archimedes! Tramone thought. It was a smaller planet with few residents, mostly scientists. It was also a hot tourist spot because of the strange flora and fauna, and the changing color of the ocean. Therefore ‘B’ must be Bronzea or Bellonia—Tramone wasn’t certain of either planet’s population. But what was 1AS?

  The countdown continued as Tramone puzzled over the situation. His entire body felt numb from the medication he’d received, but at least his head wasn’t pounding anymore. He felt almost…invincible, though he knew that wasn’t true.

  The display had reached 10R amidst an ad for a cologne guaranteed to attract a lover when Tramone realized what 1AS stood for. The ‘1’ was obviously the planet with the largest population, which of course was ‘Arcos’. And the ‘S’ stood for ‘Speaker,’ the name given to the Archchancellor herself.

  “I can’t do this,” Tramone said, feeling his legs go rubbery again.

  “You don’t have a choice,” the soldier said without looking at him. Again, there was no sharpness in his tone, and yet the command was there. Refuse and pay the price. You saw what happened to the others.

  Tramone said nothing, clutching a handrail to stay on his feet. A voice droned from the speaker as the countdown reached 5. Motion sickness is common. Please accept a complimentary balancer tab. Place it under your tongue. You will feel better in three seconds or less.

  Tramone snatched the paper-thin tab that popped from a slit in the wall and st
uffed it under his tongue. It was light and minty, and worked as advertised. The nausea passed, and strength returned to his legs. His stomach, however, continued to flutter with butterfly wings.

  The lift stopped, and the door opened with a pleasant chime.

  Bright lights blinded him and Tramone was forced to shield his eyes with one hand.

  There was silence for a heartbeat, then two, and then…

  “Tech Tramone—welcome. I am Archchancellor Martin. We’ve been expecting your arrival. Thank you for coming.” The voice was as loud as thunder, rumbling throughout the space and echoing off the walls and ceiling.

  The soldier shoved him forward where he blinked, slowly removing his hand from his face as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the enormous Council Dome. He stood on a dark, marble hover-platform near the top of the dome. Spread out to the sides and beneath him were dozens of other hover-platforms, each full to the brim with the Vice Chancellors and their retinue. All heads were craned in his direction. Watching. Waiting.

  Directly in front of him was a woman he’d seen on the galactosphere a million times. Her jet-black hair was formed into a dragon’s tail atop her head, each spike and barb formed perfectly, not a single hair out of place. She wore a dark, well-pressed suit with one empty buttonhole at the top, which revealed a slender, pale neck. Her eyes were bright and welcoming. “There is nothing to be afraid of,” she said.

  “Okay,” Tramone said, though he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. Though his stomach had been somewhat settled by the balancer tab, he was very much afraid.

  “Step forward and tell us what you saw while manning the Space Station Delta.” The way she said it made it seem like he’d done something heroic, like he was the only one up there, and not one of hundreds. Hundreds who were now dead. His stomach churned, and he fought off the bile rising in his throat.

  Tramone’s brain began to work again. She’s buttering me up. He realized her every act had been part of a strategy. Killing the others on the space station. Scaring him half to death. The liquid aura. The medication. The auspicious welcome.