Alien Arcana (Starship's Mage Book 4)

by Glynn Stewart

  He could still hear his King’s sigh.

  “Only the men and women I pick as Hands would call a murder investigation a vacation,” he pointed out. “Which perhaps says more about what I normally ask of you than anything else. Your support is also on vacation. I assume you have a plan?”

  “I will be borrowing several investigators from the MIS and a squad of Marines from Mage-Captain Jakab,” Damien confirmed. “Mage-Admiral Segal is placing an armed courier at my disposal. It has the space for twenty passengers, exosuits for the Marines, and a combat shuttle. I checked.”

  Alexander laughed.

  “All you needed to tell me was that you had a plan, Damien,” he pointed out. “You didn’t get that golden chain because I don’t trust your skills, and you’ve proven those skills again and again. Go to Andala, my young friend. See what our eyes can see of what the aliens left behind.

  “You don’t need my permission, but you have it. And my blessing. Keep me informed.”

  “There’s a weekly courier run already. I’ll send back reports via the Tau Ceti RTA.”

  “Then good luck,” Alexander told him.

  A moment of silence marked the end of the conversation, and Damien sighed. Even now, over a year later, the authority and independence that the Mage-King had bestowed on him was mind-boggling. Hands had to keep the King informed, but they didn’t exactly ask for permission as a rule.

  He still had time left on his slot and he checked his wrist-comp to make sure he had the right numbers and angles for his next transmission. Once he was sure, he channeled power into the runes and around him and spoke aloud.

  “Ardennes RTA, are you receiving?” he asked.

  A moment passed. Then two.

  “This Ardennes RTA; we confirm receipt,” the cheerful voice of the Transceiver Mage on Ardennes replied. Damien had become a Hand on that world. He’d been supposed to be an apprentice, but everything had gone very wrong, and the Hand he’d accompanied had been murdered.

  More importantly right now, however, was that Julia Amiri’s boyfriend was currently running for governor of the planet in an election that was shaping up to be functionally an acclamation, and she’d gone there to “provide moral support” to the ex-professor and ex-rebel turned politician.

  “This is Hand Damien Montgomery. Please record a message for relay to Special Agent Julia Amiri,” he said stiffly, following it up with a string of numbers that would reach her personal wrist comp.

  Another pause.

  “We are standing by to relay, my Lord Montgomery.”

  “Julia, this is Damien,” he said calmly. “This transmission is for your information only; you are not to cut your visit to Ardennes and Riordan short. There has been an incident in the Andala System requiring my specific skills.”

  That was as close as he’d come to talking about being a Rune Wright via a relay. He’d trust the Transceiver Mages to wipe the recording of his time here on Tau Ceti, but anything relayed into the normal datanets was vulnerable.

  The existence of Rune Wrights was classified at the highest level, mostly as Damien himself was the only one they knew of who wasn’t a member of the Royal Family. Surprises were handy.

  “I’ll be traveling with both Marine and Secret Service escorts,” he continued. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when you return to Tau Ceti, Julia. Tell Mikael good luck from me.”

  Chapter 4

  Mage-Lieutenant Denis Romanov waited outside Major Kennedy’s office patiently. He did everything patiently by nature, something many people found at odds with his lanky build, red hair and bright green eyes. Despite humanity’s diaspora to the stars, certain stereotypes survived—and despite his last name, Denis was from Ireland on Earth and looked it.

  “The Major will see you now,” the burly sergeant who headed the staff section for Duke of Magnificence’s Marine detachment told him.

  With a grateful nod to the noncommissioned officer, Denis stepped through the door into Major Sherry Kennedy’s office—only to stop immediately as he saw Mage-Captain Kole Jakab sitting in a chair off to the side of the Major’s desk, leaning back and watching him carefully.

  “Sir,” he said crisply, hiding any hesitancy behind protocol. He was familiar with Kennedy’s office, a relatively standard military office aboard a Protectorate warship with a denser-than-normal “I love me” wall of citations and medals.

  The comfortable chair Jakab was sprawled in hadn’t been part of the décor in the past. Neither had the chair in front of the plain metal desk, a far more comfortable seat than the normal one.

  “Get in and sit down, Romanov,” Kennedy barked. The stocky, platinum-blond commander of Duke’s Marines had a command voice Denis could only hope to one day match.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He took the indicated seat, poising on the edge and consciously keeping his back ramrod straight.

  “You’ve been running close protection for the Hand for the last two weeks,” Kennedy told him. “Your thoughts?”

  “Close protection for a man who lives on a battlecruiser is easier than a lot of VIP details I’ve been on,” the young Combat Mage said slowly. “His Secret Service detail has been generous with their time and cooperation as well; I would have expected more pushback after needing to ask for our help. I…suspect Montgomery wouldn’t allow it, though.”

  “Any problems?” she asked.

  “None,” he told her. “But things have been quiet, and I understand we’ll be turning responsibilities back over his Secret Service detail shortly.”

  “That’s been preempted,” Jakab said calmly. “How do you feel about a longer-term assignment, Lieutenant? A potentially more active one?”

  Denis glanced to Kennedy, who gestured for him to answer.

  “I go where the Corps sends me, sir,” he finally replied. “If the Marines need me to guard Montgomery, I will guard him wherever he goes.”

  “The Hand is leaving Tau Ceti on what should be a low-key, low-intensity mission,” Kennedy told him. “Hands are Hands, however, and I have the suspicion it won’t stay as low-intensity as Montgomery may think. We’re sending a squad with full heavy combat gear, including exosuits, to keep him safe.”

  “I would be honored to continue the duty, ma’am,” Denis told her. “Though I will confess…” He considered how to phrase it, only to be cut off by Jakab.

  “That it seems strange to guard a man who could wipe out your entire squad without thinking?” the Mage-Captain asked dryly. “Hands of the Mage-King are, after all, terrifyingly powerful Mages. Roughly what you were thinking, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Powerful as Montgomery is—and if you’re being assigned to his personal guard on a more long-term basis, I’ll see that you’re cleared for the footage of the Ardennes planetary command center assault—he is still human,” Jakab said grimly. “He has defenses, but he can be surprised, and if somebody manages to shoot him, he will die.

  “I don’t need to tell you that the Mage-King will be upset if we allow one of his Hands to get broken,” the Mage-Captain finished dryly. “You’re also there to provide Montgomery with a strike force at his personal command,” Kennedy pointed out. “Phenomenal cosmic power is all well and good, but he can’t take prisoners or board ships without boots on the ground. The armed courier you’ll be taking has enough space for a squad of Marines and their full gear, including exosuits, heavy weapons, and anything else you can think of in the next eighteen hours.”

  “Any particular squad I’m taking?” Denis asked. “For that matter, what about the rest of my platoon?”

  “You should only be gone a few weeks at most, and Duke won’t be out of the docks in that time,” the Major replied, with a glance at Jakab, who grimaced his agreement. “Your sergeant can handle the rest of the platoon for that long. You know your platoon best, so pick the best squad for this.

  “We will be reinforcing you either way,” she noted. “The Tau Ceti Marine base is sending over a second Combat Mage to
back you up, a Mage-Lieutenant Karina White. She’s junior to you and this is your op either way.”

  “It’s Montgomery’s op, last I checked,” Denis pointed out. “I’m in, ma’am. If we’re leaving in eighteen hours, though, I have work to do.”

  #

  The Royal Martian Navy armed courier TK-421 wasn’t much of a ship in the grand scheme of things. Larger than many of the couriers that provided mail service across the Protectorate, the ship was still only seventy meters from bow to stern, an unadorned tube of metal thirty meters across.

  It was also very clear to Damien Montgomery that Mage–Lieutenant-Commander Beata Pokorni loved every millimeter of her undersized, barely armed command. Pokorni herself was as unprepossessing as her command, a notably overweight woman with Mars-born dark skin, slanted eyes and frizzy, graying hair—but she was the senior of the six Mages aboard, excluding Damien.

  “We have four missile launchers and a single laser mounted along the keel of the ship,” she concluded as she led him into TK-421’s simulacrum chamber. The magically perfect liquid silver model of the starship floating in the center of the chamber—the exact center of the ship—was the key that made TK-421 a starship. With it, a trained Jump Mage like Pokorni or Damien himself could teleport the ship a full light-year in an instant.

  Like most military ships, TK-421’s bridge and simulacrum chamber were the same space, with computer consoles looking oddly out of place against the spherical, rune-encrusted screen that made up the simulacrum chamber’s walls.

  From here, Pokorni could jump the ship, engage with its weapons, and if someone was actually stupid enough to attack a Navy armed courier, demonstrate the distinct and terrifying difference between a ship like TK-421 and a regular courier.

  A civilian courier had a jump matrix, a set of silver runes woven throughout the entire hull that amplified a small-scale teleport to the point where it could cross stars. A warship or an armed courier like Pokorni’s ship had an amplifier matrix, capable of amplifying any spell. From the simulacrum chamber of her courier, the Mage-Lieutenant-Commander could utterly destroy any ship foolish enough to approach too closely.

  “She’s an impressive ship,” Damien told her. “I’ll admit I’ve never been aboard one of our armed couriers before. Destroyers and cruisers, mostly.”

  “My understanding is that HQ decided that if they wanted an armed ship, they’d send a destroyer,” Pokorni replied. “They can only build three ships like TK for the price of a destroyer, and if they’ve got to come up with eighteen Mages anyway…”

  Damien laughed.

  “Budget isn’t irrelevant,” he noted, “but a courier crew’s worth of Jump Mages is harder to come by.”

  A strong, practiced Jump Mage could jump after four hours’ rest. Once. Maybe twice. Navy and Guild regulation called for limiting jumps to every eight hours outside of emergencies, so a ship with a single Mage only traveled three light-years a day.

  A courier with six Mages aboard traveled eighteen light-years in the same day, putting, for example, the fourteen-light-year-distant Andala System within a day’s journey of Tau Ceti.

  “Is there anything you need to be ready to leave on schedule?” he asked. “I know Navy couriers tend to get most of what they need, but nobody tends to argue when a Hand shows up on their comm screen.”

  “We are good to go,” she replied. “The last of Mage-Lieutenant Romanov’s people’s equipment from Duke is arriving aboard your assault shuttle in fifteen minutes. Once that’s here, we can leave whenever you want.”

  “Good.” Damien smiled, actually impressed. That was two full hours ahead of when he’d expected to be able to leave. “If we’re ready early, head out as soon as we are,” he ordered. “While I don’t have the impression the situation on Andala is likely to deteriorate, but I’d still like to be on site as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll make it happen, my lord,” Pokorni promised. “Would you like to join me in the simulacrum chamber for the first jump?”

  “I would,” he confirmed cheerfully. “I’ll even promise not to try to make the jump myself!”

  #

  It ended up taking them over an hour to get everything aboard, which was a surprise to no one at all.

  The Royal Martian Navy was a professional, well-funded, well-respected military force—but it was also a peacetime military. Things went wrong.

  In this case, Damien found out about the addition of Mage-Lieutenant White to his bodyguards roughly two minutes before he’d been about to order TK-421 out. In the end, her shuttle had made rendezvous and delivered the young Mage—now the ninth aboard the courier, which made the little ship probably the highest concentration of Mages in the Protectorate—with an hour to spare before the original planned departure time.

  “Lieutenant White reports that she is aboard and says, I quote, ‘Thanks for waiting for me,’” Pokorni’s executive officer, holding down what would be the tactical officer’s console on a ship with a larger crew, reported. He was a white-haired Mage-Lieutenant, noticeably old for his rank even in a peacetime Navy, which led Damien to wonder at the older man’s story.

  “The shuttle has detached and we are clear of umbilicals from Tau Ceti Orbital,” he continued. “My lord, ma’am, we are clear to depart.”

  Pokorni glanced over at Damien but he gestured for her to continue. TK-421 was her ship. He was simply a glorified passenger with a few gold trinkets.

  “Take us out,” she ordered. “On line for the Andala System, fifteen gravities.”

  With six Mages as part of the crew, courier ships could afford the time and energy to maintain extremely powerful gravity runes. Most civilian ships couldn’t afford any and either used a constant one-gravity acceleration or rotating sections to provide a semblance of “down” to their passengers when not under way.

  Navy ships maintained gravity runes capable of offsetting up to ten gravities of acceleration. Both Navy and civilian couriers, however, had the manpower to maintain even stronger runes. Those allowed them to accelerate faster and carved hours and potentially even days off the time needed to reach a space they could jump from.

  It would take a destroyer or cruiser three hours to be clear enough of Tau Ceti’s suns and planets to jump. A courier made the same trip in two and a half hours.

  They were quiet hours, and Damien spent them on the bridge with Pokorni’s crew, getting a feel for the people responsible for keeping him alive through the depths of space. The trip was less than a day each way, but taking deep space for granted was an easy way to end up dead.

  Pokorni’s people were competent enough. They weren’t the finely oiled machine of Mage-Captain Jakab’s bridge crew aboard Duke of Magnificence, but few ships were. Jakab had led his people into battle repeatedly while acting as Damien’s transportation and Duke was likely now the most battle-experienced crew in the Royal Martian Navy.

  If Jakab’s well-honed machine was a five, Pokorni’s people were a two—but so was most of the Navy!

  By the time they reached the point where the influence of the system’s masses was low enough to be safe to jump, Damien was relatively content with the crew of the courier. All he needed them to do, after all, was not break the ship during fourteen jumps.

  “Gravity scanners report we are clear of influences,” the XO reported.

  Damien watched quietly from the back of the room as Pokorni stepped up to the liquid silver model of the ship at the center of the room and placed her hands on it. It was still a novelty to him to watch someone else jump a starship.

  With his Sight, he could see the exact moment that the runes inlaid into the Jump Mage’s palms made contact with the blank spots on the simulacrum meant for them. It was like a circuit closed, and suddenly, power thrummed to the ship in a way that only he could hear.

  He could See and feel the other Mage channel energy, focusing it in just this way, just this angle…and then release it.

  There was a flash of both light and nothing, and then
TK-421 was a light-year away, on its way to Andala.

  Chapter 5

  Damien spent most of the trip studying the information that had been available in Tau Ceti on the Andala Expedition. Launched three years ago, two years after a corporate survey looking for mineral deposits had found something very different, the Expedition was led by one Dr. Johannes Kael and had already produced at least fifty papers of various degrees of importance.

  The Hand had a university degree, a minor and three years of focused postgraduate training under the Mage-King himself. It took him less than an hour to skim the papers sufficiently to work out which fourteen actually contained useful information.

  So far as the Expedition could tell, the facility had been calmly closed up between two hundred and fifty and three hundred years before, during the Eugenicist War between Earth and occupied Mars. There were no bodies or even—strangely—images of the occupants, so they had no idea what the aliens had looked like.

  The absence of any seating arrangements recognizable to humans suggested that the creatures had been at least different from humans, but analysis of the interior of the facility also suggested that they’d breathed the same air, seen on roughly the same wavelengths of light, and needed spaces only slightly larger than humans.

  And, in three years of study, that was basically every piece of conclusive data Kael and his people had. There were a lot of guesses and qualifiers in the documents Damien had but nothing solid. The aliens had removed a lot of tech and destroyed much of what they hadn’t removed in place.

  Until Kurosawa had broken into the sealed lower levels, there’d also been no evidence of magical use in the facility. Legatus had put up a good chunk of the funding for the Andala Expedition in the hopes of finding the UnArcana World’s holy grail: an FTL drive that didn’t require Mages.