Wizard Scout (Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles Book 3)

by Rodney Hartman

  Big Mike and Little Jim rushed forward together. Richard had no illusions about his fighting abilities. Either of the men could overpower him easily. They fed him occasionally, but they always kept the largest shares of food for themselves. He was always hungry, and his body was little more than skin and bones. His two ‘friends’ had weight and muscle on their side not to mention knives. Richard saw his imminent death.

  Unbidden, the Power inside Richard reached out towards the two men. Richard followed along with the flow of energy and wrapped it around the hand in which Little Mike held his knife. Richard willed the hand towards Big Jim’s chest. The blade of the knife plunged deep into the left side of the man’s chest. Blood squirted high into the air and splattered across the ceiling as well as onto Little Mike.

  The woman let out a series of bloodcurdling screams. Each scream increased in volume until Richard thought his eardrums would burst.

  As Big Jim fell to the floor, Little Mike struggled to pull his hand free. He succeeded, but his knife came free as well. Little Mike violently began moving his hand up and down as if trying to rid himself of the incriminating knife. But the knife wouldn’t come free.

  The short man’s eyes locked onto Richard. Richard saw fear in them as Little Mike shouted. The woman screamed again drowning out Little Mike’s words, but Richard saw the short man mouth the word, “You.”

  The Power within Richard was hungry. It demanded action. Richard moved the energy which still surrounded Little Mike’s hand in an upwards motion. Little Mike opened his mouth again showing yellowed and broken teeth. Little Mike’s scream merged with the woman’s and then cutoff abruptly as his hand drove the knife deep into his own throat. The woman screamed even louder. Little Mike fell and began rolling around on the floor.

  Richard noticed the reflection of flashing blue lights on the walls of the room. The door at the end of the hall burst open. Two beefy men came running inside the house carrying long rods in one hand and pistols in the other. In a moment of clarity, Richard noticed little arcs of red lightning running up and down the length of the rods.

  The woman’s screams stopped. The security team yelled something, but Richard paid them no heed. He was too busy looking at the bloodied bodies of his former friends sprawled out on the wooden floor. The realization that he’d just killed two men hit him and stole the strength from his legs. He dropped to his knees. The last thing he saw was a dark rod with little red arcs of lighting coming at his head. Then he saw nothing.

  * * *

  “Rick! Rick!” said a voice out of the darkness.

  Richard clawed his way out of his nightmare and opened his eyes.

  “Rick!” said Jerad. “Wake up, cadet.”

  Richard shook his head. Drops of sweat flew from his hair.

  “I’m awake,” Richard said. He was embarrassed. “Sorry. I must have been dreaming.”

  “Dreaming?” said Tam. “The way you were tossing and turning, it had to be one hell of a nightmare.”

  Richard turned his gaze from the concerned faces of his friends to the cabin’s sole window. Brightly colored buildings were passing by outside. The hover-tram’s speed was much slower than it had been.

  “Are we in Velounia?” Richard said in an attempt to change the subject.

  “They just announced we’ll be at the station in five minutes,” said Telsa.

  “Fine,” Richard said. “I guess we should start getting our stuff together.”

  “Oh, no,” said Tam. “You don’t get off that easy, cadet.”

  “Yeah,” said Telsa with no trace of her normal joviality. “What was that all about?”

  “It was nothing,” Richard said. “It was just a dream.”

  “Bull,” said Tam. “You’re soaked in sweat, Rick.”

  “It’s either tell us, Rick,” said Jerad, “or tell the camp shrink when we get back. Something’s wrong. Out with it.”

  “It’s nothing,” Richard repeated hoping his friends would back off. They didn’t.

  Jerad, Tam, and Telsa sat down on the bench opposite Richard. A look at their faces told him none of them would leave the cabin until they got a better answer. Richard had no desire to tell the entire secret. It was too dark to tell even his friends. But, he had to give them at least a partial truth to stem their curiosity.

  “I was dreaming about the food riots back on Earth in 3029,” Richard said. “I was caught breaking into a house by a security team and thrown in jail. The judge was going to send me to the military prison on Diajor.”

  Diajor was the Empire’s most notorious prison planet. Nothing grew on its rocky surface, and the atmosphere consisted of poison gas. Only the worst military offenders wound up there.

  “The military prison,” said Jerad. “Why there? You were a civilian weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Richard said. “But the two men I was with were apparently military deserters. I guess the judge thought I was as well.”

  “Why didn’t the other two men tell the judge you weren’t?” said Tam.

  “Uh,” Richard said. “They were dead. A woman who happened to be in the house at the time testified they’d killed each other. She told the judge I tried to help her.”

  “Still, you were caught in the house,” said Telsa who seemed engrossed in his story. “So what kept you out of prison?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Richard said. “Even with the woman’s testimony, the judge was getting ready to sentence me.”

  Jerad, Tam, and Telsa looked expectantly at Richard. But he was lost in his thoughts. He remembered that time in the courtroom as if it were yesterday. He remembered the woman pleading with the judge that he’d saved her life. He remembered the judge saying that if he was let back out on the streets, he’d just windup in more trouble. Richard remembered a large man in a military uniform bedecked with medals walking to the bench and talking to the judge.

  “Well,” said Telsa. “Don’t stop now. What did the judge do?”

  “The judge told me I had two choices,” Richard said. “I could either spend three years in the military prison on Diajor, or I could spend three years in the marines. It just so happened a marine recruiter was in the courtroom that day. I chose the marines. I’ve been in the marines ever since.”

  “I’d heard you mention you’d lived on the streets for a while,” said Jerad. “I wondered how you wound up in the marines.”

  “Well, now you know,” Richard said.

  “The marines are normally a little more selective than that,” said Jerad. “I wonder why they made an exception in your case.”

  “Beats me,” Richard said.

  The hover-tram jerked to a halt. Richard saw the hover-tram station out the cabin window.

  “Are we done playing twenty questions?” Richard said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got things to do.”

  Chapter 14 – Invasion Plans

  _____________________________________

  The dots on the hologram above the technician’s workstation formed cascading shades of multi-colored lights. After two hundred years of loose association with the physical dimension, Lord Crendemor could read the display almost as easily as the red-clothed technician sitting in front of the hologram. The half dozen red dots denoted the locations of the dreadnaughts. Yellows, oranges, and greens showed the positions of the battle cruisers, destroyers, and troop carriers. A multitude of white dots indicated the support ships carrying the supplies. Those supplies would be needed after the successful completion of the initial phase of the invasion.

  Lord Crendemor passed through the close confines of the destroyer’s control room to the automatic door on the other side of the room. The door opened at his approach. Lord Crendemor had long ago stopped being impressed with the technology of the physical dimension. It was just another form of magic as far as he was concerned.

  “Level six,” Lord Crendemor said.

  “Compliance,” came the reply through the translator on Lord Crendemor’s belt.


  The floor vibrated slightly. Lord Crendemor took the time to raise his hand and study his well-groomed nails. The white polish showed up well against the dark of his fingers. Lord Crendemor looked at his reflection in the highly-polished metal of the elevator door. He admired what he saw. Even after nearly five hundred years, he was still one of the most handsome of the dark-elf race. His waist-length white hair was full and shiny. His high cheek bones highlighted the deep black of his eyes. He’d stolen a good form when he’d spied that dark elf so many years ago. Lord Crendemor allowed himself a rare smile. Everything was coming along well. Soon, he would be the most powerful elf on Portalis, dark elf or otherwise.

  The elevator stopped and the door slid open. Lord Crendemor walked briskly down the well-lit hallway. Several humans in various colored jumpsuits hustled down the hallway as well. They flattened against the wall at his approach giving him plenty of room. The destroyer was staffed primarily by human mercenaries with a sprinkling of Crosioian officers. The humans knew better than to get in his way. The stiff-necked Crosioians were another matter. They hadn’t yet learned to respect their betters.

  After turning down two more corridors, Lord Crendemor approached a set of black double doors. Their shiny surfaces contrasted sharply with the white antiseptic look of the corridors. As Lord Crendemor drew closer, a score of short rods poked out of the walls and tracked his progress. Lord Crendemor sensed the energy being funneled to the rods in preparation for firing.

  Without slowing or speeding up, Lord Crendemor reached the door. The demon Zenthra’s idea of humor did not impress him. Despite his brags, Zenthra was the weakest of the four brother demons that were tasked with conquering the three galaxies. Zenthra would not dare attack the Dalinfaust’s emissary without provocation. Lord Crendemor went to great lengths to conduct himself in a fashion that insured Zenthra didn’t get a reason.

  The door opened, and Lord Crendemor entered. A long table with a score of cushioned chairs around it sat in the middle of the room. Only two of the chairs were occupied. A Crosioian bat-creature sat in each. A two meter high hologram display was centered over the table. The hologram currently showed the disposition of the fleet. It was the same hologram image Lord Crendemor had observed on the ship’s bridge.

  “The invasion force is nearly ready,” came the words out of the larger of the two bat creatures through Lord Crendemor’s translator.

  “Not quite,” said the voice of the Master computer. “Current calculations indicate the highest probability of success requires an additional eighteen of the special assets.”

  By the term special assets, Lord Crendemor knew Zenthra meant the specialized demons that had been gating into the physical dimension for the last six months.

  “None of our recon teams have been compromised,” said the smaller of the Crosioians. “The Empire suspects nothing.”

  “That’s not a hundred percent accurate,” said the Master computer. “Is it, Lord Crendemor?”

  The two bat creatures turned to face the dark elf. He’d been around the Crosioians often enough to recognize the sneer on their faces. They had as much love for him as he had for them.

  The image in the hologram changed form. The invasion fleet was replaced by a meter sized, disembodied head of a Crosioian. Lord Crendemor walked around the side of the table. By a trick of the hologram, the face of the disembodied head continued to face Lord Crendemor regardless of his position in the room.

  Lord Crendemor sat in a chair opposite the two Crosioians.

  “Admiral. General,” said Lord Crendemor with a nod of his head to each of the bat creatures. “Our recon last night of the Empire’s secondary teleporter was successful.”

  When it appeared one of the bat creatures was about to protest, Lord Crendemor continued. “However, one of the Empire’s cadets came close to discovering us and sounding the alarm.”

  “Yes,” said the admiral through her translator. She was the shorter of the two Crosioians. “Our scout told us as much.”

  “Our scout wanted to engage the wizard scout,” added the general who was the taller of the two.

  “Yes, she did,” Lord Crendemor said. “Our mission was to recon the airfield. We accomplished our mission. If she had engaged the cadet, our mission would have failed.”

  “My scout thought your supposed cadet might be the one who defeated our scout on Veturna last year,” said the admiral. “If so, we may all regret later that you didn’t have the courage to kill him last night. The scout on Veturna was our best. Now she is gone.”

  Lord Crendemor fought a surge of anger. He casually looked at the nails on the back of his hands.

  Their opinion of me is unimportant, he thought in an attempt to remain calm. I’m not the one blindly following a demon. You’re the fools, and you’ll die fools when Zenthra decides he no longer needs you.

  “Our mission was to recon the targets at the airfield,” Lord Crendemor said in the calmest voice he could muster. “Whether the cadet was or was not the one from Veturna does not matter. Any cadet or wizard scout still on Velos when the invasion begins will be dead shortly thereafter. Your scout will be avenged.”

  “The vaporized head of an enemy cannot be placed on a trophy wall,” said the general as she pounded her clawed fist on the table.

  Lord Crendemor ignored the outburst.

  “Our success at the airfield proved the reliability of the special assets,” Lord Crendemor said using the Crosioians’ preferred term for the dimensional-shifting demons. “The first wave of shock troops should be able to penetrate the Empire’s defenses before any alarm can be sounded.”

  “Probability of success is still below optimum,” said the Master computer who was the demon Zenthra. “The defensive shields at the spaceport are twenty-five percent more effective than those at the airfield. You will need to send your best magic user to command a new recon.”

  “I will personally accompany the recon team,” Lord Crendemor said. “The mission is too important to delegate.”

  “Negative,” replied the Master computer. “You have been assigned a different mission”

  The demon’s reply surprised Lord Crendemor. He’d heard nothing about a new mission. The recon team was scheduled to depart in less than two hours. Lord Crendemor wanted to protest, but he didn’t. It would do his standing among the Crosioians no good to be seen arguing with a computer. As far as they knew, the Master computer was their tool not vice versa. Of all the creatures in the fleet, only Lord Crendemor knew better.

  “As you say,” Lord Crendemor said.

  “Very well,” said the admiral taking the lead once more. “Once the targets at the spaceport are pinpointed, your kind’s part in this phase of the operation will be completed.”

  At the words ‘your kind’, Lord Crendemor’s lips twitched in irritation. Even after years of association, many Crosioians refused to use the term magic user or mage.

  Lord Crendemor calmed his rising anger by pinpointing the Crosioian’s link to her power reserve. The admiral had once been a scout, or so he’d been told. But the fool didn’t even know how to protect her link properly. Lord Crendemor had no doubt he could kill both the admiral and her lapdog of a general with little effort. They’d be as helpless before him as would be Silvertine’s elven lords or even the Empire’s vaunted wizard scouts. None of them knew how to protect the links to their Power reserves.

  “As you say, admiral,” Lord Crendemor said. “However, my mages will be standing by until they are needed for the invasion.”

  The admiral’s nose twitched. Lord Crendemor knew he’d scored a point. The Crosioians did not like being reminded they needed magic to supplement their technology in order for the invasion to succeed.

  “The invasion plans are complete, admiral,” said Zenthra in the voice of the Master computer. “Now if that is all, I require use of this room to brief the elf.”

  Following directions from the Master computer were so engrained in the Crosioians that neither of them pro
tested. They rose and left the room. Once the door closed behind them, the bat face in the hologram was replaced by a black-horned head. It was the head of a black dragon.

  “Is the Dalinfaust aware of my change in mission?” Lord Crendemor asked as soon as he was alone with the demon’s dragon-hologram.

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed and its face took on an evil look. “The Dalinfaust does not command this part of the plan. The physical dimension is mine to do with as I will. Once our plan is completed, and the gate is fully opened, I will control this galaxy. Every living creature in this dimension will bow to me.”

  Lord Crendemor let the demon rant. The demon Zenthra enjoyed patting itself on the back too much to be interrupted by valid concerns. Even after the successful completion of the demon’s master plan, Zenthra would only control this single galaxy in the physical dimension.

  “You look unconvinced,” said Zenthra apparently guessing Lord Crendemor’s thoughts. “Once the other parts of the tele-network come under my control, I shall rule every corner of this galaxy. Then my armies will be invincible. With the combined processing power of all the computer networks in this galaxy, I shall devise ways to cross to other galaxies. I shall become a master demon. My brothers will kneel before me in homage, as shall all living things.”

  “But in the meantime,” Lord Crendemor said patiently, “is the Dalinfaust aware of my change in mission?”

  The demon stopped its ranting. Its eyes narrowed even further. “The protection of the Dalinfaust may not reach as far as you apparently believe. Do not tempt me, elf.”

  Lord Crendemor was confident in his position. Alone, Zenthra was no match for the Dalinfaust. Zenthra would need more provocation than a mere question before deciding to risk killing him. Still, Lord Crendemor remained silent and said nothing further. He had nothing to gain from antagonizing the demon.

  After a moment, the dragon’s face morphed into the face of a dark elf.

  “As it so happens,” said Zenthra, “the Dalinfaust is the one who changed your mission. My brother is confident my part of the plan is assured. You are no longer needed here.”