Mage Hunter

By Vincent Trigili

Lyshell is a super warrior. He represents the best that technology can produce in the face of the growing threat from magi, but he shelters a secret so deep that even he does not know it. While he searches for himself, the Cyborg Nation is making a move to grab power and threaten the foothold the Wizard Kingdom has achieved in the Phareon Region.

Can Lyshell find himself in time to save what is left of his humanity and stop the cyborgs, or will the very technology he depends on enslave him?

The Lost Tales of Power is an open-ended series of Sci-Fi/Fantasy books set in a vast multiverse featuring a mixture of traditional fantasy and science fiction elements.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vincent Trigili
• Release date: Nov 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463248935

Vincent Trigili

The Lost Tales of Power is a sci-fi fantasy cross over series written by Vincent Trigili. Vincent is a graduate student at Liberty University, and presently holds undergraduate degrees in Math and Computer Science. Currently, he is working as a senior software developer at Liberty University. Vincent owns and runs the highly popular astronomy forums, Our Dark Skies, and also maintains the associated Facebook page. He has published several astronomy journals, calendars, blog articles, poetry, and photo books over the years and now turns his hand to fiction. The worlds described in The Lost Tales of Power series were born out of Vincent’s long history of creating role playing games in the old pen and paper tradition. He uses the rich history of those worlds he created to imagine an entirely new world for this series. Vincent uses his exposure and history with science and technology to keep the stories in the realm of the possible while balancing that with an eye for fantasy. The early books in the series take place in a futuristic universe that has recently been discovered by a medieval realm; later books in the series will take place in either realm, or perhaps a realm that has yet to be discovered. All of the books are intended to be roughly equivalent to the movie rating PG. This means any teenager or adult should be comfortable reading them, but some of the material, themes and descriptions may be unsuitable for smaller children. Parents are advised to read the books themselves before deciding if their child should be exposed to the contents of the novels.

Book preview

Time Line So Far

IE = Imperial Era (similar to BC, counts backwards)

EM = Era of Magic

12/01/01 IE — Enemy of an Enemy starts

01/20/02 EM — Enemy of an Enemy ends

02/01/02 EM — The Academy starts

08/30/42 EM — The Academy ends

05/15/55 EM — Rise of Shadows starts

12/30/58 EM — Rise of Shadows ends

01/31/59 EM — Resurgence of Ancient Darkness starts

03/15/59 EM — The Sac’a’rith starts

08/11/62 EM — Spectra’s Gambit starts

10/31/62 EM — The Sac’a’rith ends

01/25/63 EM — Resurgence of Ancient Darkness ends

02/01/64 EM — Sac’a’rith: Rebirth starts

08/25/64 EM — Sac’a’rith: Rebirth ends

01/01/65 EM — Spectra’s Gambit ends

02/01/65 EM — Mage Hunter starts

07/06/67 EM — Mage Hunter ends

1

02-01-0065 — Lyshell

Atall, lanky man walked by without noticing me. Hunched over and wearing nondescript clothing, he shuffled his feet, stayed with crowds and spoke as little as possible. He passed through the security checkpoint without raising any suspicion. Few people noticed him, and anyone who did forgot him the moment he passed out of sight.

To the trained eye he was trying very hard not to stand out; to anyone else he was virtually invisible. To the trained purely organic eye that is. To my enhanced left eye, he was completely invisible. There was no trace of him on any wavelength; using enhanced vision, he simply did not exist.

A smile cracked my lips. Others told me I was a fool for fighting to keep one eye unenhanced, but they were wrong. For my line of work, there was no better instrument of detection than a pure organic eye. He could hide from sensors, security checkpoints and my enhanced eye, but a normal eye could see him without any problems.

I used the image from my organic eye and uploaded it into the Empire’s datanet. Within nanoseconds the facial reconciliation algorithms returned a positive hit. Another score for my normal eye.

Renegade mage spotted. Suspect has cleared spaceport security and is heading towards gate 1225C. Suspect is considered highly dangerous, I sent across the security network and included a recent photograph of the suspect.

Understood. We’ll contain the area, came the reply.

Requesting assistance of any registered magi in the area for the capture, I sent back and waited.

I was dressed as a maintenance worker, and no one paid me any heed as I walked right around security and into the spaceport. Had they stopped me my ID would have cleared, but security was lax here on the capital planet. One did not need to be a magus to bypass security, merely confident enough to walk around it.

When I was past the checkpoint, I followed the renegade through the station. Although he was still doing best to blend in, his heart rate was accelerating and he was looking around more frequently. Some internal instinct must have told him he was in trouble and given him that feeling of being watched or followed.

Magi assistance is unavailable at this time, came an automated message across datanet.

Explain, I sent back.

No resources are within range.

I’d expected this, but I had to go through the proper procedure or risk disciplinary action. I had an automated script written for my response, which was to file a formal complaint about the lack of resources available. I fired it off and tried not to think about it too much. It would distract me, and that could be deadly when facing a mage.

I was confident I wouldn’t need assistance for this capture, but it served as yet another opportunity to point out the failings of the system. Hopefully, if enough complaints rolled in someone would do something about it. Unlikely, but it was all I could do.

As the renegade moved towards the back of the spaceport, port security was quietly emptying the area and securing the exits. A magus could teleport away, but only if he had line of sight. Windows were being shuttered and blinds were being erected. When he reached the gate, he’d know he was cornered; at that point he would became dangerous.

I stopped and stripped off my maintenance overalls, exposing my black Imperial security force uniform. The need for stealth had passed, and it was time to make a strong first impression. There was a chance that this wouldn’t end in a fight: a twenty-seven per cent chance. Not much, but one could hope.

Engage combat level one.

Instantly my vision changed, as a tactical combat display overlapped my field of view. My heart rate increased and low levels of stimulants were released into my bloodstream. Many agents stayed at level one at all times so that they could be ready for action, but that ran the risk of the body developing resistance to the stimulants, and the long-term risk of running at that heightened level was unclear.

I followed him around the final bend. When he was completely blocked off, I called out, Citizen!

He froze in place.

Citizen, please present your identification for verification of compliance with the mandatory registration law, I said. All citizens who were magi were required to register, in the same way as citizens who owned any weapons. There was widespread resistance to this law, and a good portion of my time was spent tracking down known offenders like this one and attempting to convince them to comply peacefully. There was no reasonable hope of compliance, but the law demanded he be given a fair chance, so he’d get it.

He turned to me and sneered. I refuse to comply with forced registration.

The chance of a peaceful resolution fell to thirteen percent.

Citizen, you don’t have that option. All magi must register. Please come with me and I’ll escort you to a place of registration, I responded. This was a pointless exercise, but procedures were procedures.

He spat and then cast a lightning bolt at me. I smiled. I had his profile, and I already knew everything he could do. The lightning hit my armored exoskeleton and dissipated. I activated the magnetic locks in my feet, firmly attaching myself to the floor in anticipation of his next attack.

Citizen, this is your only warning. Stand down, I ordered.

The chance of a peaceful resolution fell to three per cent.

He cursed and threw his hands forward. I felt a force slam into my chest as he attempted to throw me back with telekinesis. The magnetic locks held me in place, and he went flying back instead.

Magi could summon great power, but they were still forced to work in the natural world. This meant that if a push failed to move me and he didn’t have a good anchor, he was thrown back by the same force. It was no different from me pushing hard against a wall; either the wall moves or I do.

He was not prepared for my strength and lost his concentration as he flew backwards. Freed from the push, I disengaged my magnetic locks and chased him down the hall. He hit the floor hard but got to his feet before I reached him. His hand slipped inside his jacket and started to pull out a long, thin stick.

Wand, I realized. Before he could draw it out completely I reached him and fired off a side kick, hitting his hand with exactly the right amount of force to shatter all the bones. They could be regrown, but there’d probably be a complaint filed against me for excessive use of force. Again.

He fell back, screaming in pain. Good; maybe that’d encourage him to comply.

Citizen, you have failed to comply with the mandatory registration law and have attacked an officer of the law. I am — Before I could finish my statement, something lifted me and threw me back.

I spun over in the air and hit the ground feet first. My nanotech-reinforced skeleton easily absorbed the shock, allowing me to land with grace. A primitive would probably have broken at least one leg.

Seven men in robes appeared around the fallen renegade with their backs to him, creating a wall. Each of them had a staff and took on a defensive posture. They moved with speed and precision in perfect formation.

Engage combat level four, I sent to my internal network. I came alive as stimulants pumped through my body and pain centers were shut down. A magnetic field pulsed around me and every sensor was on full. Data filled my screen, and my internal computer network was crunching combat scenarios using game theory to find the best plan of attack. I came alive. A powerful desire filled me to act, and act decisively.

Red alert! Requesting emergency reinforcements! Seven trained magi are defending the suspect! I sent over datanet.

Help en route. ETA five minutes, came the automated reply.

It was my turn to curse. Seven trained magi could do a lot of damage in five minutes. This wouldn’t end well. My processors crunched through millions of scenarios looking for one that limited collateral damage, but I knew that’d be fruitless. There was no way a battle involving this many magi would go well.

The port security rushed in carrying energy shields. They quickly set up and leveled blasters at the magi. Those personal energy shields were Class Five tech and should give them some protection. When the shooting started, men would die and the building would be severely damaged. I cursed under my breath and prepared for the worst.

I walked towards the magi. If I could get close, my superior speed should give me the advantage in close quarters. Perhaps I could contain the fight to a small area and keep the attention on myself. I could be repaired, but primitives that composed security forces were made of less sturdy stuff.

An eighth mage appeared in front of me and called out, Halt!

Whoever you are, stand down. I have no quarrel with you, I said. Lightning crackled around my body as my cybernetic implants prepared for attack. I did not know what kind of mage he was, but the most common were elementalists and fire was their most likely specialization. My cybernetic mind raced through millions of probabilities, but there was insufficient data to determine the best course of action.

Officer, we have no wish to quarrel with you; we just came to collect this man, and now we’ll be on our way.

Why? I asked. If I could keep him talking until help arrived, that might shift the balance enough to find a peaceful resolution. More likely the situation would explode as more magi arrived.

He betrayed Master Henrick, but that is not your concern, he said.

Yes, it is. That man is a citizen of the Empire and therefore my responsibility. You must let me take him into my custody, and your Master Henrick can file an official complaint about him with my office.

That won’t happen, he said. Then a gate opened in the center of the ring of magi; they broke the circle, picked up the renegade and charged through the gate.

I leapt into motion, moving ten times faster than any primitive, but it was not fast enough. The mage in front of me threw up some kind of field between us. I stopped my charge just before hitting it. It was some kind of energy barrier, and my sensors quickly surmised that even my enhanced strength wouldn’t break it. I’d need to disrupt its pattern to bring it down.

Farewell, officer, and please don’t try to track us down. That would be unwise, said the mage as he followed the last of the other seven through the gate. Once he was through, the gate closed, and the barrier in front of me collapsed.

Moments later another gate opened and three Imperial magi charged out.

You’re too late; they took a hostage and left via a gate, I snarled at them.

One of them sneered at me, but they turned around and went back out through the gate.

I used another automated script to fire off a complaint about the slow response time, and then one about the insubordination. This was getting very tiresome.

2

02-02-0065 — Lyshell

The next morning, I was summoned to the office of my commanding officer. I steeled myself to be reamed out over my failure to bring in the renegade, and the endangerment to citizens caused by the engagement with eight unknown magi. I knew there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome. I’d followed procedures to the letter of the law but had still failed to bring in the suspect, so I’d hear about it.

I made my way through the overcrowded corridors that were the only safe method of travel on the capital planet. If the planet had ever been habitable, it had long since ceased to be. The size and orbital position suggested it might have been, but the atmosphere was toxic to all known forms of life. Many people repeated stories of a much more hospitable planet, but the only life here was contained in massive biodomes linked by transit tubes.

The capital planet was still the center of power for the Empire, which occupied a much smaller section of the galaxy since the coming of the magi but still held most of the population. This led to massive overcrowding throughout the controlled space, and there were rumors that the Emperor would soon move to secure some contested space near its borders in an attempt to house its population. As it was, all immigration was halted.

Imperial policy dictated that all employees had to use mass transit to get around, unless there was a compelling reason not to. The citizens were also urged to use mass transit, but despite intense marketing campaigns many of them still preferred their private shuttles. Therefore government employees were supposed to set a visible example of the proper protocols. It was just another way in which policy made workers like myself more like second-class citizens than official representatives of the law. Of course, my opinion didn’t matter; rules were rules, so I rode mass transit, well aware that others were less adherent to the rules.

Riding the transit was always an adventure, as people’s response to my uniform was as varied as the stars in the sky. Some hated, some respected and others feared it. No matter what their response, I had to be polite and respectful; and if something happened, I’d give my life to protect them. That is what the law demanded and that is what I’d do.

This time, when I climbed into the passenger car I found it nearly full of families. It was after the typical morning commute for workers, so most of these must have had the day off. I headed to the back of the car and took a standing spot, leaving the seats for citizens as per policy and giving myself a good view of the entire car.

As the car pulled out of the station I discreetly scanned the crowd, not expecting to find anything, but I had spent too long in the field to be careless. Each face in the group was uploaded to datanet and matched against known criminal elements. No matches. Good, then it should be a nice, quiet ride.

A little girl approached me and asked, Did it hurt?

Jessica, age 5. Daughter of John and Suzan Jallison, no threat, scrolled across my visual field along with other basic information about her family, school and friends. Good to know that a five-year-old girl was still considered no threat in our upside-down reality of magic and science.

I squatted down to her level and asked, Did what hurt?

She pointed at my eye and said, That.

As long as I was wearing my uniform, I could usually pass for a primitive. My light brown skin, short-cropped hair, and average physique were carefully sculpted to blend in with the other officers. The one exception was my left eye; a careful observer would notice it didn’t look quite right. It would pass a glance, but if you stared long enough you’d see it was not organic. I don’t know what this little girl made of what she saw, but she had noticed the difference. Did she know what it was?

A young woman came rushing down the aisle. Over her head floated Suzan Jallison, age 57, occupation software engineer, no threat. The child’s mother.

In addition to the text display both were outlined in green, meaning no threat was expected from either of them. I hadn’t really needed technology to tell me that, but alas, it did; my ever-present nanny, helping me through the day. Most days I wished I could turn it off. It would be blissful to be free of the constant data streams from all my sensors and datanet, but sadly that was not an option.

I’m sorry, said Mrs. Jallison as she rushed up.

It’s okay, I said to her and turned back to her daughter. Yes, it hurt a lot; but that was a long time ago.

What happened? she asked.

When I was little, I had an accident and hurt my eye. They replaced it with this fake one, which works well, I said, trying to keep my voice gentle. The curiosity of a child was something to be encouraged and respected.

The story about my eye was a standard lie I was trained to give, one of many. Without my perfect enhanced memory, it’d be easy to lose track of the truth given how many lies I had to tell on any given day. I felt guilty every single time I told one. I knew it was wrong, and my internal processors let me know it was wrong, but I still had to do it.

I wondered what it would be like to be able to forget something. There were so many memories of fights and bodies that I would like to forget if I could. Like so many things, this was not an option for the likes of me. From the day they put in my memory implants until the day I am finally turned off, I will never forget a single thing.

Her mom smiled and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

Can’t you just have your old one regrown? asked Jessica.

I suppose I could, but I have had this one for so long now that I think I’d miss it if it were gone, I replied. That much at least was true.

But then you could be normal again, she said.

I heard her mom inhale sharply, but I kept my gentle smile and said, Normal? So you think I’m odd because one of my eyes is a little different? Maybe I’m the normal one and you’re the odd one.

She thought about that for a moment and then replied, But everyone has two matching. You’re different.

Oh? And does everyone have freckles like you do? Or blonde hair? I asked.

Her faced scrunched up for a moment as she tried to think of a reply.

What is normal? I asked her.

She looked up at her mom and then back to me. I don’t know.

For most people, normal is whatever is like themselves, I said.

That’s not fair, she said.

So, am I normal then? I asked.

Yes, I think you are, she said.

I could hear her mom let out a sigh of relief. I’m not sure what she was worried about, but there was no way a little girl was going to offend me with her questions.

Thanks. Where are you going today? I asked.

I have to see my doctor, but I don’t want to, she said.

Oh? Why not? I asked.

He’s going to hurt me, she said.

I looked up at her mom, who said, She needs surgery and she’s scared.

Ah, I said and sat down on the floor.

The little girl gasped. You can’t do that!

Well, maybe you should call an officer and report me, I said with a grin.

But you’re an officer! she replied.

So I am. Well, that makes it awkward, doesn’t it? I guess I’ll have to turn myself in to myself, I said.

How are you going to do that? she asked.

The conversation continued for the rest of the ride. I missed my stop and rode all the way to the hospital with them. I did my best to distract her from thinking about where she was going and to keep her smiling. I wasn’t quite sure why I was doing that, but something deep within me said it was the right thing to do. It was a small voice which I didn’t hear often, but which I trusted.

When we reached the hospital station, her mom said, Thank you.

My pleasure, ma’am, I said and watched them go. I’d never know the joy of having a daughter, but I’d like to think that if I had one she’d be like that inquisitive little girl who was about to face surgery. I wondered briefly where her father was, but resisted pulling up his file. It was none of my business what happened to them, and I was already late.

3

02-02-0065 - Lyshell

S it, said Commander Rickal.

I sat in the chair in front of his desk. He looked annoyed, but I was pretty sure that was just how he looked. His black hair was beginning to gray, and for some reason he’d refused any treatment to stop the process. He looked as if he might once have been a body-builder, decades ago, but he was soft now. For as long as I had been in the force he had been working at that desk and never seemed to aspire to anything different. Something must have broken him long ago.

If I could still feel fear, I think my greatest fear would be that I’d end up like him someday.

You’re late again, he said.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir, I said.

No clever excuse? he asked.

I was held up on the transit, I said.

He pushed a button and images started popping up in the space between us, images of me and Jessica. Apparently, people had seen us and thought it worthy of sharing.

Yes, I can see that. Who is she? he asked.

Jessica Jallison, aged 5. Daughter of Suzan — what’s wrong? I asked as he started shaking his head.

You sound like a mindless computer sometimes. How do you know her? he asked.

That stung, but I did my best not to react. I’d never met her before that train ride. She came up to me because she was scared. I kept her company until we reached the hospital, I said.

He shook his head again. Well, I guess I should be happy. One of my officers is all over the media feeds, and for a change it’s a positive story. Everyone is talking about the wonderful officer who stopped to comfort a little girl.

What should I have done, sir? I asked. I wanted to say something more forceful, but it would have been a violation of my guidelines for interaction with a superior.

He punched another button and the images went away. Now, with respect to your failure yesterday, consider that case closed permanently.

Why, sir? I asked. The change of subject confirmed what I had assumed; I had done the right thing, and he was just annoyed because he’d been kept waiting.

This Master Henrick is apparently the head of a powerful nation which has a treaty with us. I assume he overstepped the bounds of the treaty by performing this extraction, but that’s way above our heads. As far as you’re concerned, that renegade has been dealt with. Is that clear? he said.

I quickly crafted a search script and fired it off in search of more information on this Henrick while I replied, Yes, sir.

Good. For your next assignment, I want you to escort prisoner 5439 to a hearing with the Emperor.

What? I said as I pulled the file on 5439. He is one of the most dangerous criminals we have in our prisons. Why in the Emperor’s name would we do that?

Because he appealed his ruling and the Emperor granted the appeal. You are to escort him, and keep the Emperor safe, he said firmly.

Chance of mission success twelve percent, my internal nanny helpfully provided. Wonderful.

I held his gaze and almost refused the order. It was stupid beyond my comprehension. You don’t bring someone like 5439 out of a secure cell unless you like watching people die slow, horrible deaths.

You are authorized to use whatever force you deem necessary to keep the Emperor safe. If 5439 dies in the process, so be it, he said. His tone implied he was hoping for that outcome.

It might be helpful to him if 5439 dies, but what about the rest of the people who’d be present?

Chance of collateral damage in any confrontation one hundred per cent. Great, even my processors were getting pessimistic.

I did not need my internal systems to know that any fight with such a powerful mage would mean numerous deaths on our side. This was a foolish gamble, but if I didn’t comply he’d find someone else, and no one was better equipped for it than I.

I wish to formally log my complaint that this is too dangerous, and my recommendation that 5439 be allowed to attend only via a remote session, I said. I fired off another prepared script for this complaint, knowing that he wouldn’t actually file one.

Are you going to refuse the order? he asked in surprise.

No, sir, I said. I probably should but I couldn’t bring myself to, and I doubted that anyone else on the force had a chance of controlling 5439. The Emperor’s best chance at surviving this foolish move lay with me. I wouldn’t let him down.

Then your objections are duly noted. Go and make your preparations, he said.

I sighed loudly, stood up and said, Yes, sir, and then took my leave.

At my desk I connected to datanet and pulled down my messages. Once again, I had thousands of them; this happened every time the media got hold of an image of me. I ran my automated scripts to clean them out and isolate the messages I needed to read, such as the details for the prisoner escort.

One message stood out; it was from an old contact, about whom I could remember very little. The message simply said, Call me. After searching for and finding her current contact information, I called her.

A dark-haired woman in a nurse’s uniform appeared on the virtual screen in my left eye. She was above the weight range that my internal database told me was considered beautiful for women in today’s society, but something inside me rebelled at that assessment. It was a brief, passing feeling, then my implants clamped down and my emotional state was reset to neutral.

Her face was familiar, but she wasn’t stored anywhere in my internal databases. My databases never forgot anything. This was very strange.

Could she be someone I knew before I was a cyborg? My implants controlled my emotions to make sure only useful ones made it through, but occasionally, like now, something flickered on the edge. I couldn’t interpret the feeling, but there was something there. This woman was important to me, but why?

The logo on her uniform told me she was working at the children’s hospital where Jessica had got off this morning. That probably meant this call was related to Jessica.

Howdy, stranger, she said.

Her name came to mind as I began to talk. I selected an informal tone, as her greeting seemed to indicate we knew each other. Hey, Joan. You wanted something?

You remember that little girl you were hanging out with this morning, Jessica? she asked.

Yes, I said.

Well, she is here on my floor and I was hoping you could help out with something, she said.

And what would that be? I asked.

Her surgery has been delayed until tomorrow, and she’ll be waiting here overnight, she said.

I assume you’re going to ask me to drop by after work? I asked.

Well, yes, but I was also wondering if you could bring someone with you, she said.

Who? I asked.

Well, she confided in me that she would love to meet a real mage someday, and I’m not sure she’ll get the chance, she said.

Her condition is that bad? I asked.

I can’t really answer that, she said.

That meant it was bad. I knew I could find out, but that’d be abusing my powers, so I resisted. I can’t promise, but I’ll see what I can do.

Chance of mission success thirty-seven per cent.

The problem was I didn’t know any magi that liked me. I wasn’t sure I knew any who would even tolerate me. I had probably reported every one of those in the force a dozen times already for some transgression, and then there was the matter of the purpose I was designed for. I was a mage hunter.

Thanks, I knew I could count on you, she said with a smile.

She said goodbye and closed the connection. I leaned back in my chair and tried to work out how I was going to pull off two impossible assignments in one day.

4

02-02-0065 - Lyshell

Thankfully, transporting a prisoner meant we could avoid mass transit. I waited by the armored transport that would carry him, along with five Imperial magi. Their hatred of me was almost palpable, and I had no love for them either; they were undisciplined and rarely showed up to help in the field. Their failing was why I had had to surrender my humanity and become a tool rather than a person. It was their fault I’d been reduced to a machine and would never again know what it was to be human.

Prisoner 5439 came into view, escorted by another five Imperial magi. He was blindfolded and his wrists were locked into cuffs that allowed no movement. Fifteen Imperial soldiers surrounded him, and one of them led him with a guideline.

The blindfold and cuffs would prevent him from using most of his magic, as spells usually needed hand gestures or line of sight; the more dangerous spells used both. I did not expect any trouble until we got to the throne room. His personality type could be patient to achieve a long-term goal. He wanted to meet with the Emperor and would be compliant as long as it led him toward that goal.

As I’d expected, the trip from the prison complex to the Emperor’s chambers was completely uneventful. The prisoner stayed silent all the time and complied with every demand. I knew he had something planned and that concerned me greatly. He was cunning, experienced and already under sentence of death. There was nothing we could do to threaten him. I really did not understand why the Emperor had granted his appeal. It was unheard of, and with good reason; it was foolish beyond words to bring a dangerous criminal like this into the throne room.

I went ahead of the procession and entered the throne room to inspect the preparations. I had sent orders ahead but had a final few changes to make. The throne room was filled with guards and officers working furiously to secure the room against anything this mage might attempt. I tried not to pay attention as my systems automatically identified each person and assigned a likelihood to their survival.

As I entered a uniformed officer came up and said, You must be Officer Lyshell.

Yes, and I assume you’re Captain Rodriguez? I said. I knew exactly who he was since it was floating over his head, but sounding less sure always seemed to ease relations with the primitives.

He nodded. I think you’ll find we have arranged everything according to your specifications, sir, he said.

He was commander of the security forces for the throne room, and I was in charge of the prisoner. That technically made us equal in rank, but I knew better than to assume he’d see me as a peer since this was his turf. I’d feel the same in his shoes.

Good, I said as I scanned the room. My enhanced eye quickly assessed the preparations, and it seemed everything was going well. I have some additional defenses I’d like to set up.

Oh? he said.

Yes, I said and looked across the room. The prisoner will be there? I asked, pointing to a podium.

Yes, the captain replied.

I walked over and began setting up my equipment between the podium and the Emperor’s throne.

What are you doing? he asked.

I stopped and looked him in the eye. Trying to keep the Emperor alive.

Do you know something you’re not sharing? he asked.

We are about to put the most dangerous mage currently in custody in front of the Emperor. I couldn’t think of a more foolish thing to do if I had a thousand years to try.

You think he’s going to try to kill the Emperor, the captain said.

I nodded and turned back to my work.

He is cuffed and hooded, isn’t he? he asked.

Yes, but he’s planning something. I just don’t know what it is yet, I said.

There was a long silence as I worked. I didn’t know what was running through his mind, but I was sure he was conflicted. I was in his territory and I really should have cleared it with him before I did anything, but I needed this done before many people noticed. It would only work if it was a surprise to Prisoner 5439.

For what it’s worth, I agree. We’ll just have to make sure that we can minimize the damage when it happens, he said, then returned to organizing the guards.

As I finished my work, a message came in signaling the arrival of the prisoner. I waved to Captain Rodriguez, and when he came over I told him, The prisoner is here.

Showtime, then. Bring him in, he said.

Engage combat level two. Everything slowed down a little around me as my senses went into a heightened state. Send him in, I sent back over datanet to the team escorting the mage.

Prisoner 5439 was as compliant as ever. He allowed himself to be led to the podium and then secured to it, standing there with his hood on without complaint. Magi and guards alike were on edge; the horrors he had perpetrated had once been headline news.

Captain Rodriguez came up next to me and said under his breath, That is downright creepy.

His weapon was holstered according to protocol, but it was set to maximum power and the safety was disengaged, which was distinctly against protocol. I doubted anyone cared about safety regulations right now.

Spread out, just in case, I said quietly and moved to the other side of the prisoner.

Fifteen tense minutes passed until the arrival of the Emperor. In the back of the room, a massive set of double doors opened and the Black Guard emerged in full battle armor. They were the elite bodyguard of the Emperor, cyborgs of the highest tech level. It was rumored they had class six tech, but so much about them was clouded in secrecy that it was hard to believe any of the stories.

All rise! came an impossibly loud voice. Everyone in the room was already on their feet, but the stillness that resulted made the room feel like a crypt.

The Emperor walked in, flanked by more of his Black Guard. Traditionally, one would bow in his presence until he said to stand, but there was no way I was bowing with that prisoner in the room. I needed to be ready.

The Emperor was old. I didn’t know his age, but he looked at least five hundred years old. Despite having access to the best medical technology in the galaxy, he walked with the aid of a cane and his hair was completely gray. He was thin and looked frail, except for his eyes; those were clear and spoke of power and control.

When the Emperor was seated, a clerk came forward and started reading the charges against the prisoner. I tuned him out and continuously scanned the room for threats. What was the prisoner’s game? He had to have one. Did he have help in the crowd? A traitor who would set him free at a crucial time?

Please remove the hood, said the Emperor, breaking my concentration.

Honored one, I don’t think that would be wise, said Captain Rodriguez.

I did not ask for your opinion; remove his hood so that he can present his case, responded the Emperor.

Yes, sire, he said. He turned to me, and I moved my hand to my weapon as a sign that I was ready.

Captain Rodriguez approached the prisoner from behind and carefully removed the hood, then took a step back. He was tense and ready to spring.

Engage combat level three.

I could feel strength building inside me, and it was becoming difficult to stand still. My body rebelled at being at such a heightened state and standing to attention.

That is an improvement. Now present your appeal, said the Emperor.

Everything happened at once, starting with a smile on the face of Prisoner 5439: the most dangerous smile I had ever seen.

Engage maximum combat mode.

I’d barely sent the order when Prisoner 5439 called out a command word and his bonds came free. Moving with impossible speed, he raised his arms and called out another command as I launched myself into the air. As I flew I drew back my arm, readying a punch that would end the problem of Prisoner 5439 for good.

Lightning leapt from the prisoner’s hand and headed toward the