Dragon Invasion Read online

  They were a distraction. He focused his iron will, grasping onto his emotions like wayward children. The lights touched him a few more times, but when he didn’t allow himself to react, they moved on. If only dragons would react that way…

  He scanned Cavey, taking note of resources he might need. His patch of forest had settled into watchful silence. The nearest dragon was a kilometer from the rift, maybe a little farther. They seemed even more disturbed by its psychic noise than he was.

  He confirmed the dragons’ positions, and that they got away from the rift as fast as possible once they entered the material world. He couldn’t blame them. He’d like to get away from it, too, but it was the safest place to be.

  He rose, taking his astral body beyond the orbits of Cavey’s moons. Finally, he was alone. He soaked in the silence, keeping one ‘eye’ on his physical surroundings. He didn’t know what he’d do if a dragon found his body; he wasn’t armed. Maybe he just wanted to see his fate coming.

  He was about to return to his body when he felt the arrival of two Mystics. Their presence sent ripples across the Astral Plane. It had to be Coraolis and whoever they’d sent to help him.

  He picked out the flagship where Ronasuli would be. The Mystics were there as well. He could sense the crew’s anxiety. They knew what the dragon had done to Side Liner. No, it was what Dante had done under the Dragon’s influence. At least now he was free. At least now he could do the right thing and fix this.

  CHAPTER SIX

  On its maiden voyage, E.F.S. Doomslayer led the squadron from the mothership to Cavey. The ship was already the pride of the Fleet. Its sleek design hid more firepower than three ordinary ships. Its silhouette suggested a stooping hawk, and it was large enough to hold an entire company of ground troops.

  To Coraolis, this voyage was different from any other. Tension marked everyone he met. The ship’s crew wouldn’t talk or even look at him unless duties required it. The Mystic tried engaging crewmates, but after his tenth one-sided conversation, he accepted they would remain distant. The rank and file had heard about Dante, and it had confirmed their suspicions about Mystics.

  Captain Ronasuli proved the exception and spent most of her time on the bridge; consequently, Coraolis lingered there when his duties permitted. Which was, possibly, more than he’d be welcome under ordinary circumstances. These were not ordinary circumstances. His acquaintance with Julia Ronasuli had become a valued friendship, and she welcomed his presence.

  That welcome had extended to his partner, too, but M1C Andrus spent most of his time in their shared cabin either reading or meditating. It was just as well. Either he was the shyest man Coraolis had ever met…or the stuffiest, plus he didn’t know how to break the ice with a member of the Secret Council—not an ordinary Mystic but an insider.

  Although Coraolis had chosen Andrus, he wondered if there wasn’t additional influence from the Council to bring him on board. To whom did Andrus report? Coraolis vowed to remain wary.

  After three days’ travel, it was time for the Mystics to take a shot at Dante. Coraolis spent the morning clearing the commune chamber, while Andrus made his own preparations. Coraolis was glad to have something physical to do. A little exertion was good for the mind and the soul.

  When the chamber was clear of crates, he unrolled a plush mat and set out two electrolyte bottles. He’d been at this long enough to want a little comfort when he was on the job. Let the young Mystics prove something by sitting on a hard floor for days on end.

  When he finished, Julia stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back. She was inspection-ready, as usual, but shadows under her eyes said she wasn’t as collected as she let on.

  “Oh captain, my captain,” he said. “Come in! Or were you born in a barn?”

  “I was born in a laboratory, as you know.” She scoffed and hesitated but curiosity won out. She stepped inside, and the door slid shut behind her. “They don’t give you much room, do they?”

  The ubiquitous ‘they.’ It was her ship, but theirs was the world of the Mystics. Separate but unequal. Greater and lesser. Coraolis deferred.

  “We don’t need much.”

  “I see.” She gazed at the mat. “What is it like?”

  “What is what like?”

  “The Astral Plane. Leaving your body, fighting invisible monsters. All of it.” She made a sweeping gesture of the entire room.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that.” Coraolis walked over to sit on the mat. He was surprised when Julia joined him. She sat with legs crossed and watched expectantly.

  He held her gaze, focusing on her question. He’d never thought about discussing what it was like with a normal. A Mystic knew by experience, and no one else had shown interest. It was rare enough to find a non-Mystic who believed in what they did.

  “The Astral Plane is the most beautiful place you could ever hope to see. It’s as vast as our universe, with lights and shapes to match the worlds we have here. Going there is…” He tried to come up with the right words. The Astral Plane wasn’t anything Julia would have seen. “It’s like a dream of outer space where the stars and planets are rendered with pastels. I wish I could show you how real it is. Unfortunately, the monsters are not invisible and all too real.”

  Julia gave a half-smile, her cheeks pinker than usual, and nodded. “I’d like it if you could,” she said. She put a hand on his arm.

  He smiled, keeping his tongue under lock and key. If she had something to say, he didn’t want to interrupt.

  The door slid open with an unwelcome hiss. Wearing his Council robes, Andrus stepped inside. Every gray hair was in place, his robes freshly pressed, his goatee trimmed as always. The rail-thin Mystic cleared his throat.

  Julia rose to her feet in a graceful motion, her smile perfectly neutral and professional. “Good morning, Mike. I came by to let you two know we’ll be in range shortly.” She checked her watch. “Actually, we should be there now.”

  “Excellent,” Andrus said drily. “Thank you, captain. You didn’t need to come here to tell us yourself.”

  “No, but I needed to stretch my legs. Good luck, Mike. Cor. If you need me, you know where to find me.” She let herself out. The door slid shut behind her.

  Andrus turned to the keypad and entered the sequence that locked the door. Once that was done, only the captain or the two Mystics inside could open it without plasma cutters and a squad of engineers.

  Their solitude assured, the older Mystic claimed a seat on the empty half of the spongy mat. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m waiting for you,” Coraolis said.

  “You know what I mean.” Andrus scowled.

  Coraolis angled his head to study his counterpart. “I don’t think I do.”

  A sour expression passed over Andrus’s face. “You’re entirely too casual with the captain. She called you ‘Cor.’ We’re on a serious mission, Coraolis. There is no room for…for fraternizing.”

  “We are friends. That isn’t against regulation,” Coraolis replied. “Significant challenges are ahead, and my professional relationship with the captain improves our chances. As the only person to survive our colleague’s actions, it’s important we have her support.”

  Coraolis tugged his feet into the lotus position, lamenting that it had been so much easier even five years before. He held out his hands palms up, as if to say, See? Let’s get to work already.

  Andrus stared at him, his expression stony. As a rule, Mystics didn’t lie. It was a bad idea to pretend the truth was malleable. It did bad things to a Mystic’s ability to exert their will in the Astral Plane. To accuse another Mystic of lying was to question their abilities. It wasn’t done lightly.

  Andrus nodded and decided to let it go…or maybe he decided to trust Coraolis. They were about to start the most dangerous part of their mission. Their failure would be catastrophic, not only for the Mystics but for all humankind.

  “We should begin,” the older Mystic said.

>   Coraolis smiled, lips tight. He sighed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  ***

  Coraolis left his body and soared through the ether beside Andrus. Several thousand clicks from Doomslayer, the planet Cavey rotated just inside their range. Part of a Mystic’s job was to be an early warning system for their ships as they neared their objectives. Obviously, Dante had failed at this.

  Two moons orbited the planet and, within their boundaries, Side Liner drifted in a slow circuit. Below it all, a wound in the Astral Plane throbbed and pulsated. Coraolis drew nearer, feeling its tug on his spirit, its gravity pulling at even his weightless self. A desire to see it closer came over him. There was the question: what would happen if he went through the rift into the physical world? Would he become a ghost on Cavey? Would he lose his connection to his physical self?

  The fascination with the rift had a power of its own. Coraolis recognized a force outside himself and, finally, shut it out. A glance at Andrus told him the other Mystic was doing the same; in fact, he had kept his distance, while Coraolis drifted dangerously close.

  He pulled back, embarrassed. He expected Andrus to chastise him, but he didn’t say anything. The other Mystic studied the rift, and Coraolis did the same, this time without being drawn in.

  Julia described it as being hundreds of feet long. It had grown since then, its high end reaching the outer edges of Cavey’s atmosphere. Its acid-green light bled into the void.

  “This is an interesting problem,” Andrus remarked. He sounded livelier than usual. “We never believed that the material and the Astral could touch each other. They are supposed to be parallel, side by side, never intersecting.”

  The theory was taught to every first-year Mystic at the Academy and universally accepted as truth, even though empirical evidence to support it was unattainable. Mystics were not scientists. Theirs was a profession of the mind, separate and distinct from the observable and measurable.

  Coraolis’s experience on the Toros had done damage to that theory. They’d encountered a dragon in the physical world. It could have wrecked their runabout, but they’d managed to defeat it. Coraolis had expected that encounter to shake up the Mystics as a whole. It should have changed everything; instead, the incident had been classified. As far as he could tell, nothing changed.

  “It does suggest more of a connection. What do we do about this?” Coraolis asked. He had his own ideas but, in this case, Andrus outranked him.

  “We must close it.” Andrus sounded regretful. “Start on this end. I’ll work on the other, and we’ll meet in the middle to seal it. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Coraolis focused on the outermost edge of the tear, reaching out with his will. The edges of the hole were meant to be of one piece. If they touched, they should adhere to each other naturally. He willed it to be true, putting his power behind it.

  He visualized the edges pinched together. The rift wavered, and the aurora leaked less light. Encouraged, he pushed harder, forcing it to bend to his will.

  It pushed back. Energy flooded from its center and shoved Coraolis. He watched horrified as the rift tore further. He’d made it worse!

  He looked down to the end Andrus worked on. He was doing better than Coraolis. The edges curled in, stretching toward each other, yet never quite touching. Andrus hummed a mantra, the syllables intensifying as he strained.

  Coraolis drifted over and laid his hands on his brother Mystic’s shoulders, feeding Andrus his strength. The connection was accepted, and Coraolis felt the sudden absence of Andrus’s power. The older Mystic had spent everything he had to make such little progress, and now Coraolis applied his strength to the same fruitless task.

  Closing but not touching. Accepting the energy from the Mystics. And laughing—if a rift could do so.

  “This isn’t working, Andrus. We need to stop.”

  Andrus persisted long enough to make Coraolis wonder if he should tear himself free. Andrus finally nodded and let go. The rift snapped apart, but at least it didn’t get larger.

  “You seem to be correct.” Andrus frowned, showing none of the weakness he must feel. “Coercion and force don’t work. What is left?”

  Coraolis couldn’t help being impressed by the older Mystic’s strength.

  “You could leave.”

  The entity appeared so suddenly, Coraolis was nearly jarred from his trance. The rogue Dante, surrounded by a blue nimbus that made Coraolis uneasy, floated between them and the rift. He was recognizable from his dossier…with a few strange differences. A golden, reptilian sheen had covered his flesh, and his features bore inhumanly hard edges.

  Here was their third path. Diplomacy. If they couldn’t force the rift shut, they could talk its creator into closing it. “Dante. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  The entity smirked. “I’ll bet you have.”

  “Mystic First Class Dante, I am Andrus. I represent the Secret Council.” The older Mystic pressed forward, ignoring waves of power coming off Dante. “Surrender to me, close this rift, and return to Earth for judgment.”

  Coraolis heard a slight tremble in Andrus’s voice. Maybe he noticed the power after all and was trying to bluff past it. There was something to be said for the bold and their fortunes, but Dante wasn’t one to yield to such a hollow request.

  “I don’t take orders from the Secret Council anymore. I don’t take orders from anyone. None of you come close to my level. You might as well call me a god.”

  He spoke casually, and his aura flared as if to demonstrate his power. Coraolis wished Andrus would stand down, but the older Mystic remained strong.

  Coraolis had to say something. “Fine. We’re fleas. I’d be happy to leave, but we have a problem. There are a lot of innocent people on that ship over there, and I’m going to guess they’re in trouble. Will you let them go?”

  Dante looked at Side Liner. His smirk faded, as did his certainty. Coraolis only faintly felt the crew. Most of the ship was made of blocking materials, but there still should have been more of a living presence.

  “Forget them. Go and save yourselves.”

  “I’m sorry. We can’t do that. Their families are waiting for them,” Coraolis said. He sensed Andrus moving, but he didn’t look. He held his hand out. “Their Captain is worried about them.”

  Dante’s gaze darkened. “You’re in over your heads. Leave before you get yourselves killed. You’ll only get in my way, and believe me, fixing this is worth a lot more to me than your lives.”

  “You don’t need to handle this on your own. We can help,” Coraolis insisted.

  “No. You can’t. Please go before I make you.”

  Dante turned his back, clearly expecting them to go quietly. Andrus seethed silently for a moment. Coraolis waited for the senior Mystic to decide what to do. He didn’t expect Andrus to jab a lance of power at Dante’s back.

  The lance touched the rogue Mystic’s aura and splintered. The shock traveled up the shaft into Andrus. The Mystic gasped and folded in on himself.

  Dante swiveled and his aura changed, flowing down his arm to form a blade. Coraolis threw his will at Dante before he struck Andrus, weaving a chain out of the ether to wrap around the other’s body. The rogue Mystic’s arms were pulled to his side.

  The chain shattered. Fragments flew at Coraolis in a deadly hail. He shielded himself in time, and the shards bounced away, but they were followed by a hammer blow that fractured Coraolis’s shield. He reeled. Dante struck again, and his shield vanished.

  Andrus whimpered in agony. Coraolis veered and collided with the older Mystic, who was clearly exhausted of power but refused to back down.

  Until Andrus retreated, Coraolis wouldn’t leave. He created another shield, a near-transparent hemisphere of white light.

  Dante glared at him, and the shield dissipated. “So much for asking nicely,” the rogue Mystic growled. He gestured, and a net crackling with energy fell over them. Dante closed his fist, and electricity surged through the ne
t, jolting Coraolis back to his body.

  ***

  Coraolis opened his eyes and stared at the smooth curve of the commune chamber’s ceiling. He lay on his back and twitched as if hooked into the ship’s power. He fought his panic away. It was simple biofeedback, his mind sending shock-induced signals. Dante couldn’t send electric shocks through to the material world. That was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  He sat up. A headache blossomed between his eyes, but he pushed it away as he saw Andrus collapsed on his side. The slight movement of his chest indicated he yet lived.

  Coraolis got to his knees and shook Andrus’s shoulder. The Mystic groaned, scowling through his unconsciousness. He opened one eye a crack, then shut it again with a determined grunt. Despite the situation, Coraolis grinned. He made much the same noise on early Monday mornings.

  “Time to wake up, my friend.” He pushed on Andrus and pressed a bottle of electrolytes into the man’s hand. “We have met Dante. The first battle is his, but the war has only started.”

  At the sound of that, Andrus’s eyes opened. He pushed into a sitting position and proceeded to drink his electrolytes in one long gulp. He wiped a sleeved arm across his mouth.

  Coraolis drank from his own bottle, savoring the relief. “We can’t take him on the Astral Plane. He’s too powerful.”

  “That is obvious.” Andrus rubbed his temples. “Tell the captain we need a different way. I’ll clean up here.”

  ***

  Julia sat in the captain’s chair as Coraolis staggered in. The rift was on the viewscreen. He knew it was physically present on Cavey, but it shocked him to see it. A glance at the data on the screen told him they’d closed on the planet during his trance; they were near the moons’ orbits, maybe closer.

  Julia stood. She’d been smiling, but it faded when she scrutinized him. “What happened?” She walked over and grabbed Coraolis’s arm, steadying him. She peered past him, then looked back, eyebrows raised.