Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (42 page)

There he was, pacing back and forth on the main floor and grumbling, exactly as Mip7 expected to find him. The situation outside Cardinal-5 was disturbing, to be sure. Mip7 wanted to know what was being done about it. He purposefully came and stood in the path of Olut6’s pacing, so that the next time the High General turned around he nearly bumped into him.

“Extat, Governor! You’re getting in the way of my thinking. Why can’t you stay up in your office and leave defense matters to me? Or did you just want to watch us blow that thing to pieces?”

“Is that what you’re going to do, General? That’s fine by me. But what’s it doing here? And where are all his friends?”

“That’s what we don’t know. I’ve got half our home fleet scrambling from Banor, and the rest on stand-by. It makes no sense that one enemy fighter would show up here and just sit out in front of us like this. Unless…”

“A suicide attack, maybe?” Mip7 stared at the main screen. The solitary dark enemy fighter—who they now knew to be the Ossurians—was simply drifting in the space not far from the station. Several squadrons of Torian fighters were now all around it, staying close enough to be in effective weapons range.

“If it is, it’s a poorly executed one.” Olut6 shook his head. “They came up on local propulsion and slowed so methodically, it’s almost like they’re trying to be friendly.”

“You’ve tried hailing them?”

“Yes, Governor. We also received a transmission of static noise on a rare frequency that I suspect must have come from them. I can’t be certain, unfortunately. But it sure seems to me like they wanted to communicate and couldn’t, possibly due to equipment failure. I can’t bank on that hunch, of course.”

“General, they’re turning!” someone shouted from a work station.

Mip7 and Olut6 looked back to the screen. The enemy fighter wasn’t actually turning—it was spinning. It made six or seven complete rotations and then came to rest upside down from the position of the station, still pointed sideways.

“What in Erob are they doing?” Olut6 mumbled.

The enemy fighter then fired its lasers straight ahead.

“They’re firing, sir! Tell the boys to return fire?”

“What are they shooting at, Lieutenant?”

“Nothing, General. Just firing straight ahead of their position. Nobody’s there. The boys want permission to destroy it.”

“That’s a negative, Lieutenant. They can fire warning shots only. As many as they want. But do not destroy it without my orders unless the vessel takes a hostile action!”

“Yes sir.”

“Hostile action?” Mip7 said. “They’re firing weapons now. How much more hostile do they have to be?”

“We still haven’t captured one of these extat things to inspect,” Olut6 snapped. “Not even from the Dirg battle, from what I understand. And I don’t consider this action threatening. Something’s wrong. Look at it, there. Spinning around like a lost lightning hornet, hanging upside down and firing they’re lasers into nothing. And they’re keeping them on! This makes no sense.”

Mip7 watched as the closest squadron of Torian fighters returned fire. Warning shots, as they had been told. But it was obvious they weren’t happy with the order, as the warning shots were extremely close. The enemy vessel was now surrounded by nine lasers crisscrossing themselves into a tight grid. It couldn’t move ten meters to one side or the other without being hit.

“Their form of protest,” Olut6 said. “I can hardly blame them.” He then raised his voice. “But if one of those lasers damages that ship, the pilots will be grounded for a year, Lieutenant!”

“Understood, General!” The lieutenant radioed something and then the warning beams moved to give the Ossurian fighter a little more breathing room. The enemy craft kept firing straight ahead.

“If they keep that up they’ll deplete their charge,” Mip7 said half to himself.

Olut6 heard him and cocked his head. “You think maybe they’re doing that intentionally?”

Mip7 nodded. “Maybe. It’s what I would do if I wanted to demonstrate friendly intentions.”

“In that case,” Olut6 said, “I suspect a trap.”

The Ossurian fighter began firing missiles in addition to its laser weapon, in rapid order straight ahead. The Lieutenant shouted in response.

“Missiles, General! They’re firing everything! Can we please destroy it?”

Olut6 didn’t immediately answer, but he seemed more concerned now. At the same time, Mip7 flashed on something. It was a memory from long ago.

“General, wait.” Mip7 placed his hand on Olut6’s shoulder and received a vicious glare in response, which he ignored.

“Did they spin seven times before they started firing?”

“I didn’t count the extat number of spins, Governor. How in Erob is that relevant?”

“It’s something Brandon used to do on the simulator games, when he had conquered a level and destroyed all the enemy ships before the minimum time for the level expired. It was a program flaw, but he would get it to shut down and start the next level by shooting off the rest of his missiles and emptying his laser banks. He always spun around seven times like that before doing it, kind of his signature victory dance. I did it a few times myself when I played with him. I think he even taught Derek’s son to do it. Brandon still hasn’t returned from Dirg?”

“No,” Olut6 answered slowly.

“General, there’s no doubt in my mind that if Brandon somehow captured an enemy vessel and brought it here, particularly one with a damaged communications system, he would be doing exactly what you see out there now to try and tell us it’s him.”

“Tell the boys to hold all fire,” Olut6 yelled at the Lieutenant.

“Yes sir.”

The Torian lasers abruptly stopped. Inside the REEP bunker, they continued to watch the Ossurian fighter shoot off the rest of its missiles. Shortly thereafter, the steady laser beams grew faint and finally flickered out.

The vessel then began spinning again. This time, Mip7 and Olut6 counted. Seven spins exactly. The ship then straightened out.

“Get a squadron around that ship,” Olut6 said. “Let’s see if it comes along peaceably. If it does, lead it to Amulen. Land in Belle-ub’s parking lot—he always likes visitors.”

The Lieutenant relayed the order and the closest squadron then approached the enemy vessel. In another moment it was surrounded. Nine Torian fighters with their dark prize in the middle gradually moved off. The Ossurian fighter cooperated with the escort. Soon the procession reached Amulen and vanished into the atmosphere.

“Looks like you finally got yourself an enemy fighter, General.”

Olut6 only smiled back at Mip7.

Two Months Later, Camp Store C4 Banor

For just a second, Alan anticipated that the second group of young Banorians was about to be ambushed. But then he remembered and looked down. Casanova was watching with them now, tragically reduced to a spectator. His leash stretched tight as he leaned forward on the observation platform, whining while the customers currently in view traversed the trench before the field of goliagrass. This was torture for him—but the customers carried nondestructive lasers, and Casanova didn’t know the difference. So Jumper and Kayla couldn’t risk letting him be a part of the games any longer, as Jumper predicted.

“You need me to help you hold him?” Alan asked.

“Actually, yes.” There was appreciation in Brandon’s voice.

Alan grabbed the leash and helped shoulder the load. Casanova didn’t ease up until the three figures on the mercenary course crawled out of the trench and vanished in the tall grass. Finally he sat down and stopped pulling.

“I wish I could have seen Kayla’s face when the Mparians brought her cat back to her,” Brandon said.

“Yeah.” Alan chuckled. “I wasn’t here, either. We’ve been swamped at the shop trying to fill the military’s new float suit orders. But from what Jumper said, Shaldan and the Troden brothers were just as thrilled to find them here as Kayla was to see Casanova. They had no way of knowing what happened to us, and had stuck around Sulien—HD28, I mean—until the natives and the Bolkans were all rescued out of the Ossurian mines. They hoped to find us among them.”

Brandon nodded. “I can only imagine. Sorry you and Derek are so buried in work now. I’d come and help, but I’m hoping to be busy myself the next few weeks.”

“I know. We’re all pulling for you.”

“Poor Derek,” Brandon said as he let go of the leash and stood. “I hope you haven’t told him anything about the offer Trodenjo made you.”

“No.” Alan shook his head decisively. “Of course not.”

“Have you thought much about it?”

“Not seriously. I’m glad to be home, same as you. What makes you think I’d be interested in chasing across the galaxy, the only human on a huge spaceship, buying and selling goods with twenty different kinds of aliens?”

“Gee, I don’t know—for the adventure of it? I guess now that Jumper’s married, I kind of see you as being left alone with nothing to do.”

“He was married before he got married.” Alan stood up as well. They watched as the customers in the grass scored hits on the final targets. Jumper and Kayla’s return fire missed all three of them widely. Alan motioned towards the course.

“I will say this. Jumper and Kayla seem to be going a little easy on their customers since the wedding. Maybe they figure it’s better for business. I suspect Mparian influence there. Whether it’s for the better or worse, I can’t tell.”

“I can sense the change in them, too,” Brandon said. “Tell me, what happened with you guys that made Jumper suddenly anxious to marry her?”

Alan thought for a moment.

“I see the point of your question. He’s had scary experiences in the past, and they never really did much to him. I think it was almost getting killed by our own people that seriously rattled him. When those Torian fighters fired so close to us next to Cardinal-5, it got pretty hot in the cockpit. Jumper just kept holding the lasers, though. Then as we were being escorted over to Amulen, he suddenly confessed to purposely losing that polwar game in the semi-finals the second year. Said it was because his opponent needed the prize, and he felt he ‘owed’ him. Martians, I think he said they were—another abductee race, like us, trapped on Amulen against their will. Not very social, apparently.”

“Martians?” Brandon said. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“Well it was something like that. The short guys that kind of look like us. Lots of hair. Jumper says they can move extremely fast when they want to.”

“Oh yeah.” Brandon rubbed his chin. “I remember them. So that’s who they were. His opponent went on to win the tournament, didn’t he? I thought Jumper was behaving abnormally when we watched the final, cheering for the one who beat him so enthusiastically. Hmm. Strange to be talking about them today.”

“Does learning that surprise you?” Alan asked.

“No—unfortunately. I don’t know if I can ever truly be surprised again. Somebody gives me a piece of information now and it’s like jogging a memory instead of telling me something new. Pretty damned annoying, to be honest.”

“Huh. That sounds weird.” Alan looked up at the cloudy midday sky. “So what actually happened to you on Milura?”

Brandon reached over and pulled Alan’s necklace out of his shirt. He gazed at the quarner stone for a minute before responding.

“I haven’t even told Mip7 yet. Can’t tell you before I tell him. Wouldn’t be right.”

“What about the High General?”

Brandon let go of the necklace. “Not really his cup of tea. Looks like the exercise is ending. Ready?”

“Ready as I’m likely to get.”

Alan followed Brandon through the store. Casanova was happy to be moving and pulled hard on the leash, causing Alan to stumble into Brandon. He apologized before asking Brandon another question.

“If you can’t be surprised anymore, then maybe you already know what’s going to happen today? Like a real prophet, finally?”

“No,” Brandon said. “It’s not like that. I can’t see the future. Especially this.”

“Oh. All right.”

They said goodbye to Rupert before exiting out the front door and walking across the lot to the course staging area. Only six customers in today’s run, as Jumper and Kayla had recently taken to handling smaller groups. The natives were finished and settling their bill. When the mock weapons were put away, Jumper and Kayla came over.

Kayla kissed Jumper goodbye before taking Casanova’s leash. Alan, Brandon, Kayla, and Casanova then crossed the parking lot to where Brandon’s shuttle was parked.

“I wouldn’t have believed it until I saw it,” Alan said to Kayla.

Kayla grinned mischievously. “Jumper doesn’t want any more adventures for a while.”

Brandon only shook his head, but he seemed happy.

The cabin door on Brandon’s shuttle was wide open. Four natives were milling about outside of it. One of them was professor Yob3. Alan cheerfully greeted him.

“Good to see you again, Professor.”

Yob3 looked up from his lightpad. “Hello, Alan. Hi Kayla. Congratulations.” He then looked down at Casanova. “Finally, I get to meet your pet. Heard quite a lot about him.”