Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (43 page)

Casanova sniffed him. Kayla giggled.

“Thanks, Professor.” She chatted with him for a few minutes before Brandon had everyone board.

Brandon was flying this trip, and offered the copilot’s seat to Alan. He gladly accepted it. Kayla and Casanova sat next to Yob3 in the cabin. Yob3 took to petting Casanova in an obvious attempt to befriend him.

They launched, flew out across the nearby ocean, and ascended out of Banor’s atmosphere. Being back in space again gave Alan mixed emotions.

“What’s happening with the war?” he asked.

“The High General tells me good things,” Brandon said as he began crossing the local space over to Amulen. “Azaar is now fully protected with the new IAMP system. We’re days away from finishing the installation here on Banor. Belle-ub is still fighting Olut6 on it for implementation on Amulen, but feeling the pressure from his own council to acquiesce. Thanks to you kids, potential weaknesses on the enemy fighters are being identified, possibly resulting in more optimal battle tactics for our pilots. As far as the outer rim worlds go, the Ossurians have been chased out of all of them now except Latia and Jujac. The Jujacians are apparently weak. They would rather keep the Ossurians and feed their addictions, so they’re going to be a problem. We’re about to blockade their world and expect to have to fight another major battle there. Latia should be easier to deal with. Olut6 expects them to turn to our side, as the Azaarians did, after a full scale ground invasion. Perry will be in charge of that. Erob help him.”

“What about the underground bases?” Alan asked.

“The five we knew about from Azaarian intelligence are all clear now. Three due to successful campaigns. We caught those before they could fully regroup after the Dirg battle. The other two were abandoned by the time we got to them.”

“Great. So the enemy has been driven from the sphere, except for Latia and Jujac?”

Brandon slowly shook his head. “That’s doubtful. There are dozens of available hydrosphere worlds they could have gotten to, including many more dwarf planets they may have dug into. But all advanced races in the Erobian Sphere now know about them. Their original plan of conquering certain societies from within, and then employing their military force towards the Ossurian cause, has been thwarted. Seven worlds have now pledged their allegiance to the new Erobian Alliance, and more are expected to join soon. Any additional weak races within the sphere who allow Ossurian penetration will know they are positioning themselves for a conflict with that force.”

“That’s encouraging,” Alan said. “It’s good to see our part of the galaxy come together like this, instead of fighting between ourselves.”

“Yes. Good to see, Alan. Too bad we require a common outside threat in order to do that.”

“Yeah. Too bad.”

Several minutes of silence went by and then Alan spoke again.

“So the enemy is still out there. Maybe even still among us to some degree. And they’re big. The size of their empire might be comparable to the whole Erobian Sphere. That’s a formidable foe. They see our way of life as a threat to their ideals, and they think they possess the natural rights for eventually acquiring the entire galaxy. It seems a bit naïve to hope they will leave us alone now. But I can’t help hoping that.”

“Me too,” Brandon said. “Me too.” Brandon laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I flashed on something Arkan9 once said, about ‘waiting for normalness.’ He told the High General it was a fool’s dream.” Brandon looked at Alan and smiled. “Maybe we’re all just fools, dreaming away.”

They came to Amulen. Brandon took the shuttle down gradually, so the transition into the atmosphere was smooth. They were soon over Continent-2 and descended further.

“There’s the Science Complex,” Alan said. “Looking busier than ever. They’re really getting this place going again, huh Brandon?”

“Nowhere near as busy as it once was.” Brandon glanced down as he maneuvered the shuttle towards a landing place.

“I know. I can’t help being happy about its progress, though. Even if…”

Brandon landed the shuttle in a dry field close to one of the ground buildings before replying.

“There’s no shame in that, Alan. Truth be told, so am I—even if. Now let’s get focused. We have about an hour to prepare, according to my intelligence sources.”

“Where are we?”

“That’s RL-47.” Brandon pointed to the building ahead of them on the right. He then moved his finger to the building across the lot to the left.

“There’s RL-48. Every day he walks between the two, by himself, right next to this untended field. See how the dead grass is high next to the walkway? It’s perfect.”

Alan turned and stuck his head back in the cabin.

“Can you see, Kayla?”

“Yes. I see.” Her response was emotionless.

Brandon and Alan exited the shuttle, then came around and manually opened the cabin. Everyone got out.

“Sure you’re okay?” Brandon asked Kayla.

“Yes, Uncle Brandon. I almost canceled, but last night my husband reminded me of what a bad guy he is. And I know how important this is. He can’t be carrying anything. I mean that. If there’s anything in his hands, it’s off.”

“Agreed. Let’s get in position.”

Brandon led his small party across the dry field. The dead grass became taller until they were completely submerged. Anyone walking by the path out in front wouldn’t know they were in there, unless they heard them talking.

They didn’t talk. They waited. About an hour later, a solitary figure appeared outside RL-47. There was nothing in his hands. He meandered along the walkway, occasionally looking up at the sky. Twice he stopped and peered into the grass. Alan worried he might be getting suspicious.

But he continued. If he only knew. He came closer now. Just a few more steps. They all stayed still in the grass. Absolutely frozen.

The director suddenly increased his pace.

The dead grass exploded with a shout.

“Wasah!”

A dark red figure leapt from the grass as Director Markin1 involuntarily turned to face the startling sound. He started to scream, but it was cut short. In two seconds he found himself heavily pinned to the ground.

The director’s struggles were futile. He could move his forearms, nothing else. Casanova leaned in. They were face to face, even nose to nose. Alan saw what real fear looked like in the director’s eyes.

Brandon and Yob3 stepped out of the grass.

“Good afternoon, Director.”

As Markin1 recognized Brandon and then Yob3 behind him, some of the fear in his eyes was replaced with hatred. Alan, Kayla, and the four other natives stayed hidden and watched.

“We don’t have time to stay and chat today,” Brandon said, “so I’ll be brief. I
might
have the formula for removing hungry felidors from one’s shoulders. But as you well know, Amulen is now a center of interstellar commerce. Nothing seems to be free anymore. Given the current economic climate, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be in the proper spirit of things to divulge it—unless, of course, you had something to trade.”

Markin1 tried to shout something in an angry voice, but Casanova quickly responded by growling and pressing one of his hand-sized fangs against his neck. The director only stiffened and whimpered.

Brandon spoke again. “I admire your resolve, Director. Here you are, helpless on your back with a dagger at your throat, yet staying loyal to your convictions. Come on, Professor. Let’s go. I don’t wish to see this.” They both turned and took a step back towards the grass.

But only one step. Markin1 began talking in a subdued, shaky voice. The names of certain chemicals along with numbers and figures. Alan didn’t understand them, but Yob3 apparently did. He raised his lightpad and tapped on it furiously. When Markin1 stopped, Yob3 crouched down next to him.

“Can you please repeat that?”

Markin1 rattled it all off again, this time louder. Yob3 stood back up when he finished.

“Well?” Brandon asked.

Yob3 continued tapping, and then began nodding.

“Looks right.” Another minute passed as Yob3 watched his screen. He then threw his arms down to his sides and said, “Extat!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Me. I’m what’s wrong. Brandon, I’m sorry. It’s not that complicated. I should have figured this this out many years ago. I’m really sorry.”

Markin1 managed to speak again. “You …always …were …a second-rate scientist.”

Brandon looked to the grass and yelled for Kayla. Alan, Kayla, and the four natives emerged. Markin1 looked disgusted with himself as soon as he saw them all.

Kayla pulled Casanova off Markin1. He stood, brushed himself off, and continued walking towards RL-48, mumbling to himself.

Brandon put his hand on Yob3’s shoulder and consoled him as they pushed their way back through the grass towards the shuttle.

“Don’t listen to him, Professor. You’re the smartest Torian I know. And I’m eternally grateful to have you as a friend. It worked. Now we have work to do. Good, honorable, meaningful work.”

That seemed to cheer Yob3 up a little, but only a little. They all climbed back into the shuttle and launched. Five minutes later, Brandon dropped Yob3 and the rest of his team off at RL-71. He handed Yob3 a small device. Alan recognized it as the key to the force field that protected RL-71. Then they took off again, so that Brandon could take Kayla and Alan home.

“Sure neither of you want to stay and help?” Brandon asked.

Kayla answered first. “A married woman belongs at home, Uncle Brandon.”

Alan laughed, still amused at how Kayla started calling Brandon “uncle” right after the wedding ceremony. He then noticed Brandon eyeing him expectantly.

“I can’t abandon Derek now. Too much work to do.”

Brandon nodded.

Alan looked down out the window. They had crossed the sea and were now flying over familiar peaks.

“Aren’t those the Sinlo Mountains on C3?”

“Yes,” Brandon said. “I believe they are.”

“Huh.” Alan kept looking at them. “The mountain dwellers still keep to themselves, I hear. Jumper and I should hike up there and visit them. That would be fun.”

“No!” Kayla said from the cabin.

Alan turned around and cocked his head at her. She flashed her prettiest smile.

“Jumper doesn’t want any more adventures for a while. A long while. And oh yeah—he said to remind you that you still owe us dinner.”

—
* —

The End…

Book Four of The Torian Reclamation
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About the Author Part Three

There’s never been a time in my life when I didn’t think I was an idiot five years ago. While I suspect this to ultimately be a good thing, I’m also terribly embarrassed by it. I mean, shouldn’t I have figured the basic stuff out by my early 40’s at the very latest? It was only recently that I learned a pony is actually a unique animal species and not a juvenile horse.

My stories often explore certain human frailties, such as our natural tendency towards obsessiveness. I’m an obsessive catch-and-release fisherman. The addiction here is the feeling of that initial tug on your line when a fish strikes. It doesn’t matter if I’m having the session of my life and just landed thirty fish. I want to feel that tug again one more time before going home.

I think the reason we enjoy science fiction stories so much is they allow our imagination to break the confines of our environment. There’s only so much we can do here on Earth. But wherever we go in the universe, whoever we happen to meet out there, and whatever oddities we discover, we bring our human frailties and philosophical puzzles with us. There’s no escaping those—not in his life, anyway. It is my sincere desire that by exploring and confronting these issues we can make peace with our existence. And maybe even not look like such a fool five years from now.

Tulros.

Andy Kasch

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