Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude

by Andy Kasch

  “We first stopped there on our initial route outward several months ago,” Trodenjo said. “We found the natives to be an advanced and intelligent race who have voluntarily regressed to a more rural existence. Their dominant industrial interest is in producing mining and excavation equipment for locating springs of mineral water deep within the rocks. The water rich in a mineral known as magnas.pz and consumption of it has remarkable restorative powers.”

  “There are no actual natives on that dwarf world,” Olut6 said. “They’re a colonized race.”

  “Correct, General.” Trodenjo took the tablet from Shaldan and swirled his fingers around on it, then turned it around to show an image of two aliens. They had a blue-gray skin color, long horizontal eyes, and sideways-placed ears.

  “They call themselves Sulienites,” Trodenjo continued, “and refer to their world, which we call Hydro Dwarf Planet 28, as Sulien. It’s an obvious adaptation of the name of their original home world, Salom. The Salomites colonized HD28 several generations ago before losing interest in interstellar travel themselves, so the colonists have no contact with the mother world.”

  “I don’t imagine such a society having much interest in foreign trade, either,” Brandon said.

  Trodenjo nodded. “Except for better mining equipment. We entered an agreement to locate more advanced beam-borers for them in exchange for their mineral water. The water is extraordinary, so we knew we could find a market for it.”

  “Did you?” Olut6 asked.

  “Yes, several—but most significantly at Bolkos. The Bolkans have suffered from malnourishment in recent times due to a depletion of natural resources, so were extremely enthusiastic about the mineral in the Sulien water. Their beam-borers are advanced, as they must now dig deep into their own ground looking for nutrients. We arranged an initial trade that included a Bolkan shipment of borers.”

  “Tell them what happened when you came back,” Mip7 said.

  “Right.” Trodenjo looked around the room. “It had been several months, as we were visiting worlds along the outer edge, mostly unsuccessfully. But then we sealed the Bolkan deal and came back to HD28 to let them know. When we were at Dirg we learned the story of the Latian capitulation, so we first stopped at the fourth planet to have a look at their surrendered fleet. It’s quite a spectacle.”

  “How did it look?” Olut6 asked.

  “All in place, as far as we could tell. But then as we approached HD28 we came across an area of wreckage.”

  “How much wreckage?”

  “Not much. Could have been from several small ships, or one large one.”

  Olut6 leaned back in his chair. “It’s possible someone circumvented the initial security system on one of the Latian transport vessels. But without the knowledge for full removal, they would have detonated the first time they cooled the dag drive. HD28 figures to be the first natural target a thief would make a trial run at. Poor fools. I’ll send a team by to do a count of the Latian fleet soon. Thanks for the information.” He stood up to leave.

  “That’s not all,” Mip7 said. He motioned for Trodenjo to continue.

  “Well,” Trodenjo said, “we brought one of the Bolkan beam borers with us and presented it to the Sulienites. They were thrilled with the trade and anxiously looked forward to full delivery from the Bolkans. We needed to complete our route and get back home to report.”

  “And?” Olut6 asked.

  “We returned to The Measure. But before distorting away we detected another ship in orbit over HD28 as we came around the other side of it. They were low, barely skimming the atmosphere, so we didn’t pick them up until we neared their position. It was strange, almost like they were hiding from us. But we got enough of them for a registry match before dagging out.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Azaarian, General. It was a transport ship from Azaar.”

  Olut6 sat back down. “That’s why you stopped here, to bring us this information?”

  “No.” Trodenjo frowned. “We’re not in the intelligence business, and that incident didn’t seem significant to us. We only casually mentioned it to your governor here as we were telling him stories of our travels. Had I considered it possible wartime intelligence, I would not have disclosed it. We wish to establish a reputation for rigid neutrality.”

  Olut6 didn’t respond. He appeared to be thinking.

  Brandon spoke. “Trodenjo, your operation is fascinating to me—especially the cooperation between your government and private enterprise. I’d love to talk more with you about it. Are you staying in Tora a while longer?”

  Trodenjo shook his head. “No, we need to be moving on. We’re just making a quick stop at Banor to load some landscaping items before heading home.”

  “Landscaping items?”

  “Yes, we’re interested in Banorian goliagrass. Governor Mip7 has graciously arranged a few crates of it for us, to see if it takes in the hard ground of our deserts. We’ll be back this way again on our next trip out, though, hopefully no more than seven or eight days from now. I’d be happy to make time for you then. Or, if you like, you’re welcome to come along with us and visit Mpar. We’ll drop you off on our way back.”

  “I predict he’ll take you up on that,” Mip7 said, smiling. “Wish I could go, too.”

  “No,” Olut6 said. He turned to Brandon. “I need you for something else. Sorry.”

  Brandon cocked his head at Olut6.

  “Well,” Trodenjo said, “the invitation is extended to anyone else you might want to send. We’d be happy to accommodate a small delegation. I’m certain they’ll find The Measure to be an uplifting experience.”

  “Do Mparians take to outdoor recreation?” Brandon asked. Olut6 frowned and started to say something but Brandon held his hand up at him, not an act many could get away with on the High General.

  Trodenjo laughed. “Yes, some of which you might find quite interesting.”

  “Hiking, camping, fishing, that kind of stuff?”

  “You won’t find better mountain trails and camping sites in all the galaxy,” Trodenjo replied.

  “Is it dangerous?”

  Trodenjo shook his head. “No. If you’re looking for hazards to conquer, or dangerous animals to fight, you’ll probably be disappointed.”

  “What about polwar?” Brandon asked.

  “Again, sorry. We don’t play it, and have no interest in importing foreign games.”

  Brandon leaned back in his chair, looked around the table, and smiled widely before speaking again.

  “I think a have a small delegation for you. Two or three Banorian Earthlings who are looking for an exotic vacation.”

  Chapter Three

  “Why does she get to go now?” Alan knew he was failing to hide the disappointment in his voice.

  “Because we’re travelling to another star system,” Jumper said. “I know this isn’t how we wanted our trip to be, and I’m sorry about that. But this is interstellar travel, man! Did you ever think we’d get to do this?”

  “It’s an awesome opportunity,” Alan admitted. “No argument there. I almost can’t believe Brandon hooked us up like this. But when she’s along, I don’t know. It’s not like you and me. It’s you and her, all relationshipy, and I’m only tagging along.”

  “Sorry, Alan. There’s no way she was letting me go without her on this one. Don’t worry. I’ll probably do something to make her mad at me anyway.”

  “Then I’ll have to listen to you fight instead. I’m not sure which is worse.”

  Jumper laughed. “It’s not gonna be like that. Hey, I’m sure they’ll let you bring another friend if you want. What about Doreen? No, not Doreen. I forgot. Bring another guy if you want. Marvin or Troy maybe. Heck, bring Rupert.”

  “We’re trying to make friends with this race, remember? And we’re leaving in a matter of minutes. Too late for me to do any recruiting. Besides, I can’t think of anyone I’d really want along. Guess that’s why it’s always just you and me on our ca
mping trips.”

  “Yeah,” Jumper said. “I know what you mean. Neophytes are a burden. Come on. Let’s see if they have the crate loaded.”

  Alan followed Jumper through the store to the observation deck out back. The Mparian shuttle was parked on the far side of the mercenary course. Its loading ramp was down and an all-terrain flatbed hover truck was making its way across the course.

  In the grassy field, near the final target range, a portable beam-hoe leaned against a large slotted crate. Kayla was there. She looked to be testing the door of the crate to make sure it was latched. Next to her was a noticeable patch of freshly turned ground.

  “Nice of you to let the Mparians have some of your goliagrass,” Alan said.

  Jumper nodded. “Erob knows we have enough of it. And this strain on the course is resilient. I think it’s much more likely to survive the trip, and take in foreign soil, than the other batches they were given. They seem pretty happy about it.”

  The two of them watched as the hover truck eased its way over uneven ground until it came to Kayla and the crate. Four Mparians got out and unloaded a small beam-crane. It didn’t take long before the crate and Kayla were both sitting on the truck bed and the vehicle was making its way back to the shuttle.

  Kayla looked up to the observation deck. When she saw Jumper and Alan she waved. She then pointed to the Mparian shuttle and motioned for them to follow.

  “She’s all ready,” Jumper said. “I have to admit her enthusiasm for this trip surprises me. But then, I’m the one usually going on vacations. I don’t think she’s ever had one, other than that excursion she took with us five years ago.”

  “That’s one I think she could have done without.” Alan waved back at Kayla. “Although, it cured her fear of animals. She hasn’t been separated from Casanova since then, has she? For any length of time, I mean.”

  “That’s why this trip is good for her. Dad will take care of everything here, and she knows Casanova loves him. You ready?”

  Alan nodded. Jumper slapped him on the shoulder as they reentered the building. Up in the storefront, Jumper’s dad was at the main counter looking confused behind the computer screen.

  “Jumper, where’s the vendor contact lists? In case I need to reorder something. Man. I can’t find anything on this newfangled contraption.”

  “Kayla said her instruction video covers everything, Dad. Just watch that. And we have extra stock on most items in the back, so I seriously doubt you’ll need to place any orders. It’s been kind of slow on the retail side lately.”

  “All right,” Derek said. “Sorry I can’t run your warmonger games for you.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Jumper came around behind the computer screen and touched something on the console under the cabinet.

  “There. This interface should be more your style, like the old university computers. It’s time for us to go. See you in about a week.”

  Derek looked back and forth between Alan and Jumper. “Heading off across the galaxy with your profiteering friends now? I’d tell you to have fun but I’m worried you might not come back.”

  “We’re coming back. We have a company gig we have to prepare for on the warmonger—I mean the mercenary course. It’s marked on the calendar, so whatever you do don’t book any appointments during that period.”

  “Gotcha. Have a good time, son. Not a great time—just a good time.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Oh, and Casanova can get out of his pen when he wants. He’s good about coming back before dark, so we don’t have the heart to fix it. So don’t worry if his pen is open and he’s gone. He likes to go sleep in the deep grass in the afternoons.”

  They said their final goodbyes. Alan and Jumper left the store. As soon as they were outside, Trodenjo met them.

  “I was just coming to get you two. Are we ready?”

  “Yes!” they both replied. Alan was suddenly getting excited. The fact that Kayla was coming had dampened his mood some, but he found he was now able to brush that aside. There’s something invigorating about the beginning of a trip. Unbridled optimism. The stimulating prospect of seeing new places and learning new things. Disappointment is a foreign concept. Alan wondered if life got any better than the moment you were leaving familiarity behind to embark on an exploratory vacation.

  The three of them began walking down one of the trails through the mercenary course towards the Mparian landing craft. The hover truck with the crate of goliagrass was now moving up the ramp.

  “This should be fun for me as well,” Trodenjo said. “I’m looking forward to learning more about your culture and seeing what you think about The Measure. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  *

  “Why me?” Brandon asked. For the first time ever, he found himself resenting his blind obedience to Olut6’s requests.

  “Because you’re so extat good, Brandon.”

  “I don’t know if I’m buying that this time, General. I’ve never negotiated treaties or done any kind of intelligence work. The only thing I’ve ever excelled at—that’s been helpful to you, anyway—is, let’s face it, playing video games. And, to be perfectly honest, I think I’m finally outgrowing those.”

  “That’s okay. You’ll have a full crew with you. A good one, Brandon. You can help choose it if you like. You don’t need to do any flying or shooting yourself. Especially shooting. Hopefully. This is mostly a diplomatic mission.”

  “For which I’m woefully unqualified.”

  Olut6 shook his head. “Incorrect. You’re the only one who is qualified for this, the way I see it. The Azaarians don’t trust us.”

  “Oh,” Brandon said. “Now I see. You want an alien to approach them.”

  “An unimposing alien. No offense, but Earthlings are one of the least threatening species I’ve come across, physically speaking.” Olut6 laughed. “Particularly when facing off with a large-framed Azaarian. They even make Torians nervous.”

  “Great. You want to send a small weak guy in to interrogate big strong guys.”

  “That is precisely what I mean to do. I believe it’s my best chance for success.”

  “Success at what?” Brandon asked.

  “Finding out where the dark enemy is, and what they’re up to—or better yet, drawing them out for a fight somewhere other than Tora.”

  “Draw them out? My role in this is starting to sound more like bait than diplomat.”

  “Call it what you want,” Olut6 said. “If you’re concerned about the risk, I won’t deny there is some danger in this assignment. Especially if my suspicions are validated. But I think we can design a process that will keep you and your crew reasonably safe. Plus, we’ll send some special gadgets along I think you’ll appreciate.”

  Brandon gazed out the window of Olut6’s office. “It’s nearly 5,000 light years across the galaxy,” he said with a sigh.

  Olut6 nodded “A three-day journey. In a nice, comfortable Class-3 transport ship. There’s a full gym on board, video games, all the—”

  “If I went that far in the opposite direction, I could almost be back at Earth.”

  “Would you like to go back to Earth?”

  The question gave Brandon pause. Olut6 never offered him that before. Brandon had certainly pestered him with it, along with every politician who would listen to him, several decades ago. That was back before the humans had come to appreciate life on Banor. Now the High General finally volunteers it after all these years. And Brandon could tell he was serious.

  But Brandon also knew the High General expected him to decline the offer. Maybe he should call his bluff, just for spite.

  Ultimately, though, something as prodigious as an Earth pilgrimage wasn’t Brandon’s call to make. The idea would need to be circulated and discussed in the human communities on Banor. Brandon already knew most of them would be against it. But there were a small number of misfits who would, no doubt, jump at the chance. Such an undertaking would be too monumental of an event to arrange for only a
few rogues. There would need to be a rally in favor of this cause significant enough to divide the Torian humans. If such a thing happened, it would be bittersweet and even a little tragic. Families, friendships, and homes would be split.

  Brandon’s daughter, Rachel2, would probably be against the idea, as would most of the second generation. They never knew Earth. The stories they heard of it were a mixed bag at best. Yes, the first-generationers would often look starry-eyed at the night sky and reminisce about “home.” But other times they would relay tales of crime, poverty, natural disasters, unjust governments, and astonishing cruelties carried out in the name of political activism. By comparison, Banor was a paradise void of those particular elements. Its hazards mostly came from outside its society, not from within. That seemed more appropriate to Brandon.

  Then there were the babies. Lots of adorable human babies, whom even the native females were smitten with. Rachel2’s boyfriend was a good man who was respected in Banorian culture. Brandon liked him. They had been dating for two years now, which probably meant that Brandon could expect to be a grandfather soon. It was rare on Earth for people to know their great grandchildren, but on Banor parents had every expectation of playing catch with their great great grandchildren. How could you possibly transport so many happy, booming families with small children across the galaxy to their “home planet” when most of them only know of it by legend?

  Did Brandon even want to go back? That was a question he was embarrassed to explore. By all reasonable logic, he should. Rachel, too. They could probably drag Rachel2 with them, as could many first-generationers also likely coerce their children to go wherever they went. It would take coercing, because to leave the known for the unknown was a tough sell.

  And the state of Earth was unknown. If the pending orbital shift had not yet occurred, assuming there was truth in it, it was entirely possible they could all get back just in time to be wiped out in a massive worldwide disaster. If not, then perhaps they would be able to settle in and, if all goes well, live out life expectancies that were half of those on Banor.