by Andy Kasch
But what kind of lives would those be? It was probable that most Earthlings still considered themselves alone in the galaxy. A thousand new humans suddenly showing up from outer space as a “returned abductee race” would result in worldwide social upheaval. They would all be celebrities, and perhaps not the good kind. Brandon could envision them being slandered, labeled freaks, and forever drawing the suspicion of others. They might even be relegated outcasts by the ugly reality of human bigotry.
Unless they could be returned covertly. That’s the only way. It would be quite a challenge to accomplish, but it could be done. Imagine that. A thousand humans with no identity, no history, no dental records. Was this undertaking included in the High General’s unexpected offer? Assuming they pulled it off, where would that put them all? On a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific somewhere? What kind of life would that be? How could they get rescued, and what would their story be?
“I didn’t mean to send you off to a mental boot camp,” Olut6 said.
Brandon refocused and realized he’d been staring at the High General all this time.
“Let’s forget about Earth for now,” Brandon said. “Why don’t you run by the specifics of this proposed assignment again, slowly?”
“There’s not that much too it, Brandon. I’ll send you and a carefully chosen crew to Azaar on a specially equipped Class-3 transport ship. You’ll take up orbit there, open a general broadcasting frequency, and request to speak to their foreign relations ambassador. They probably won’t respond immediately, and might send some fighters out to try and scare you. At that point, you should make your identity known and stress the fact that you are a Tora-authorized delegate, but also let them know you’re an Earthling come to have a parley.”
“And you think that will convince them to receive me?”
“Maybe,” Olut6 said. “If not, I trust you to convince them in your own profound way.”
Brandon nodded. “It’s a wise leader who allows his trusted subordinates a wide degree of discretion.”
Olut6 ignored his comment. “Once you’re in conference with them, don’t waste time on cordiality. That’s a weakness. Clobber them over the head with a demand. Ask them flat-out what their transport ship was doing hiding in the sub-atmosphere of HD28.”
“And how do you think they’ll respond?”
“By stalling, of course, while they communicate with higher authority. Hopefully, someone from the high command will then show up. They’ll grill you with questions first. Put up with it for a short while only, and then repeat your demand. At that point, you’ll need to use your brain again and figure out how to let them know we mean business. Don’t threaten them with war, though. You can get close to that, but stop short of it.”
“All right,” Brandon said. “Assuming I get this far, and they don’t lock me up or toss me out on my ass, they’ll now offer some kind of explanation for their transport ship being spotted acting suspiciously. Then what?”
“Whatever it is, tell them you don’t believe it and that the Tora military suspects them of withholding knowledge about the dark-ship enemy who attacked us five years ago.”
Brandon shook his head. “But that has no logical connection to their ship being seen at that hydro-dwarf planet.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“This whole thing is a ruse, Brandon. It’s just an excuse to accuse them. I want to see what kind of reaction they give you.”
“What if their reaction involves killing the insolent foreign delegate?”
“Highly unlikely.”
“So you say.” Brandon placed his elbow on Olut6’s desk and held his head by the temples. “Then what?”
“At this juncture you’ll be involved at quite a deep level. You’ll know what to do. They’ll either give you a useful bit of information—purposefully or inadvertently—or they won’t.”
“If they don’t?”
“Come home and report. Mission over.”
“What if they do reveal something we don’t know about the dark enemy?”
“In that case, send a message back to me and go to Dirg. It’s only an additional half-day journey.”
Brandon lifted his head. “I don’t know if I’m up for this, General. I see what you’re trying to do. But I’m not feeling it. I do understand why you want an Earthling for this bit of dirty work. There are others who can do this for you. I’m not the only intelligent, thinking human in Tora with military experience. This is more dangerous than you’re making it out to be, and you know it. I have a family here.”
“Brandon, I understand completely. Don’t give it another thought. I only offered the opportunity to you first because you’re the best I have. I’ve got another Earthling in mind in case you declined. A good one, too. An old friend of yours, in fact.”
“Perry,” Brandon said in unison with Olut6. The High General smiled.
“Yeah, he’s good,” Brandon said. “A little gung-ho in his younger days. I think he’s matured now and is more level-headed. And let’s face it, gung-ho might be what you need.”
Olut6 nodded and started typing on his lightpad.
Brandon thought about Perry. He was married now, too, but still in the service—and still loved all things military. Perry was the one who helped Jumper and Kayla design the mercenary course and the training exercises. The kids loved him.
The kids. So many second and third generation kids now. Yes, life was downright blissful on Banor, wasn’t it? Too blissful for Jumper and Alan, in fact. But it wasn’t as secure as it seemed. Nothing ever is. That evil force was still out there, lurking and unsatisfied. Arkan9 confirmed it the last time Brandon saw him five years ago. Oh, to see Arkan9 again. But he was far away. Even so, he would probably know more about how to protect Tora than Oult6—though Olut6 was an outstanding High General and everyone knew it.
If Tora wasn’t safe, they were darn fortunate to have a being like Olut6 defending it. And not just sitting around waiting for the next attack, hoping to be able to fend it off again. Going out where the evil was festering and trying to stop the infection before it made too much progress. That was the only reasonable course of action. A fool turns a blind eye and hopes it leaves him alone. It takes leaders with brains and determination to meet the enemy where they amass, often so far away in the public’s eye that the public questions the motives of their very protectors. But their protectors know how close that faraway illusion really is.
Brains and determination aren’t the only qualities necessary for fending off evil. It also takes spiritual discernment. You need to be able to recognize evil in order to keep it from infiltrating your house.
“Yes,” Brandon said. “Perry. He’s the one, General. He’s the one I’ll need as my second in command.”
*
“This ship is amazing,” Alan said.
Trodenmark smiled at him. “We’re only halfway through the tour.”
Jumper and Kayla appeared equally as impressed as Alan as they followed Trodenjo’s brother through the wide, well-lit corridors of The Measure. For someone who had only travelled on small local shuttles, this was a whole new world. Alan and Jumper had seen the inside of a Torian Class-1 transport ship once, on Jumper’s birthday several years ago when Brandon took them aboard one. That vessel seemed so basic and utilitarian now, compared to this. Everywhere you walked on this ship it felt more like a home than a transportation vehicle.
The Measure was a wonder from the moment they approached it. The long v-hulled craft was sleeker than most transport ships with that double-dag drive positioned just past the middle of the hull. Alan thought the shuttle was going to land on top of the ship when they came to it, but then a section of the hull lifted up and provided an easy-approach hangar opening. Because it opened and closed quickly upon receiving the landing craft, the wait time for re-pressurization was minimal. Deck hands were out within minutes ready to unload the cargo, but Trodenjo decided to leave the crate of goli
agrass on the shuttle since they were travelling directly to Mpar.
Upon boarding, Alan, Jumper, and Kayla were taken to a comfortable cabin area that was completely surrounded by video screens accurately showing the outside of the ship’s hull. The three of them accepted the offer of a mild alcoholic drink. It was similar to argim in taste but with a dryer, pleasant bitterness.
The cabin was positioned directly between the two dag drives. When they lit up with an orange fire, Alan nearly dropped his drink. The video screens were so clear it was easy to forget you were safely tucked away deep in the hull of the ship. Suddenly the stars around them were displacing themselves, swirling, blending together and separating again in unpredictable patterns. So that’s what it looked like to bend space. And the three of them felt …nothing. It was so smooth they could have been in a theatre watching it all on a simulation.
Then the tour started. Trodenmark first showed them through both civilian and military barracks, and then the mixed socializing areas. The Mparians they met along the way were all extremely cordial, military and non-military personnel alike.
Approximately one-third of the crew was female. Mparians resembled Earthlings in many ways physically. The males were stockier and more muscular; the females had pleasantly rounded features including small but noticeable busts. They wore clothes not much different in design than the climate-controlled outfits most Torian humans took to, except the material was thinner. You could tell they weren’t used to having visitors and were thrilled to be hosts. Plus, they were all excited to be coming home after being away for a year. Everyone was always smiling.
The way Mparians smiled was unique. They were a dark-pigmented species with soft skin almost resembling that of humans, except it was tougher and rumpled on their faces, especially around their foreheads. Alan figured it was natural protection for their larger eyes. Their normal expression seemed to leave the middle of their mouth in a naturally open position. But when they smiled, the middle of their mouth closed and the corners opened, exposing teeth on both sides of their wide noses. And the smiles were so genuine they were contagious. It would be difficult not to like Mparians. That was a desirable attribute for a trader to possess.
Trading. That was the sole purpose of this massive vessel, to become a profitable interstellar business. The Measure was, at its essence, a giant travelling storefront. Jumper and Kayla were understandably captivated by that aspect of it.
Trodenmark walked them into a large circular room that he referred to as their primary datacenter. A team worked here around the clock devising strategies based on their catalog of goods and customer profiling algorithms. These Mparians were serious businesspeople. They didn't do anything half-assed, and were diligent to a fault in exploring merchandising opportunities. Every supplier of goods had been profiled and studied intently. Every supplier was a potential customer of something else. It was the crew of The Measure’s purpose in life to discover what and bring it to them. Thus far, they had established trading relationships with 14 different worlds, counting Tora.
It always started with supply. Trodenmark explained that the worlds the Mparians contacted were less resistant to solicitations from buyers. It made sense to Alan. People are usually open to generating more income. Converting the sellers into buyers of other goods was phase two. That part was still in the beginning stages, but already four different races had placed orders for goods in The Measure’s catalog.
According to Trodenmark, the workmanlike approach of every member of their merchant team would ensure their eventual success. On their second run, they expected to double their customer base and further expand their catalog, becoming instantly profitable in so doing.
Next to the primary datacenter was a small room with a holographic trading game. It was Trodenjo’s brainchild, described by his brother as an innovative way to train merchants. The Measure employed two full-time programmers just to maintain and improve the game scenarios. They had successfully created a virtual galaxy in which they could simulate Mpar’s new interstellar trade enterprise. Playing the game was a way to test certain scenarios and stay mentally sharp in formulating merchant strategies. This was what Trodenjo credited as his edge; the reason The Measure would be the first profitable commercial ship in the fleet and, hopefully, the most successful Mparian operation in the long run.
Jumper was fascinated by the prospect of the game and it was difficult to tear him away from it. Trodenmark had to promise him he could come back to it after finishing the tour.
“I can’t take you through the military stations for security reasons,” Trodenmark said. “But I’d like to show you some of our defense systems, so you know you’re on a safe ship.”
They followed him into a smaller room. Trodenmark walked over to a wall and touched a panel there. It went dark. A second later, a 3-D holographic image of The Measure appeared in the center of the room.
“Wow,” Kayla said.
The image was ghostly at first, but then became more acute with lots of color and added detail.
“The Measure may look like a peaceful vessel,” Trodemark’s voice said from the rear, “and we certainly desire it to be so. But should the need arise, it can be transformed into a first-class warship on demand.”
Suddenly, large gun barrels rose out of nowhere on the holographic image from the top, bottom, and sides pointing in all directions. The bigger ones swiveled as well. In addition, side panels peeled away in places and small blips of light—missiles—sped away from the holographic image.
“We also carry five squadrons of fighters.”
More hidden compartments opened. Images of sleek fighter craft emerged from four different locations and quickly gathered into formations about the ship.
“Do you have any special weapons?” Alan asked.
“What do you mean?” Trodenmark sounded bewildered, as if he expected them all to be overwhelmed by what they had already seen. Alan noticed Kayla also giving him an incredulous look.
“The Torian military uses something called REEP,” Alan explained, “which is a directionally-targeted magnetic repulsion blast weapon. It’s manufactured in different calibers. Our space station is defended by an extremely powerful version of that technology.”
“From what I’ve heard,” Trodenmark replied, “that’s not the only uniquely powerful defense system your station employs.”
“Anything else is classified and we wouldn’t know about it.” Alan tried not to let his voice waver. But he could see Trodenmark studying him with those big eyes in the dim light. It caused him to fidget. He found himself wishing Brandon hadn’t confided in him and Jumper about the true source of the mysterious light weapon everyone else in the galaxy now thought Tora possessed. Alan knew he and Jumper weren’t as strong as they liked to think. Someone like Trodenmark might be able to read them, and discern military secrets simply by winning a staring contest. Alan and Jumper having this knowledge could only be a potential liability to Torian security. But then, Brandon never imagined they would be on an alien vessel discussing military weapons technology when he disclosed the secret.
“We have nothing quite like your REEP weapon,” Trodenmark finally said. “But the big guns can fire ordinance in addition to the largest laser beams you’ve ever seen. The ordinance is a compacted ball of photon energy and is fired like a giant mortar, to impressive distances. A direct hit can disable a large vessel, and a charge placed in the center of an enemy fighter squadron can reduce its size significantly.”
The lights came back on and the holograph model of The Measure flickered and vanished.
“Come on,” Trodenmark said. “I’ll show you to lodging and food.”
The remainder of tour included a lesson on how to order in a public dining hall, a stop in a lounge for a stimulating beverage resembling coffee, and the assignment of three sleeping compartments. The beds were small and hard, just the way Alan liked them. Trodenmark gave Jumper a compact communication device so he could reach him anytime. The
three of them were welcome to roam The Measure at their own will through any of the sections included on the tour and enjoy all the food and beverages they cared for.
“Can you take us back to that trading game?” Jumper asked. Alan laughed and Kayla rolled her eyes, but Trodenmark obliged. Alan made a mental note of how to get back to their rooms as they followed him to the game room.
Trodenmark set it up for three people. Alan, Jumper, and Kayla sat at stations on opposite sides of the round terminal. Each of them had a ship like The Measure to command. A simulated Erobian Sphere full of advanced worlds, some friendlier than others, was out there for each of them to explore. Their mission was to make friends, establish relationships, and catalog trade goods. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, Trodenmark assured them, so he set it at a beginner’s level. He also showed them how to work the defense features, though he sternly reminded them that this wasn’t a meant to be a military video game.
“The real trick to it is customer profiling,” he said. “Remember, everyone wants to sell and no one wants to buy. But as you learn things about your sellers you’ll discover needs even they don’t yet know they have, and find creative ways of fulfilling them.”
He showed Jumper how to reset it for a new game in case they wanted to play more than one round.
“But I’m warning you, this can be addictive so you might want to go get something to eat, or relax in the lounge with a drink at least, between games. And don’t let it rob you of sleep.” Trodenmark rose to leave, but stopped before exiting the room.
“Oh, and one more thing. The programmers added some new logic based on our crew’s recent findings. I haven’t had time to personally test it yet. But supposedly, the worlds on the outer edges of the known galactic region are now prone to being more hostile. You’ll be a lot more likely to find yourself transforming your vessel into a warship if you spend too much time in those areas, from what I’ve been told. Especially if you don’t take the hint and leave right away when you’re not finding yourself welcome. I’ll remind you one more time that such activity is unproductive.”
