Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (18 page)

But then he found the right mouth position to blow from. The resulting drumbeat was delightful, at least to his own ears. The three of them were now producing percussion notes, if not yet coordinating them into music. The lure to learn the instrument better and harmonize their beats was strong. In the background was the rhythmic beat from the drum circle at the nearby civic arena. It too requested conformity.

“Let’s move to the arena if you’re going to play these now,” Threeclack said. “We discourage individual street performances.”

Alan wanted to tell him no, that they weren’t going to play these now, that they only wanted to get the elevation boots and go rock climbing. But darn it, he was starting to blow on the instrument the right way. He could now get several different beats from it. He just needed a little more practice and he would have it down. Jumper would have to tell Threeclack to take them to the shoe store.

None of them said anything. The three of them all kept the tupinx to their lips and followed Threeclack to the open arena. Most of the natives playing were sitting at the higher levels. Alan, Jumper, and Shaldan sat down on the bottom steps. They still had a bit of a learning curve if their music was to come together and then blend in with the rest of the drum circle.

“Strange,” Threeclack said as he surveyed the arena. “Not as many here today.” He looked down, reached to the steps, and picked up an object. It was a tupinx. “And someone left their instrument here unattended. I’ve never seen that before.”

Alan was starting to get the hang of it now. He, Jumper, and Shaldan nodded to each other and smiled as their beats began to harmoniously blend. This was cool. But they were going rock climbing. Rock climbing. Alan thought about going up the rocks as he continued playing. He imagined himself ascending upward in the middle of the arena, floating above it, rising towards the opening in the rocks from the inside. The sun was shining through now.

They played. Alan floated around the arena on the gentle updraft of musical notes. The drum beats all blended. The three of them were an integral part of the circle now, equally contributing to the wonderful percussion music permeating throughout the grand rock city. So they kept playing. The sunlight coming through the opening above grew bright, and they basked in its glory. It eventually grew dim again. They kept playing.

*

Everyone on the bridge felt the impact on the outer hull.

“What was that?” Brandon shouted.

“Possible meteor collision,” the captain replied. “Wait. Ice. An ice meteor. Damage to the hull is minimal. But that was a small one. We’re surrounded by them, Commander.”

Brandon looked to the main screen. He got a glimpse of them now, between the ship and the frozen ringed planet beneath them. They were dark and hard to see at first. But now and again a gleam from the faint Azaarian sun—or sparkle of light from the transport ship—would reflect from an ice rock.

“Maneuver us out of danger, Captain.”

“I will if I can, but this whole area is an ice field. And we must move slowly. Navigator, help me out here.”

Another impact thudded on the outside hull.

“How much damage can these big ice cubes do to us?” Brandon asked.

“They can smash us to bits, Brandon. We’ll try to get away from the worst of it.”

Brandon watched as the captain, assisted by the chief navigation officer, steered the ship on an erratic course. They took more hits in the process, but not as bad as the first two. Brandon figured they were driving through the smaller ice pieces to avoid the larger ones. They finally stopped and turned the ship back around.

“This is as good as it’s going to get, Commander. We’re in the middle of a significant ice-meteor belt. The rings around the planet are the larger pieces that got caught in an orderly orbit.”

“Launch the fighters, then.” Brandon came around to the captain’s station. “Let the boys get some target practice while we wait for Perry.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” The captain gave the order and the hangar door opened at the rear of the ship.

As soon as the fighters launched, the ITF1 appeared on the main forward screen. Perry had gotten safely away from Azaar, thank Erob. Brandon watched as his dag began to cool—but then it went bright again. The ITF1 vanished just before a large ice meteor flew right through where it had materialized.

“That was some heads up flying,” Brandon mumbled.

Perry’s vessel appeared again, much closer to the transport ship this time. The three conventional fighters that had launched saw the ITF1 and fired lasers all around it, taking out the closest ice rocks. As the hangar door was still open, the ITF1 proceeded to dock. Ten minutes later Perry was on the bridge with Brandon.

“Quite a welcome back party you arranged for me,” he said. The video screens now showed the fighters zipping about, using their lasers to make small ice meteors out of big ones.

“Sorry about that.” Brandon smiled and patted Perry on the back. “I badly overestimated the time I needed. Glad you got back when you did, and then made it out of there okay. Nice flying to avoid that chunk of ice, too.”

Perry nodded. “That’s a good ITF1 crew we have with us. The Azaarians apparently weren’t too fond of whatever you said to them. Perhaps brazen accusations weren’t the best tactic after all.”

“Actually, they were. Olut6 was right. It was a little dangerous, but in the end that was the best way to fish for intelligence.”

“You got something out of them?”

“Yes. Now I need to sit down, gather my thoughts, and figure out what it is.”

“Need any help?” Perry asked.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Brandon put his hand back on Perry’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get an argim and figure out whether we’re going home or going to Dirg.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Perry turned to walk off the bridge but his foot kicked the tupinx that was still on the floor. It scooted a ways, then spun around in circles.

“What in Erob is that?”

“Oh,” Brandon said. “That infernal thing. A musical instrument. Plays like a flute, sounds like a drum. Some gift. Damn near put us to sleep and got us all killed! If that was by design it was wickedly devious. I want it analyzed in the lab.”

Brandon reached down and picked up the tupinx. Almost as an afterthought, he then grabbed the Chenel bracelet from a vacant workstation where he had set it down.

“This too, while we’re at it. Let’s go.”

Brandon and Perry left the bridge and made their way to the onboard science lab. The scientist on duty was a thin Banorian with dull bronze skin. He was wide awake, watching the shooting gallery outside on his monitor. He appeared to be fascinated by the black ice meteors and expressed a desire to harvest some of them. Brandon told him it wasn’t going to happen and got him busy examining the Azaarian gadgets.

“I want to know if there’s any tiny working parts, any unseen power source, any hollow caverns, any broadcasting devices, or any waves of any kind emitting from either of these items,” he said before he and Perry left for the lounge.

Brandon found that Perry was just as thirsty as he was. They both chugged down half of their first mug of argim before sitting down at their favorite table.

“Anything to report?” Brandon asked.

“No. It was boring. I took a nap. Our sensors picked up nothing. We were out in empty space somewhere. Much less exciting than this place.” Perry motioned to the video screen above the bar.

Brandon looked up in time to see two fighters converge their lasers on one large ice rock. It exploded spectacularly. Thousands of tiny ice pellets could be heard raining on the ship’s hull afterwards.

“Right. I sure can pick the spots.”

“This is a good rendezvous, Brandon. It’s unlikely the Azaarians can see us on their scopes, assuming they bother to look here. Even if they are able to positively identify us among all these meteors, no fleet commander in their right mind would order their ships into this.”

“No, I suppose not. But no general in their right mind would amass his entire force to come after a small transport ship like ours, either.”

“Unless they’re afraid of the light weapon,” Perry said before taking a drink.

Brandon frowned.

“What?”

“After my talk with the Azaarian general, I don’t think they’re as afraid of that as they were before.”

Perry set his mug down. “I hope they didn’t get more intelligence from you than you got from them.”

“No …no. I would call it an even exchange at best.”

Perry chuckled. “So what did you get out of them?”

“A feeling, mostly. I strongly suspect the dark enemy has made contact with the Azaarians. Something the emissary said, when I caught him off guard for a brief moment, indicated that they’ve had to make some kind of concessions in order to secure their own survival.”

“Concessions with another race of beings?”

“Not necessarily. Concessions of some sort.”

“That’s not much, Brandon.”

“Extat, I know it’s not much. That’s why I’m talking this through with you. Let me ask you this: Do you think Olut6 wants me to go to Dirg and sound a war alarm based on my intuition? Or does he want me to have tangible intelligence first?”

Perry thought for a minute.

“He trusts you like nobody else. You know that. I’d say a mix that includes mostly intuition would be all right, as long as you have at least some hard intelligence to back it up. You couldn’t get any details from the emissary at all, about what kind of concessions he was talking about?”

“I accused him of forming an unwise alliance with evil in a vain attempt at self-preservation, or something along those lines. Unfortunately, it shocked him back to reality. But his reaction was in itself a form of evidence, and I think that kind of perception is why Olut6 sent me here and not someone else. The emissary quickly changed the subject. But the cursory look on his face only further confirmed my suspicions…”

“You think you can decipher Azaarian facial expressions?”

The question annoyed Brandon. He glared at Perry. Perry only raised his eyebrows. Brandon then realized Perry was doing his job well. This was exactly what Brandon needed, an objective voice of reason.

“What about the general?” Perry asked. “Did you get anything tangible out of him?”

“No. He’s one cool customer. Still, there’s a feeling I can’t shake when I think about him. There were some hesitations in our conversation where I thought I could read something. When I mentioned Dirg he seemed concerned. And I’ll tell you this much: If I were a general who made a deal with the devil for my own survival, I think I would have acted the same way he did. Including the ridiculous show of force afterwards.”

“You’ve got next to nothing,” Perry said. He drained the rest of his glass. “If you decide to proceed to Dirg, you’ll be doing it on 95% intuition. Is 5% tangible intelligence enough to go by? That’s the question you need to ask yourself.”

“No,” Brandon grumbled. “It’s not. But my feelings are strong. I believe Olut6 is right about everything. Which means he’s probably right about Dirg being attacked soon, too. I don’t understand why he wants me to go there if I’m able to confirm these suspicions, though.”

“To warn the Dirgs, obviously. And to relay any intelligence you have to our boys. I’m sure the High General has patrols checking in there frequently.”

“You know you’re right, Perry. I’ll sound like a fool if I go there and tell them I have a feeling Azaar and the dark enemy will be attacking them soon. Like you said, it’s not enough. I guess we should just go home, even if it’s a move that contradicts my instincts. But we ought to be able to subdue those with another glass of argim.”

Brandon’s prediction failed. It took two more glasses of argim, during which he went back over everything that happened to him on Azaar. Perry was patient with him. He didn’t want to make a critical mistake and disappoint Olut6, either. But in the end, he was right. Brandon had a reputation for good instincts, but the decision to sound a war alarm could not be responsibly made on instinct alone.

As they each finished their third mug, the scientist from the onboard lab appeared at their table. He was holding the tupinx, but the black box had been removed from it. He set the black box on the table, held the flute to his mouth, and played. Regular flute music came forth. There was nothing particularly captivating about it.

“This,” the scientist said, picking the black box back up, “is interesting. It converts sound waves. You asked about power sources. It incorporates a small self-regenerating hydrogen fuel cell. Nothing too remarkable, but the design is unique. I’ve only seen one other power cell of that same design before. It was in the original Azaarian polwar game. I was part of the team on Amulen who dissected the game set at the Science Complex.”

Brandon scowled. “Then you were part of the team who duplicated it, and engineered its production on Amulen?”

“No.” The scientist’s flat expression remained unchanged. “That was a different department. Production of the game was a project commissioned by the C2 governor. Now, the other device you gave me—what you said was a bracelet—is actually a transmitter. It contains a communication of some type.”

Brandon stood up. “A communication? What’s the communication?”

“A holographic message, but the technology is foreign and difficult to crack. I can only retrieve a glimpse of it using the equipment we have on the ship. But it looks like it might be…”

“Might be what?”

“Of possible military importance. Come. I’ll show you.”

Brandon and Perry followed him back to the lab. The bracelet was sitting on a round metal plate on a cart in the middle of the room.

“Watch.” The scientist touched a switch on the cart. A field of faint yellow light came on above the plate and the bracelet elevated about a foot. The scientist then adjusted an instrument on the side of the cart. A small green beam came forth and connected to the bell-shaped charm on the bracelet.

Within two seconds, an image like a holographic video appeared in the air above the charm. It was fuzzy and difficult to see, but Brandon could make out a discernable object every now and then, such as a planet viewed from space. There was also some sound, what sounded like a possible narrative. But it was distorted and impossible to understand.