Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (22 page)

“Yes,” Admiral Hochob added. “You and Bleear almost make me want to believe in prophets.”

The general only hissed.

*

“I need to get down faster,” Jumper said, “and stop her, if I can. This is my only chance.” He slipped the left elevation boot on over his disabled gravity shoe as he spoke. When it was on, he squeezed the button on the tongue and the boot scrunched up snug around his foot and ankle.

“Okay,” Alan said. “Maybe you’re right. Be careful in those things and give them a slow trial before you try to descend too quickly. I’m sure there’s a learning curve.”

Alan then turned to Shaldan. “We better start climbing down.”

Shaldan gazed at Jumper and seemed concerned. “Shouldn’t we take the backpack? One less thing for you to try and coordinate, which could throw you off balance.”

“He’s right,” Alan said. “I’ll take it.”

“Okay. Wait.” Jumper dug to the bottom of his pack. When his hand reappeared, it held the laser.

“I’m the one who figures to need this most. Here you go.” Jumper gave Alan the backpack. He then seemed to notice the other tupinx, which was still lying on the rock. Jumper picked it up.

“And you’re probably right about these.” He hurled his tupinx down the mountainside in the same manner Alan had.

Alan chuckled as he strapped the pack on his back. “Priorities, priorities. Let’s see if you can get those things turned on.”

Jumper kicked his heel with the toe of his other foot. Lights came on at the bottom of the boots accompanied by a low whirring sound. In another moment, he pitched forward. Fortunately, he fell on Alan and Shaldan, who pushed him back upright. Alan noticed he felt light.

“Whoa!” Alan said. “Easy! Learning curve.”

Jumper grabbed ahold of a sapling and steadied himself. He then practiced leaning forward and backward in the boots. When he seemed to think he had it down, he let go—and propelled himself straight out over the precipice.

“Hey!” Alan yelled. But it was too late—or it would have been, had the boots not worked. Jumper held in place in the air. He then pointed his toes sharply down and began his descent.

Alan turned to Shaldan and shook his head. “It’s not easy being his friend sometimes. Come on, let’s get going. A little less vigorously.”

Shaldan was shortly off the mesa and finding footholds below him.

“I believe you,” he said. “Thought he was going to knock us both over the edge for a moment.”

The two of them began climbing down. Occasionally, they argued about which way they had come up. They went with whoever seemed surer. It seemed to work. They didn’t get cornered in any dead ends.

When they were about a third of the way down, they came to another familiar ledge and stopped to rest. At least they were on the right course. That’s when Alan noticed Jumper wasn’t much further below them.

“Man. Jumper could have just climbed down with us, for all the progress he’s making. Maybe he’s being a little too cautious. I’m glad to see that, but it’s not like him. Especially when he thinks Kayla needs help.”

“Remember,” Shaldan said between breaths, “Threeclack said those were mostly for safety, and they use different models for rapid altitude movement.”

They continued their descent. At the next resting place, Alan looked for Jumper—but didn’t see him.

“Where’s Jumper?” he said. “He couldn’t have picked up that much momentum.”

“Oh no,” Shaldan replied. “There he is.”

Alan looked across the valley where Shaldan was pointing. There was Jumper, out in the open air at least a hundred meters above the ground, hovering towards the opposite mountain range. Below him in the distance, Kayla and Casanova had reached the bend and were about to enter the canyon. They were moving cautiously, thank Erob.

Alan laughed. “That nut. Although I expected him to do something like that.”

Shaldan shook his head. “Not safe. He’s exposed to gusts of wind from the canyons out there. Not to mention being a convenient target for whoever fired that laser.”

“I’m going to have to side with Jumper on this one,” Alan said. “That’s his woman down there. And I’m sure he’s planning on staying behind cover when he reaches the other mountain. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Alan and Shaldan continued their downward climb, but too anxiously now. Alan’s foot slipped and caused another mini-landslide. This time, Alan became part of it. He managed to keep his balance as he slid down the slope amidst the dust cloud and rolling stones. Fortunately, it wasn’t too steep at this place and he was able to remain upright. But he could see a drop-off fast approaching. He needed to find something to grab on to.

There wasn’t anything. Alan was forced to fall to his side to try and slow his slide. That possibly meant ripping his clothes and skin. So he went into a controlled roll. In this manner he could slow his movement, but it strained his ribs and stomach muscles. At the last moment he was finally able to stop. As he lay there flat and peering over the edge he almost went over, he noticed a natural staircase directly below him.

Shaldan carefully climbed down to the mini-ledge and touched Alan’s shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“That was well-executed, the way you stopped yourself. You two Earthlings really do have some climbing skills.”

“Look below us,” Alan said. “I think we found a shortcut, if we can drop down to it.”

“Yeah. I think you’re right.”

Alan lowered Shaldan down to the next ledge and then Shaldan eased Alan down on top of him. From there, they were able to make rapid progress on the step-like rock protrusions and reached the ground faster that Alan anticipated. When they got there, Alan looked across the open ground to the opposite range.

“Jumper’s close to reaching the other mountain. Wait. He’s there. Looks like he might climb down at that spot, as it figures to be faster than those boots will descend.”

“I see him,” Shaldan said. “The elevation boots ended up taking him over there pretty fast, all things considered. Kayla and Casanova must have rounded the bend. Should we run to catch them?”

“Actually, I was thinking I should run and maybe you should go back to the city and try to find help. If there is some kind of trouble out there, as seems likely, we don’t figure to be much of a rescue team with only one weapon between all of us.”

“Not counting your cat,” Shaldan said rubbing his shoulder. “I’ll run for help if you think that’s best.”

Alan nodded. “I think its best.”

Another minute’s rest and then the two of them took off running in opposite directions. Shaldan towards the underground city entrance, and Alan towards the curve in the path that turned into the canyon. Kayla and Casanova were already in there, probably moving slowly behind whatever structure was along the base. Up above them somewhere was Jumper, climbing down.

And farther in the canyon were Fardo, Kush, Threeclack, and his companions.

Hopefully.

*

The Ulorkian village resembled a Sheen village from the air, except that the huts were bigger. Brandon wondered if all the Erob half-breed races, throughout the entire Erobian Sphere, all took to this type of simple existence. Something told him they did. It must be in the Erob blood. Brandon had come to appreciate the Sheen lifestyle, but now that he thought about it, choosing to live this way in a modern space-age society was a bit peculiar. It reminded him of the Amish communities back in Midwest America.

The spot where the Ulorks wanted him to land was obvious. A small crowd had gathered on one side of a clearing. It was the only possible landing place, as the village extended into forests and hills in every other direction. There were several Dirg shuttles parked along the opposite edge of the clearing. Brandon’s pilots managed to make a graceful landing.

Brandon felt a little awkward coming out of his craft in front of such a welcoming committee. He could tell his two pilots felt the same way, so he left them on board. They seemed relieved at his instructions to wait for him. There was nothing here they would likely appreciate.

The Ulorks were interesting in appearance. While they retained many of the unsavory attributes of the Dirgs, such as a gelatinous flesh telegraphing emotional reactions through pulsations, their skin was differently colored. Instead of green and yellow splotches, it was more of a rich yellow which emanated the white light characteristic of Erob half-breeds. At least from what Brandon could see. They wore the familiar cloaks which kept their skin from giving off too much light.

One Ulork stood in front of the rest. As Brandon suspected, it turned out to be Bleear. Brandon instantly liked him. There was something about his eyes that seemed warm and caring, although Brandon couldn’t look into them for more than a glance at a time because of their brightness.

Brandon was offered a cup of fruit juice, which he gladly accepted. Bleear then led him into a hut which had no roof. There were two chairs and a table inside, nothing else. Brandon sat down and looked up at the exotic treetops above him, some of which held a spiked fruit of some sort, possibly the source of the drink in his hand. The juice was tart and sweet, similar to a nectarine in taste but red in color. The trees offered partial shade to the Dirg sun which felt good on Brandon’s face.

“What did you know of my arrival?” Brandon asked.

“Only that a small transport ship had arrived from Tora.” Bleear was calm and polite in his response.

“Why did you ask to meet with us?”

“I’ve never met a Torian before.”

“We have patrols that stop at Dirg regularly,” Brandon said. “Why my ship, and not one of those? I’m afraid I am suspicious of your answer. And I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not a Torian native.”

“No. You’re a member of a captive race who has been granted freedom. From …Earth?”

“Correct. But how would you know that?”

Bleear motioned towards the outside the hut. “One of our residents has recently returned from Milura. There he gained much knowledge of the residents and political situations on dozens of worlds in the sphere.”

“How was he able to travel back to Dirg?” Brandon asked.

“In a Torian transport ship that the Sheen keep.”

Brandon realized that could only be Arkan9’s transport ship. The one he came to Cardinal-4 in five years ago, bringing along the mysterious friend who saved the space station from attack via his awesome light weapon.

Brandon leaned forward and lowered his voice.

“Was there an …Erob on board? Did your friend meet any Erobs at Milura?”

Bleear smiled playfully. “Why did you want to meet with the Dirg half-breeds, Brandon? This is an unusual request from a visitor. Not that Dirg receives many visitors.”

Brandon studied Bleear for a minute in an attempt to determine his motives. His aloofness was irritating, but not atypical for a half-breed—especially one labeled a prophet. Perhaps he only wished for Brandon to go first in a quid pro quo. Brandon decided to oblige him.

“I believe there is more than meets the eye to the current trouble in the galaxy,” Brandon said. “I believe spiritual forces are involved every bit as much as space fleets with weapons. Specifically, I think an evil force is behind it all, one which subtly infiltrates our societies from the inside. To defeat it, wisdom is required. It is the half-breed races who have been the caretakers of such wisdom for thousands of years. I didn’t plan on seeing any Ulorks on Dirg, but after I arrived I heard my mouth requesting the meeting while my mind was having a distorted moment.”

“You’re the Earth prophet, aren’t you?”

Brandon was taken aback. “It seems you’ve correctly identified me, albeit by a label I did not seek, nor do I welcome. I must say I’m surprised to find I have a reputation in such a faraway place. I was told by Admiral Hochob that you are also known as a prophet by your people. If this is true, please don’t consider me a contemporary. I’m not a real prophet.”

Bleear laughed. “Neither am I. And I suspect no such thing exists in reality. Perhaps you and I simply share the same flairs, that of strong perception and abnormally accurate intuition. These gifts would seem to be occasionally given to certain students of Erob law—usually after a traumatic accident. Mine developed as the result of a near drowning incident in a sacred pool, which I fell into as a youth. I was trespassing at the time. Many find that ironic. What was your incident?”

Brandon pointed to his leg. “A serpent bite. It almost killed me.”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before suddenly breaking into unrestrained laughter together. They couldn’t help it. It was as if the ludicrous paradox of their situation had been officially unveiled. In so doing, they bonded with an outpouring of the souls, the kind of shared laughter that makes eternal friends of strangers. The barrier of formality between them had been permanently shattered.

“I’ve encountered a new threat,” Brandon said when they finally settled down. “At Azaar, and now on Dirg as well.”

Bleear’s expression turned serious. “The wind drums.”

“Yes. At Azaar they called it a tupinx. You know about them?”

Bleear nodded. “Your perception is in agreement with mine. The Dirgs are a strong people, but vulnerable in such ways. This is also how polwar came to our world, found in freight containers drifting in our space. What you and I see as an obvious device of a spiritual enemy is not so obvious to them, unfortunately. It is what has caused such a severe and tragic division between us. We objected too loudly, and now we have been removed. This was our folly; we preached too boldly to unconverted ears.”

“So it was polwar that caused the Ulorks to move to Milura?”

“That was the spark which ignited our final division,” Bleear said, “though the natives have been plagued by a festering spiritual depletion for several generations. Our cultures were thus driven apart beforehand. The natives suffer from irrational unbelief. When such a thing is allowed to flourish, the result is a denial of even that which you see before you. Such is the case with them. They are a good people, but unbelief has corrupted them.”