Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (25 page)

Before Alan could answer, she shot it across the cave. Rock splinters flew where it struck the wall.

“Um, there might be more of them out there,” Alan said.

Kayla grabbed Casanova’s leash and climbed down to the mouth.

“Fardo and Threeclack might be out there, too,” she said. “We came here to help them in case they’re in trouble, right? Plenty of daylight left. I don’t see any reason to abandon the rescue mission. Especially now that we’re armed.”

Alan looked at the foreign weapon in his own hand. The test beam he fired in the gulley suddenly seemed feeble, after witnessing the one coming from that hover ship.

“We didn’t know there were a bunch of hostile aliens down here,” Alan said. “Knowledge changes plans sometimes. It helps us form better plans. That ship could hold fifty or sixty of them. Maybe heading deeper into the canyon isn’t the best course of action. Shaldan ran for help. We could make our way back and try to hook up with whoever he brings out—or at least wait for them.”

Kayla shook her head. “We don’t know how long that will take, or even if he’ll be able to find any help. The Sulienites don’t strike me as being particularly responsive. For all we know, they’re all sitting around playing those flute things. And our friends might not have time to wait for help that may never arrive.” She looked at Jumper as if to solicit an endorsement, but, getting none, turned back to Alan.

“Besides, a small party moves faster and more covertly than a larger one. It’s certainly a good thing we were divided when they attacked us.” She gave Jumper an affectionate glance this time.

Jumper remained quiet and unanimated. He checked his weapon and then gave Alan a look that Alan recognized. No words were necessary. Alan knew what it meant. They were going forward with Kayla. Not because Jumper championed the idea. It was because he knew better than to waste energy arguing with her on the matter.

“Strange they’re not attacking yet,” Brandon said. “What are they waiting for? Why would they give us time to react?”

General Islog8 sneered at Brandon. “Your lack of training in fundamental tactics is a disgrace to my bridge, Earthling. This isn’t a skirmish. They’re amassing everything they have out there. This is it. This is
the
fight. They’re waiting until their total force is assembled, and aren’t concerned that we’re doing the same in the meantime. It’s almost as if they want us to. Which means one thing: they think they have us outmatched in sheer force.”

“Do they?” Brandon asked. The dark ships were continuing to appear, albeit at a slower pace now. They were dagging in farther away and using local propulsion to join the gigantic enemy front. Brandon hoped it wouldn’t get much bigger. It was already intimidating.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Islog8 said. “They evidently believe they have more than enough numbers to handle the entire Dirg military plus what they see of us. Hopefully, they aren’t counting on the Torian fleet doubling in size.”

The visible Dirg forces were also growing. Two dozen large warships could now be seen a little outside the planet’s orbit, with hundreds of fighters between them.

Brandon glanced at the side screens on the Torian command ship bridge where he now stood with the general. Torian fighters dotted the space between the transport ships. Between Dirg and Tora, they had an impressive amount of firepower here as well. Especially considering there were still reserves on Dirg, and the rest of Islog8’s fleet was due. When Brandon looked back to the enemy position, it didn’t look quite as overpowering as it did a few seconds earlier.

But it continued to grow.

“There is one other possibility,” Islog8 said. “That they’re sizing us up. Seeing how we react. It’s possible they’ll simply dag out again if they don’t like the looks of the defense.”

Brandon nodded. “To be honest, I don’t know if that would be better. We’re going to have to fight them sometime. It might be best to get it over with now.”

“Now that’s the first thing you’ve said I agree with.” The general walked over to the communications station and relayed some orders to another ship.

Brandon realized he probably wouldn’t be welcome on the general’s bridge much longer. He didn’t want to end up helplessly watching a war from a seat in a lounge. He needed to get back to his own bridge, and maybe dag the heck out of here.

“I’m leaving, General. Going back to my ship before the action starts.”

“Are you insane?” Islog8 said. “You’ll have to cross the open field. The firing could start any moment. Your shuttle skirting across no man’s land will look like a tenson bird in a shooting gallery. Would be one inviting target, too. Could be the spark that sets the whole thing off. I can’t let you do it. Why don’t you go find a comfortable seat in a lounge?”

Extat. Brandon had waited too long. But he wanted out of here, and wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“General, I can help. There’s an ITF2 on board my ship. With a good crew, too—except they’re better when I’m commanding them. I’m also trained as an alternate for one of the pilot positions. I need to get back.”

Islog8 stopped what he was doing and glared at Brandon. He then threw his hands in the air and walked in circles exclaiming curses.

“There’s less than a dozen of them in existence, as far as I know. Extat, I’ve only been given three. Prototypes that aren’t even fully armed. And Olut6 gives one to you. Oh, that’s perfect!”

“There’s more,” Brandon said. “We’re loaded with smart mines. Overloaded, actually. I have more than 800.”

Islog8 froze in place. “The ITF2 mine battery only holds 200.”

“I know, General. I’m prepared to offload them to you, should you be in need of the supply.”

“You’re extat right I’m in need of the supply. You know how many I have?”

“No.”

“None, that’s how many!”

“You’ve got 800 now, General. Send your three vessels to my ship and we’ll arm them. Could make all the difference in the battle.”

Islog8 pointed to the communications station. “Call your ship. Tell them to dag over to the rear of our position. I have one of the ITF2’s on board here.”

“I know. I saw it in the back of the hangar.”

“Extat! It’s supposed to be covered.”

“It was, General. I still recognized it.”

“All right, Brandon Foss. Call your ship. Now. I want these birds fully armed. Your shuttle stays here. I’ll have my ITF2 take you over directly so you can get her loaded. Followed by the other two. And here.” Islog8 handed Brandon an O-tube. “This patches through to me directly. Keep me apprised of your progress. And don’t engage any of your craft without orders from me!”

“Understood, General.”

A short while later, Brandon’s small transport ship had moved to the rear of the Torian position and Brandon was in the general’s ITF2 on his way to dock with it. Unfortunately, he was told to sit in the interior compartment next to the exercise equipment. There was one video screen there and it only showed the forward view. So he couldn’t see what was happening at the battle front. Brandon was tempted to radio the general and ask for a status report, but thought better of it. At last look, the accumulation of the enemy’s dark interstellar fighters had slowed considerably. They must be nearly assembled. But they weren’t attacking yet. What were they waiting for now?

Brandon’s intense will that the pilot speed up had no effect. The general’s ITF2 carefully maneuvered through the sea of Torian transport ships, fighters, and ITF1’s. Much too carefully for Brandon’s taste. No fun to be stuck down here without a proper view, even if being aboard this distinguished craft was something of a privilege.

The ITF2 was the latest piece of machinery to grace the Torian fleet. Only a few had been built so far. This unit was one of the first, no doubt—perhaps the first. Its development was considered a priority by Olut6, and Brandon could tell he was proud of the finished product: An interstellar transport fighter that used the new “virtual dag” technology, as the dark enemy ships did. The hull resembled that of the ITF1, only a little slimmer—except, of course, there was no outer distortion drive unit. The lack of that large torus-shaped ring meant it could land on any flat surface, including the floor of a hangar, whereas the ITF1 required a special docking arm and thus took considerably longer to dock.

That wasn’t all. A new weapons technology came with it: smart mines. Brandon spent a few hours playing with these in the simulator on the trip over. If they worked as well in real life, a catastrophic trap might be able to be set for the enemy. No bigger than bowling balls, they were a promising defensive device—that is, as long as you had captured the radiogenic identity of the intended target. Without it, the mines were useless. But once the target identity was uploaded to the mines they became armed and could then be deployed. They used little energy when sitting dormant and could thus be considered a “dark” ordinance. Truth be told it sounded like something that confounded dark enemy might have come up with. When a target came within the mine’s trip zone—which was nearly fifty kilometers in radius—the mines burst to life, converting themselves into an extraordinarily powerful missile and striking at near light speed. The target would never see it coming.

General Islog8 had three ITF2’s in his fleet, not counting Brandon’s unit, but no smart mines. Brandon had enough smart mines to fully arm all four crafts. That was no coincidence. This scenario unfolding was something straight out of Olut6’s singular imagination. Obviously, Islog8’s fleet had left on its mission before the new ITF2’s were fully ready. Brandon’s presence here would correct that. Each ITF2 could now have one fully stocked mine battery. There was no significant reserve beyond that, but having 800 of them may be enough. If they were employed properly, if the enemy could be lured into a massive trap, that would be all they need. Brandon’s mind was already at work attempting to devise such a scheme.

General Islog8’s personal ITF2 finally reached Brandon’s Class-3 transport ship. Brandon appreciated the fast docking and was out of the craft through the main cabin door as soon as the hangar was pressurized. The weapons crew on his ship was at the ready and went to work immediately. Brandon headed to the bridge.

“We sure were glad to get your orders to relocate,” the captain said when he arrived. “This is shaping up to be an all-out war. Will we be participating?”

Brandon couldn’t take his eyes off the forward screen. He was relieved to be back on his little vessel, where he was the one in command. Decisions involving the fate of his crew were now his to make. The situation hadn’t changed much, except for the Dirg formations. Many of their fighter squadrons had come out of orbit and were inching towards the enemy position. Brandon wondered if they were planning on firing the first shots. He couldn’t blame them if they did. This was their home, and a known enemy had just appeared with obvious hostile intentions.

At least none of the enemy’s killer satellites had shown up. Perhaps Tora’s frequency disturbance defense network had discouraged them from using those. But Brandon knew that was wishful thinking. There were numerous ways the enemy commanders could attempt to design a solution for that, and by now they had certainly figured out how Tora had thwarted them five years ago. Military leaders on both Dirg and Tora realized this, of course, and had been working together trying to develop alternative defense methods ever since.

That they even had time to work on the problem was a tremendous blessing. Brandon understood it was only possible because of one thing: fear of the light weapon. This was the factor that ultimately protected Tora, and had allowed them to build up such a dominant military presence. What General Islog8—and others like him—would probably never acknowledge was that a Sheen prophet who “ran off to some neutral planet” was responsible for all of it.

“I hope not,” Brandon responded to the captain. “For the moment, our task is to get the general’s ITF2 properly armed, and then repeat the process with two others he’s sending over. At that point my mission will be completed, so I’ll have to play it by ear. I don’t think the cargo of one additional Class-3 ship is going to make a difference in what happens here, so I’m inclined to have our ITF2 reassigned and dag out homeward.”

Brandon carefully observed the flight crew’s reaction to what he said. There was none. No surprise there. They would do what they were told without question. Leaving the battle was the safe thing to do, but hardly chivalrous. Many of his ship’s crew had known someone that was killed in the enemy attack five years ago. Brandon knew they would all be happy to do their part now in repelling such villainy. The wicked force on the screen before them was still around, in frightening numbers, and needed to be dealt with. And the Torians still had no idea who they even were.

*

Brigadier Gorbinshir stood at the rear of the flight deck with Colonel Halstov and watched his first squadron clear out the exit tunnel. After they were safely away, the ground crews ran about to bring the second squadron into position. It was a rigorous task to undertake a large scale launch when the bulk of your fleet was fragmentally stored throughout the interlacing caverns of a massive underground labyrinth. But they had practiced the drill and were ready. The tunnels which twisted their way back through the hollow rock were now filled with Ossurian interstellar fighter craft, patiently waiting in line and moving forward when they could. Everyone knew the Brigadier wanted the process completed in less than two hours. And this time, it wasn’t a drill.