Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude (5 page)

“You were in the process of poisoning the entire network!” Brandon screamed. “Had we not stopped you—”

“Comrades!” Belle-ub boomed. His voice thundered, reaching baritone depths Brandon didn’t know was possible for a Sheen. Brandon had no choice but to obey the vocal reverberation and finally turn to face him, along with everyone else in the council. Belle-ub’s two assistants stood as well, on the step below his upper platform. Belle-ub was now commanding the audience. He focused on Brandon.

“I highly regret this issue not being presented to me beforehand. It would have been much wiser. I cannot have upheaval in this council. We are too vital in the growing movement of galactic peace. Brandon, if you will be so kind as to retreat from Director Markin1’s personal space, we can attempt to reconcile your current conflict in an orderly manner, since it seems to be something we are now temporarily burdened with.”

Markin1 sat back down, a little too smugly for Brandon’s taste. Brandon hesitated, but eventually turned to retreat to the far side of the room. He spoke as he walked.

“There is but one reconciliation possible, Chairman. The contaminant infecting the compromised network is of his making. He claims to possess knowledge of the counteragent, which will cure the Earthlings he has poisoned. This has gone on long enough. I officially request before this council that he now divulge it. Either he agrees to this or he doesn’t. If he agrees, the matter is settled.” Brandon arrived at the rear of the room and stood with his back against the wall.

“I appreciate your cooperation and candor,” Belle-ub said. He turned to Markin1.

“Councilmember Markin1, is this quick solution viable, so that we may move on with our agenda?”

“No.”

“Assuming, of course, the laboratory in question is made accessible to you again?” Belle-ub added.

Markin1 shook his head and repeated himself. “No.”

“Then we have a real problem,” Brandon said. “As this Amulite created the poison and claimed to have the antidote.”

“Is that correct?” Belle-ub asked Markin1.

“I was being held hostage at the time, and would have said anything to influence my release. But in the interest of expediency, let me be clear on my position. Even if I had the knowledge of such a formula, under the current circumstances I doubt I would agree to cooperate with this Earthling even should I find myself helpless on my back with a dagger at my throat.”

A long silence ensued, during which Belle-ub appeared to be deliberating. Brandon knew that wasn’t good. If he didn’t instantly and naturally gravitate to Brandon’s cause, he could now only be thinking diplomatically. And that wasn’t going to rescue the last eighteen Earthlings. Brandon needed to derail him.

“Belle-ub, your councilmember has not denied being responsible for the malicious poisoning—nor do I suspect he will attempt to deny it, knowing what witnesses we can produce. The atrocity of that crime alone is sufficient for his removal as the C2 representative, is it not?”

Belle-ub’s eyes narrowed. He focused on Markin1, who fidgeted uncomfortably. That was good. Brandon was tempted to add something, but knew he had scored a point. So the best thing to do was wait for the reaction first. Finally, Markin1 spoke to defend himself.

“What he refers to as ‘poison’ is, in reality, the complete opposite: a preservation agent. In my former profession I obeyed policies rather than help create them. We were given a project, which I dutifully followed to the best of my ability, even to the end of my assignment as I saw it falling apart around me from outside interference. The remaining research subjects are not lost, only preserved. In time, with proper attention and resource allocations, the type of which we are now reestablishing in many areas of the Science Complex, they can probably be safely resuscitated as well—assuming the research subjects come back under the care of trained
scientists
.”

“Research subjects,” Brandon said. “You see how he refers to us, and what stature we hold in his eyes.”

Belle-ub held up his hand. Brandon thought he looked like some medieval king who had heard enough and was about to pass judgment.

“I am sympathetic with the plight of your fellow Earthlings, Brandon, and have only ever welcomed and accommodated them in all my encounters. If I could help you, I would. But this matter is out of my control. The councilmember you are in conflict with denies he possesses the ability to comply with your request, and professes a deeply-ingrained resistance to any kind of cooperation with you.”

“You’re okay with a murderer continuing to serve in your council?”

Belle-ub’s hand went up again. “I tend to agree with your adversary that such accusations are an exaggeration, though I understand the source of your emotions. Councilmember Markin1 is a representative in good standing, and is well-supported by a solid due process in his region for his appointment to this position. I cannot become involved in minor local squabbles, or the integrity of just representation may be compromised.”

Brandon knew he had lost. He looked around the room with a long exhale before taking a final useless stab.

“He blatantly poisoned 24 Earthlings, and would have poisoned them all had we not stopped him. There is now a significant population of Earthlings intermingled in Torian culture, which makes this more than a minor local squabble.”

“Brandon,” Belle-ub said in a lower voice. “This Torian was abducted and kept asleep in the very same network for 25 years, at your hands. I would be in a much stronger position to come to your aide had you not already performed your own brand of rogue justice. As it stands, Continent-2 is undergoing a highly-desirable rebuilding phase, which Markin1 is an instrumental part of. I’m sorry, but that trumps your issue at the present time. We’re currently concerned with a much wider view of Torian society. I thank you for coming here today. If you truly become interested in placing another Earthling in the council, they will always be welcome. But I assume today is not that day.”

Brandon shook his head. “Unfortunately, this issue has farther-reaching effects than you realize. I regret having to put you in the middle of it, Belle-ub. But by taking his side, you are alienating the Torian human population, and, more significantly, all who are sympathetic to our cause. Such a division Markin1 couldn’t be happier to see. Tulros.”

Brandon turned and walked out a defeated man. Just before exiting, however, he heard Markin1’s voice call after him.

“Give our regards to the High General.”

Brandon spun back around. He could now see Belle-ub glaring down at Markin1, obviously upset at his audacity. Brandon realized the best thing he could do at this point was vanish from their sight. So he did. There was at least one small victory at the end, thanks to Markin1’s unchecked ego. That was a weakness. It could well be his undoing.

*

“Extat Brandon, you know I want to help you. But what can I do? Put yourself in my position and honestly ask yourself that.”

“What about a team of commandos?”

The cigar fell out of Olut6’s mouth. Brandon couldn’t tell whether he was about to yell or laugh.

“To hang him upside down and poke him with sticks until he releases the formula,” Brandon added.

The High General didn’t laugh. He put his unlit cigar back in his mouth, and picked his lightpad up off his desk.

“I can lend you one or two guards on unofficial leave, as usual. You’ll have to put the rest of that team together yourself. How exactly you choose to persuade your old scientist rival is your business. But I would advise you not to make outright enemies with Belle-ub.” Olut6 tapped on his lightpad and the large screen behind his desk lit up with a galactic map.

“I remember when you didn’t give a pyrus about how Belle-ub felt,” Brandon said.

“Still don’t.” The galactic map on the wall began zooming through the Erobian Sphere until it reached the outer edge, where it stopped. “But I’ve come to appreciate the benefits of his over-ambition.”

Brandon cocked his head. “Such as?”

“Intelligence.” Olut6 swung in his chair as some of the stars on the large map-view turned red. “That crazy red Sheen has provided us with an invaluable source of intelligence. And because it’s well-known that we don’t get along, no one suspects him of feeding me information. I couldn’t have designed a more beautiful setup if I tried.”

“Is he feeding you information?”

“Of course not. We have to get it the old fashioned way, with plants and agents, like everyone else. But instead of having to go out across the galaxy snooping around in dangerous places where we aren’t wanted, we now have a constant supply of it coming to Amulen. I hate to admit it, but that annual tournament of his, and the new financial center drawing all this interstellar traffic—well, it’s a blessing I never could have foreseen.”

“What about this station?” Brandon asked. “It’s now getting an impressive flow of alien visitors as well.”

Olut6 nodded. “Yes, since Cardinal-5 officially opened the governor has certainly been busy with guests. Like this fellow he wants us to come up and meet for some extat reason. But that kind of diplomatic traffic is worthless to military intelligence. The tables are turned—they all come with the intention of sniffing
us
out.”

Olut6 tapped on his lightpad again and the map on the wall adjusted views one last time, zooming closer on the inhabited star systems at the far edge of the sphere.

“No,” Olut6 continued, “you don’t gather intelligence playing mind games with diplomats. You get it from the sloppy, the drunk, the greedy; the very dregs of society sometimes. You get it when they’re off their guard, not thinking about politics or war. That’s part of the reason we’re the dominant force in the sphere now, and in the enviable position of no longer having to wait for our enemies to come here in order to engage them.”

“Have we many enemies left?” Brandon asked. “With the successful Latia campaign, the surrendering of their fleet without a fight, and the rumors of the light weapon—it all seems to have put the fear of Erob in everyone when it comes to us. And they all know we’ve tripled the size of our military in the last five years.”

“One enemy is all it takes.” The lightheartedness of Olut6’s voice left. “They’re still out there, and we still don’t know who they are. But we’re picking up clues here and there. Tora is anything but safe.”

“I guess that attitude is why you’re still the High General.” Brandon looked closer at the map on the wall. “And now I perceive you’re going to give me some reasons why you expect the unknown dark-ship enemy to be lurking along the outer rim of the sphere somewhere.”

“And your exceptional perception is why you’re still my top unofficial advisor. You see the systems marked in red?”

“Yes.”

“They’ve all stopped coming to the annual polwar tournament.”

“You find that suspicious?”

“Yes. Do you?”

Brandon thought for a moment. “Yes. That tournament is the marquee event in the sphere. The game is too addicting to quit. The tournament is structured attractively and the stadium sells out months in advance. I’m surprised any invited races would decline after witnessing even one contest there. How many other worlds have also stopped attending, besides these you have highlighted along the outer edge?”

“None. Like you said, it’s what they live for now. These are the only ones who’ve discontinued with it.”

Brandon nodded. “And they’re all located in remote areas along this fringe. That does seem odd. How many are there? Not counting Latia, of course.”

“Not counting Azaar or Latia, four. Azaar is also an interesting situation. They’ve never attended, despite having been invited every year and assured of forgiveness from that attack by their rebels thirty years ago. Last year I even sent my own personal recorded video along with Belle-ub’s messenger, officially welcoming them.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To see if I could further confirm my suspicions.”

“And their failure to show did that?”

“In an undeniable way,” Olut6 said. “The Dirgs are the only race along this outer edge that continues to visit us.”

“Well, the Dirgs are now a close friend and military ally of Tora.”

“Correct.” Olut6 pointed his cigar at the screen. “Which is exactly why I suspect they’ll be the next target of the dark enemy.”

Brandon cocked his head at that statement. Olut6 turned from the screen enough to notice it.

“Look, Brandon. I’ve been sending reconnaissance missions to various spots in this region for the past year—sometimes a squadron of ITF1’s, sometimes fully-armed transport fleets—to make appearances, sense reactions, and generally scout things out. Conditions are not what I consider normal for advanced races anywhere except Dirg.”

“How so, General?”

“Too quiet. These worlds on the screen in red, the ones that stopped coming to the tournament. I can send a dozen transport ships escorted by three squadrons of ITF1’s in a slow approach right up into orbit and get no reaction. No fighters scramble, no one comes out to greet us or see what we want. The only one of these worlds that continues to assume a defensive posture upon approach is Azaar.”

“The infection,” Brandon muttered.

Olut6 turned to fully face Brandon. “I find it unlikely game addiction is responsible for all this.”

“I don’t, General.”

“I know how you feel about it. But the fact is these worlds have all had the game for decades, yet still remained at least somewhat active in their space programs, including participation in the first tournaments on Amulen.”

“It can’t be anything but,” Brandon said. “I can sense it. I know it. As long as this game continues, the danger to the galaxy remains. The rebuilding of Amulen rests on a fragile foundation. And the infection remains at Banor’s doorstep.”

“Brandon, where did polwar originate from?”

Brandon looked back at the screen. “We’ve always assumed Azaar.”

“Is that what you believe? What you sense?”

Brandon eyes went out of focus. “No. It comes from an evil force somewhere.”

“Now that, you may be surprised to learn, I fully agree with.” Olut6 stood up. “Let’s go. The governor and his guest are expecting us.”