by Andy Kasch
A few seconds passed, and then Brandon could see the second squadron diving in the same formation. The satellite fired one of its fearsome red missiles at Banor before the second squadron attacked. It was a repeat performance, with the drone’s defense laser shooting at where the single column had spread out from after it was too late.
In between each diving attack from the Torian fighters, the drone fired exactly one missile on Banor. The first two got by, but Jol2’s squadron connected and destroyed the last two. They were getting better.
“That’s great, Brandon,” Mip7 said. “We can contain it this way.”
“Excellent,” Olut6’s voice said. “See why I brought you?”
Brandon wasn’t as thrilled. “I’m glad Jol2’s boys are getting some of the missiles now, but that’s not what I had in mind. General, I think I can time its firing on Banor. Have those four squadrons repeat those same dive patterns again, with exactly the same timing. Tell all the other ITF1’s to stay clear. I’m going to spot-dag us in underneath it right as the last dive-bomber clears. As soon as you get a yellow light, fire the REEP cannon.”
“You got it. Stand by.”
“You realize this is a little dangerous,” Mip7 said.
Brandon chuckled. “A little? If that thing’s main weapon hits us we’ll slice right in half. Might not even slow it down.”
“And Tora will lose its high military commander,” Mip7 said. “Not to mention the space station governor.”
“I have family down there.”
“I know. Just hoping you’ll …do a good job.”
“We won’t be hanging around more than a second, Mip7—assuming the general gets the shot off.”
“Don’t worry about me, boys,” the general’s voice said. “Here come your attack runs again. Let’s do it.”
Brandon flew the ITF1 up to the top side of the dark, oblong drone. He positioned themselves perpendicular with it, facing down towards the planet surface, just outside of laser range. They watched the first squad come in again from above the front side. The satellite reacted the same way, getting off a badly-timed defensive laser after the fighters had cleared, taking the Torian fire like a boxer with a steel jaw. In between dive-runs, it got exactly one shot off at Banor, just as before. It looked to Brandon like those shots were fired out of spite, to show it was still undamaged.
Jol2’s boys managed to get two out of the three missiles fired between the first three dive runs. They were timing it now, as Brandon was attempting to do. You had to anticipate it. This was like tennis, that old Earth sport. If you ever tried to return a serve from a pro, you knew you had to start your swing before you actually saw the ball coming—otherwise, you’d be pitifully slow and never have a chance at it putting it in bounds.
Brandon focused intently as the fourth dive-attack began, keeping his thumb on the manual dag control. Mip7 and Olut6 were silent. As the last two fighters of the fourth run approached, he hit the gas.
Instantly, they were down below the drone. Behind, the last fighter of the fourth group dropped its missiles and swerved to clear. It took a couple seconds for the ship to flash the yellow interior signal that they had come out of distortion space. Those were two of the longest seconds of Brandon’s life. Finally, it came.
“General, go!”
But Brandon didn’t have to tell him. The REEP gunner also had the distortion space alerts in the rear turret, and Olut6 timed the REEP blast accordingly. Good thing, because Brandon wasn’t staying put. He looked at the rear screen as he dagged back in, and the last thing he saw was a red flash coming from the front of the drone. That looked more or less perfect.
Brandon didn’t have a plan beyond getting away quickly. He ended up inside the atmosphere of Banor when he let go of the dag control and the yellow light came on again. It was a clear day, so the sky was mostly blue.
Except for the bright yellow explosion directly above them.
“That could be good news,” Mip7 said.
“Yeah. Let’s go see.” Brandon stayed with local propulsion and came back up into space. But they could already hear cheering and laughing on the radio chatter.
Jol2’s voice came on. “You boys will never believe who took the winning shot!”
Back in space, there was nothing above Banor but happy squadrons of fighters performing celebratory acrobatics.
“It worked,” Mip7 said. “You must have detonated their weapon as it was halfway out the shoot. That was brilliant. General, nice shot! You still with us?”
“Yes,” Olut6’s voice said. “Thank you. We still have a situation to deal with at the station. Take us back over—but slowly. I want to enjoy the show here.”
Brandon moved forward with local propulsion and enjoyed the show himself. Young Torian pilots showing off their flying skills doing twists, rolls, and dives. Brandon knew it would be a short-lived celebration, as most of them would no doubt be called into the fray at Cardinal-4. But Olut6 was allowing them this well-deserved victory dance.
As the space station drew near, Brandon could see something was changing. Defense pattern 109 didn’t appear to be quite the same pattern as when they left. It would be interesting to see what the enemy would do now that their attack satellite had been destroyed.
Brandon’s curiosity was soon satisfied. The ball formation of the enemy began breaking up. Hard as they were to see from this distance, Brandon could tell the enemy fighters were coming out from all sides of it in small groups and engaging the Torian fighters in dogfight-style battles again. Brandon decided to slow his ship to a stop and look for situations he could help in.
But it was hard to follow. The space between Amulen and Cardinal-4 became alive with individual dogfights and battles between groups of ships no bigger than three or four. Choosing a situation that needed help was near impossible, and it wouldn’t be there by the time Brandon arrived to help. Lasers were everywhere, diving ships making tight turns, explosions. Both sides were taking casualties.
“We have no advantage in this style of fighting,” Brandon said, mostly to himself. “Maybe even a disadvantage, since their ships are hard to see manually.”
Mip7 heard him and talked into the intercom.
“General, you should consider ordering a retreat, at least to this side of Cardinal-4. It’s chaos out there. We should reorganize.”
“Agreed,” Olut6’s voice said.
Fighters from Banor pulled up alongside Brandon’s ship, including two of the other ITF1’s. Soon the space between Cardinal-4 and Banor was heavily fortified with Torian spacecraft in a defensive formation. Then the retreat from the Amulen side began. At first the enemy ships gave chase, but were met with so much return fire on the back side of Cardinal-4 they had to give it up.
Within minutes, the entire Torian military had amassed on the Banor side of Cardinal-4. The enemy fleet was positioned on the Amulen side. Two squadrons of conventional fighters were still positioned both above and below the station. There was considerable wreckage drifting in space on the Amulen side. Brandon didn’t want to know how many Torian pilots just died in the battle there.
The enemy was now ridiculously outmatched. Any further attacks would be a suicide mission.
Suddenly, a ring of fiery light appeared above the space station. It was much larger than the virtual dags the enemy fighters used. The Torian fighters positioned there saw it and scrambled, then circled around and fired at it.
The huge light-ring faded. Two enemy fighters were now on both ends of where it had been. They returned fired at the oncoming Torians. One was hit and destroyed. The other managed to escape and retreat to the enemy formation on the opposing side of the station.
But what they left behind was another drone attack satellite.
“General, we’ve got trouble!” Mip7 shouted into the intercom.
“I see it! How in Erob do they attach those things to their distortion field generators and tow them across the galaxy!”
“We can’t defend the stati
on from above!” Mip7 said. “General, we’re going to lose it!”
“I know that, extat! Brandon can you get between it again so I can blow it from the missile tube?”
“No,” Brandon said. “It’s too close to the station.”
“Extat!”
Torian fighters dove and fired upon the new drone.
Enemy fighters then began approaching, as if to help defend the drone. They couldn’t know exactly how the other had been destroyed, so probably now planned on defending the new one long enough for it to destroy the station. They came forward in a long line from their new defensive position.
Just then, a bright white light came up from the top of Cardinal-4. The drone had not yet gotten a shot off. It became immersed in the light. Seconds later, the entire space station lit up so bright Brandon and Mip7 had to put their hands up to shield their eyes.
“What’s happening?” Olut6’s voice said. “Is the station hit?”
Neither Brandon nor Mip7 replied. They only watched as the new bright light of the station reached out—as though it were an arm of light—through the drone satellite and into the line of oncoming enemy fighters. The drone exploded in a gigantic yellow fireball, and then the enemy fighters began exploding in sequence. While they were bathed in light, their shapes could finally be seen with the naked eye. They had an impressive design, and were sleek. But Brandon didn’t get a good look at them for more than a few seconds, as they blew up like a string of firecrackers in the arm of light.
The bulk of the enemy fleet saw what was happening and broke formation to retreat. The long streak of white light destroyed all oncoming enemy vessels. The rest turned and fled. In another moment, their dags all appeared and then the fleet was gone.
The white light retreated back into Cardinal-4, faded, and was gone. The station resumed its normal appearance.
Mip7 spoke into the intercom again. “General, can you communicate with the station bunker?”
There was a short pause.
“Yes,” he finally said. “They report all systems normal. What in Erob just happened?”
“I believe,” Brandon said, “we’ve witnessed the light weapon from Milura that the Latians and Dirgs were fighting over.”
“You mean the thing that extat Belle-ub said the half-breed races were responsible for?”
“Yes, General. That one.”
Chapter Eleven
It was still at least an hour before daybreak when Jumper was awakened by Kayla’s turning in the hammock. He decided to get up and check on Alan.
Alan was sleeping soundly. Jumper couldn’t tell if his skin had returned to normal color in the dark, but his breathing sounded okay. At least he was getting some bed rest.
When Jumper came out of Alan’s hut, he noticed the light from Cardinal-4 shining brightly in the southern sky. Uncle Brandon was still up there for some reason. Jumper wished he would return. Brandon would probably know how to help Alan more than these red Sheen did.
The space station suddenly surged with an intensified brightness. Jumper figured it for his imagination. He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
It wasn’t his imagination. Cardinal-4 had exploded in bright white light. The huge flash then shot out a flare of light that reached partway across the sky. Jumper felt sick to his stomach. Had Cardinal-4 just blown up? Please, please don’t still be there Uncle Brandon.
The flare retracted back into the great ball of light, and then the station resumed its normal luminance. Cardinal-4 was apparently still there. But something had happened to it. Jumper took off running through the village.
Not many others were milling about at this hour. Jumper made his way through the shacks and fire pits quickly. He saw a few red Sheen cooking and preparing the morning food carts, and some of those aliens with the strange blinking helmets standing around talking. They all turned their heads when Jumper sped by.
Belle-ub was standing in front of the parked shuttles at the edge of the village, by himself, looking at the sky. He called to Jumper as he passed, but Jumper ignored him and continued to Brandon’s shuttle. He opened the cockpit door from the copilot’s side and climbed inside.
There was his lightpad, right where he left it in the console between the front seats. He activated it from the side-button. The empty space inside the frame lit up with the touch-sensitive light field and then the video screen came on.
The news headlines were all about Banor coming under attack from an alien satellite of some kind. Military and civilian targets were being hit by a powerful weapon. Casualties and damage on the ground were piling up rapidly. None of the reported damage included any of the Earth colonies yet, and there was nothing about the light explosion at Cardinal-4.
Jumper scanned his inbox. There was a message from his dad, but that’s all. He would have to read that later. Jumper quickly composed a new message to Brandon, consisting of three words: you all right?
“A major battle was fought above our heads while you slept,” a voice outside the open cockpit door said. It was Belle-ub. He had followed Jumper to the shuttle.
Jumper looked down on him. “What do you know about it? Is the space station okay? Who attacked us?”
“I have my suspicions as to the identity of the attackers, but will not convey those without confirmation. The space station appears to be intact. I assume you witnessed the light weapon?”
“What light weapon? I saw the flash across the sky come out of Cardinal-4. Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Yes.”
“Who fired the light weapon?” Jumper asked.
“Someone on the side of Tora.”
“What’s the weapon?”
“A tremendous release of photon energy,” Belle-ub said. “It is a weapon of mass destruction, as you have just witnessed. Entire fleets can be destroyed in seconds.”
“Where did it come from? Is it a secret Torian technology?”
“No.” Belle-ub looked thoughtful as he continued to gaze at the sky. “As to its origin, I have my suspicions. But I will not convey those without—”
“Confirmation,” Jumper said. “All right. Do you think Cardinal-4 has been damaged?”
“Minimally at worst. You’re concerned about Brandon. I feel that he and his friends are all unharmed.”
“Man, I hope you’re right.” Jumper came out of the cockpit, closed the shuttle door, and walked with Belle-ub back to the village while refreshing the headlines on his lightpad repeatedly. New stories were being published fast. Jumper talked out loud as he read.
“The Banorian news says an enemy satellite attacked Banor with a devastating weapon, and it took them a long time to destroy it. But they finally did.”
“Yes,” Belle-ub said. “And the light weapon that came from Cardinal-4 destroyed a significant portion of the attacking fleet, no doubt. I imagine the rest have fled, and our system is now safe again.”
Jumper looked at Belle-ub. “You mean as safe as it gets with nineteen different alien races here, some of whom are warring?”
“Safer than you make it sound.”
“Is that because of the weapon you possess?” Jumper asked. “I saw it in action yesterday.”
Belle-ub cocked his head. “Weapon? Erob, no. That is simply a peace-keeping device. It has done no harm to any, and has in fact prevented bloodshed. It is something which makes it possible to play host to nineteen different alien races, some of whom are warring.”
Jumper looked back at his lightpad. No return message from Brandon yet.
“So,” Jumper said, “you still plan on holding your tournament, even in the wake of war?”
“The tournament is necessary to prevent war.” Belle-ub pointed out to the valley. “All these races would soon be killing each other, not just the ones who are presently bickering. The games will alter their focus. We will do battle at the arena and a victor will emerge. They will then all return to their homes to concentrate on training for the next tournament—instead of plotting wars an
d rushing to destroy one another in space.”
Jumper snickered. “I expect the Banorian military may now have something to say about all this, after having suffered losses in a sudden alien attack. You might just get a visit from the High General today to tell you to cancel the tournament and send everyone home.”
“I see you are reasonably skilled in deductive reasoning, in addition to your physical conditioning. You should make a formidable opponent in the arena. Yes, you are correct. I expect a visit from the High General today with the intention of stopping the tournament. He does not hold any such power over us, fortunately. But his visit should be …interesting. Have you thought any more about entering?”
“No,” Jumper said. “And I’m not convinced you’ll be able to stave off the edicts of the Banorian military, especially when they’re fuming mad.”
“Then today should be an educational day for you, Jumper. Listen. I have come to like you. As you probably know, a new C3 alliance has been formed, which I am the top seat of government for at the moment. We’ve made progress in negotiations with the industry captains on C4. Very soon, a new intercontinental government will be in place on Amulen. We seek representatives from each region and race. It is my opinion that you would be the ideal candidate to speak for the Amulen Earthlings in the new council.”
Jumper thought for a second before responding.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “Uncle Brandon says the leaders which emerge from the kind of condition Amulen is in are usually oppressive. And I don’t like these work contracts I hear about in the agritents. If that’s any indication—”
“Then be a voice which speaks for the ideals you believe in. That’s what a representative in a council does. As far as the agritent work contracts go, this is something which takes time to alter. Food production needs must be met in the meantime. But, you already know one way you can attempt to do something about that immediately. An objective voice which sits idly by and does nothing but be heard is not usually instrumental in affecting any change in the subject it objects over. I am offering you a rare opportunity—and privilege—in inviting you to represent your colony in the new council. Please consider it carefully.”