by Andy Kasch
The night sky was beginning to show signs of turning to early morning gray light. Jumper wanted to try and get a little more sleep. Belle-ub must have had the same idea, as he left Jumper to enter a hut.
“Belle-ub,” Jumper said. Belle-ub stopped in the doorway and turned around.
“I’ll do it. Play, I mean, at least. If you manage to keep the tournament from being cancelled, I’ll play as the Earthling champion.”
Belle-ub smiled and nodded before vanishing into the interior of the hut.
*
“Wait here please,” Mip7 said. “I’ll arrange things.” He left Brandon and Olut6 alone in the upper lounge.
“It’s not like Mip7 to keep secrets from us,” Brandon said. He turned on his lightpad. They had stopped at the REEP bunker on their way up, where Olut6 was briefed on the current military situation and Brandon retrieved his lightpad. All was quiet at the moment. Brandon was relieved to learn that none of the Earth colonies had been fired upon by the alien attack satellite. Olut6 issued orders and then came up the lift with Mip7 and Brandon, albeit begrudgingly.
“No, and it’s not good for a politician’s career to keep military secrets from the military,” Olut6 replied.
Brandon laughed. “You know he’s no politician. He was given this position as a courtesy. No one else wanted it. He’s hardly more than a steward, and a construction project foreman.”
“He may find himself less than that if I don’t get satisfactory answers.”
“How satisfactory is this answer?” Brandon said. “The enemy is defeated and Cardinal-4 is still here. Hmm. I have a lot of messages. I better let everyone know I’m okay.”
“Extat Brandon, I’m the Torian High General. Yes, I’m positively giddy over winning the battle, saving the space station, and putting an end to the destruction on Banor. But I’m also perfectly irate over the lack of information I have; important military intelligence that everyone in Tora seems to possess except for its military commander. I have no idea who attacked us or why, but somebody in Tora sure as Erob knows, I’ll tell you that. The enemy was defeated by an unknown weapon fired from this station we’re sitting in, which I command—and I have zero knowledge of it. Now the governor tells me he has some secret visitor who might be able to explain it. Then there are all those extat alien races in orbit over Amulen—none of whom came to our aide—and I don’t even know who or how many they are. You can’t properly handle defense matters when you’re lacking basic intelligence like this. I’ve got dead pilots, civilian casualties, destroyed spacecraft, and who knows how much property damage to have to go survey on Banor. Worst of all, I’m dead tired.”
“Yeah, me too,” Brandon said. He looked up from his lightpad to the bar. “Too bad the bar isn’t open. I could really go for an argim right now.”
“You must be joking.” Olut6 walked back behind the bar, found two mugs, and filled them. Brandon smiled and sat down on one side of a comfortable booth to reply to his messages. Olut6 came back with their drinks and sat opposite of him.
“There’s another security issue I have to get to the bottom of, too,” Olut6 said.
“Whatever it is, I’ll bet it’s on Amulen.” Brandon took a long, refreshing drink of argim.
“Of course it is. Some other unknown weapon or device that’s been reported coming from that extat Belle-ub’s camp. Knocks all weapons systems out and sends spacecraft navigation systems screwy. Apparently, it stopped the Latians dead in their tracks when they tried to attack the Dirgs in the atmosphere over C3. Too bad about that.”
“Well that’s interesting,” Brandon said. “I suppose you’ll have try and pry that information out of Belle-ub. He figures to be busy the next few days, though.”
“Not that busy after I get through with him.” Olut6 paused, chugged down his glass of argim, and then continued. “If he thinks he gets to hold his extat tournament now, after all this, he’s holding on to some serious delusions.”
“How are you going to stop him?” Brandon asked. “He doesn’t recognize your authority. What are you going to do, invade his camp with ground troops and risk igniting further interstellar hostilities?”
“I can’t have Amulen seceding from the Torian union and instituting policies that put Banor and Cardinal-4 in danger. Maybe I’ll knock down that new arena of his you told me about, so they’ll have no place to play.”
“I don’t think you’ve thought this through,” Brandon said. “Besides, if he can jam up weapons systems and keep them from firing, you’d have to do it from the ground. Now we’re talking civil war, in addition to provoking who knows how many other alien races against Banor.”
“That tournament he intends on holding is a threat to everyone. I plan on stopping it, one way or another.”
“So you’re going down there to talk to him?”
“Yes. And I’m planning a monologue, not a dialogue. This I have to do while postponing my response to a summons from the Banorian Chancellor. He’s not going to be happy about me making him wait.” Olut6 stretched out and lay down on his side of the booth. “I just need to …close my eyes here a minute.”
“Good,” Brandon said. “You can give me a ride. I need to pick up the kids and get back to RL-71.”
Olut6 didn’t answer. He looked somewhat comfortable. Brandon finished his argim, turned off his lightpad, and stretched out on his side of the booth in like manner. Resting his eyes for a minute sounded like a good idea.
They both woke up five hours later. Brandon was groggy and Olut6 was angry.
“Why didn’t the governor wake us?” Olut6 said.
Brandon pointed to the booth next to them in the lounge. “That’s why.”
Mip7 was asleep in that booth, but stirring from the noise of Brandon and Olut6 talking. They woke him up. Mip7 got them all a cup of coffee from the bar.
“All right, where is this special guest of yours?” Olut6 said. “I have things to do today.”
“Deck 70.” Mip7 pointed to the ceiling. “In the adjoining conference rooms, waiting for us.”
“He must have the patience of a Sheen,” Brandon said.
Mip7 smiled. “Yes, he does, in fact.”
Brandon cocked his head.
They refilled their coffees and Mip7 poured an extra one to take with them. They rode the lift to Deck70, made their way to the adjoining conference rooms, and entered into one side of them.
There was no one else in that room, but a bright light was shining through the partially open door to the adjoining room.
“Sit here,” Mip7 said. He went to the opposite side of the table and sat as well, putting the extra cup of coffee on the table in front of the empty seat next to him.
Brandon and Olut6 tried to look through the open slot of doorway. The light was much too bright and hurt Brandon’s eyes. He had to look away. Then he heard the door close and looked back. A figure was now standing in front of the closed door, shining brightly—but nowhere near as bright as the light that had been coming through the doorway a moment ago. The figure was normal-looking, and brought a certain undefined comfort to Brandon. Its light faded some and Brandon could see that whoever it was wore a cloak. His light dimmed further. It was a Sheen.
It was …Arkan9.
Brandon jumped up and ran over to him. Arkan9 was smiling warmly and extended his hand. Brandon grasped his arm with both hands and shook it vigorously. Arkan9 appeared to be about five years older than the last time Brandon saw him, 25 years ago.
“It’s you!” Brandon said. “I can’t believe it! I wondered if I would ever see you again.”
“It was worth the trip just to see you, and feel the loving energy from your soul, Brandon.”
“When did you arrive? And why didn’t you tell me you were here?”
“I’m telling you now. It’s so good to see you. I would not have missed it.”
Brandon turned to Mip7 but didn’t let go of Arkan9’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”
Mip7 shr
ugged. He was smiling from watching the reunion. “Business first,” he said.
“I requested of the governor that our presence not be revealed to anyone until the proper time,” Arkan9 said. “Shall we sit?”
Brandon let go of his arm. He was a little hurt by that revelation. Arkan9 sat next to Mip7, took a sip of coffee, and thanked him for it. Brandon slowly retook his seat.
“We?” Olut6 said. He looked back to the closed door.
“Yes General,” Arkan9 replied. “I am here with a …friend.”
“Is he still in the other room?”
“Yes, General. But—”
“Well, don’t leave him in there. That’s rude.” Olut6 stood and walked to the door.
“General,” Mip7 said.
But Olut6 opened the door. A bright light surged forth from it, filling the room and blinding everyone. Before Brandon went blind, he thought he saw the outline of a humanoid, a sort of stick figure in the middle of the light. But it might have been his imagination.
Olut6 closed the door again and stood in place. Several minutes went by while everyone recovered from blindness, and then several more minutes before anyone in the room felt normal enough to talk again. When they did, Olut6 spoke first.
“Who’s your companion?”
“A new friend of the Milurians. From a race of beings not known in the Erobian Sphere. To clarify, General—they live in the sphere, but are not known in it.”
“His light is …unapproachable,” Olut6 said.
“Well stated, General.”
“How is it that you can approach it?”
“Those with Erob blood have a natural affiliation with bright light. It is not so unapproachable to us, nor would natives find it quite so unapproachable if they sought a deeper connection with Erob law."
“Your friend’s affiliation with bright light—he is responsible for the light weapon which destroyed the attacking ships?”
“Correct, General.”
“And the Dirg fleet that attacked the Latians above Milura?”
“Yes. We were on board the salvage vessel when that attack began.”
Arkan9 appeared normal again and Brandon sensed that everyone’s eyes had finally readjusted. Hopefully, that door would stay closed for the rest of the meeting.
“Can you explain the technology?” Olut6 asked. “How does it utilize the space station—and the old Azaarian warship hull—as a conduit, without damaging the structures?”
Arkan9 thought for a few seconds before responding.
“I’m not certain technology is the proper way to categorize the energy you ask about. It is a reactive energy, applied with both justice and mercy.”
Olut6 frowned. “Look, Sheen—”
“Why do you call me that?” Arkan9 said. “Can you not address a visitor with proper respect? Do you still practice racial bigotry in your heart, after all this time?”
Silence in the room.
“I’m sorry,” Olut6 finally said. “I ask your forgiveness, and that you would consider the fact I’m under a lot of stress at the moment.”
“Certainly,” Arkan9 said. “Your apology is graciously accepted. Let neither of us think on it again. Now, to answer the next ten questions you are about to drill me with. It is simply not possible for the energy source you refer to as a light weapon to be explained or shared. Further, it is not something that can be harnessed and employed as a weapon of war. You may as well forsake all such notions. We are leaving shortly, and you will need to attend to your own defenses.”
“Leaving?” Brandon said. “You just arrived! Come spend some time with me on Banor first.”
“We’ve been here several days now. Our business is complete. And the time for leisure is over, I’m afraid, for all of us.”
Olut6 shook his head.
“Something wrong, General?” Arkan9 asked.
“I know how this goes with you people—no disrespect intended. You show up, do a few fancy tricks, give us some deep-sounding philosophical advice, and then leave. And I fear I still won’t have any answers.”
“You have more answers now than an hour ago, General. Several hours from now, you will have even more. But answers only partially solve problems. What you do with them, how you apply them in your important decisions—that is how solutions are derived. You are a wise leader who chooses his friends well. I have much faith in your ability to save Tora.”
“What’s left of it, you mean,” Olut6 said.
“No. All of it. The struggle is far from over. The fate of Tora lies in the balance. Half of Tora can neither be saved nor lost. All of Tora will triumph or fall.”
“Fall to what?”
“The infection, of course.”
“You mean the game.”
“The game is only a manifestation of the infection, General. You have seen how some members of your population are able to resist the allure of the game. But everyone is vulnerable to the infection represented by it. And now you also see how widespread the infection has become. Do not think Tora is alone in this struggle. All races in the Erobian Sphere are affected, perhaps the entire galaxy.”
“Is Milura infected?” Brandon asked. Olut6 and Mip7 both shot him strange looks.
Arkan9 glanced at the closed door to the adjoining room and said, “No. We have a natural defense. It’s why Erob blood is drawn there.”
“May we have the geographical location of your friend’s home world?” Olut6 asked.
“No, General. It wouldn’t do you any good, and could possibly cause you to misdirect your focus.”
“Arkan9,” Brandon said, “why did you come?”
Arkan9 looked at Mip7 and smiled. “I came with a warning, because my heart remains in Tora, even if my soul now makes its home at Milura. Imagine my delight at being received by a new space station governor who turned out to be my old, dear friend.”
“A warning?” Brandon said. “About alien attacks?”
“I suppose that is partially accurate.”
“Do you know who they were?” Olut6 asked.
“Yes and no, General. They are a new enemy in the present age. A formidable one, I feel. But the force which drives them is not new. It is almost as old as the cosmos. Worry not over their technology, for technology can easily be matched—especially when inspired by defense needs. Think back to ancient times and the Torian wars of old as unavoidable schooling—just as every underdeveloped world must experience. The dark forces are always of the same motive: To take freedom from others, and see their own will imposed in its place. Seeking power has always been the disease that slaughters multitudes. It is a great wonder, to those of us who find bright light approachable, how intelligent beings could acquire an obsession to see the will others come under the dominion of their own. But dark forces are not compatible with light, so we do not understand their motives. We only understand that their motives exist, and are threatening.”
“This isn’t helping,” Olut6 said.
“It would help if you would listen with your heart and not only your ears. I feel the division of Tora has reached a critical point. Amulen has collapsed. Banor has not. The force which took Amulen will not be so easily satisfied. Even now, I feel a temporary resurgence of Amulen being formed. It has sunk as far as the darkness is willing to take it by itself, and thus is ripe for regrouping. But what form will it take? You must be careful what you allow to develop there.”
“It is a Sheen who is organizing a new federation there,” Olut6 said.
Arkan9 cocked his head. “Sheen do not seek positions of power. We are content with spiritual pursuits, and influencing society in a morally-strengthening way.”
“This one’s different,” Brandon said. “Started a new Sheen order, it seems. Proclaims to be pursuing galactic peace.”
“An admirable objective,” Arkan9 said. “But peace is a popular selling point that evil dictators use to seduce nations and gain power. How does this new order set themselves apart?”
Brandon th
ought for a second. “Well, they’re politically active, and involved in the production and distribution of both agriculture and basic industry. Oh—and they wear red cloaks.”
“What is your feeling towards them?” Arkan9 asked.
“Mixed. I find I don’t naturally trust them. But their leader talks a good game, and comes across as inviting and transparent, rather than reclusive and secretive.”
Arkan9 nodded. “You noticed the aliens attacked both Banor and Cardinal-4, but not Amulen?”
“Yes,” Brandon responded. “But let’s face it—Amulen offers no worthwhile targets. They have nothing there of any perceivable threat or value, as you pointed out. Why would invaders waste ammunition on senseless slaughter and destruction?”
Olut6 chimed in. “There’s at least half a dozen significant-sized alien fleets in orbit there, which may have acted as a deterrent.”
“None of which came to your aide,” Arkan9 pointed out.
“No,” Olut6 growled.
“To be fair, though,” Brandon said, “we only appealed to one of them for help.”
Arkan9 shot Olut6 a quizzical look.
Olut6 simply grumbled. “Worthless. All of them. Especially that extat Belle-ub.”
“That’s the red Sheen leader?” Arkan9 asked.
“Yes.”
Arkan9 stood. “You have much to consider. I urge you all to think on my words. General, be careful in your alliances. Appearances can be deceiving. This advice works both ways. Stubbornness makes a poor partner. Wisdom appreciates reproach. Those who confess their weakness and strive to improve will find victory more often than those who harden their hearts and feed on self-righteousness.”
He then turned to Brandon. “Remember the old ways. The law, the study of the law, finding delight in the study of the law. What survives, when all else dies? The law will survive, and rocks cannot be rattled. When adversity presents itself, think back to the old ways and find renewal there. In this manner you can overcome evil which arrays itself in liberality.”