Torian Reclamation 3: Test of Fortitude

by Andy Kasch

  “I’m detecting weapons systems locking on us!” Borsk7 shouted. The fullest circle was now about 75% done.

  “Fire the dag ring again! No destination! But plot a point out of here!”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Brandon turned to Borsk7. “Stay ready. If they fire, roll away and tell the REEP gunner to blast them as we go.”

  “Good enough,” Borsk7 replied.

  “Dag lit again,” Lut5 said. “They’re turning again! No weapons fired! Erob, this is some kind of crazy game we’re playing.”

  “We’re confusing them,” Brandon said. “But that will probably be the last time. They don’t recognize us, and aren’t aware that any other race possesses a virtual dag. But our ship doesn’t look Azaarian. I imagine it will only take them another minute to decide we’re an enemy vessel.”

  Brandon saw that the mine targeting systems were stuck again.

  “Cool the dag. Next time we light it, we’ll be dagging out to your destination, Lut5.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  But when the dag cooled this time, a laser fired in front of their ship.

  “Shot across our bow, Commander.”

  “We’ve almost got it,” Brandon said. He intensely focused his energy on the screen above Bork7’s knee, attempting to help bring the task to completion by employing every last whit of his will. One of the mine marks was nearly finished. Only a sliver left to fill in the pie.

  “Another shot across our bow, closer! Too close, Commander!”

  “Local thrust! Go, Borsk7!”

  Brandon’s command hadn’t left his lips before the ship turned and dove from their position. The cockpit suddenly became hot.

  “Direct laser hit on our hull,” Borsk7 said.

  But then it stopped. A subdued sonic boom came through the ship’s cabin. Brandon glanced at the rear view screen. Several enemy ships exploded.

  “The REEP gunner got them, Commander. What now?”

  Brandon looked at the mine targeting screen. The fullest circle was 97% complete but blinking yellow. That meant it lost its connection. One of the original three was still connected, but it was only 50% full. Extat!

  “Fly and fight!” Brandon said. “Stay local! Make your way toward Dirg—I’ll try to cross-reference the data on another vessel.”

  “You got it. Staying local, Commander.”

  The ship dove again sharply. Brandon fell forward. As he did, he noticed an enemy laser firing just above the cockpit window. The ship then rolled. Brandon wrapped his arms around Borsk7’s legs to hold himself.

  The two pilots were now firing weapons and reporting their hits.

  “There’s one. Got one. There’s another. Good shot!”

  Brandon’s face was still in front of the mine targeting screen. He straightened himself out so he could get at the controls, keeping one arm around Borsk7’s left leg. He only played with the cross-reference feature once in the simulator and hoped he could remember it. They were now out of range of the last locked enemy vessel. That circle blinked out at two-thirds full, but the system was showing a plethora of available new marks. Brandon canceled the two least complete processes and chose three new nearby enemy fighters to analyze.

  The process began again and three new circles started filling. But Brandon didn’t plan on trying to wait them out this time. There was a way to cross-reference the data with the 97% complete one. How did that work? He fooled with the buttons, did the wrong thing twice, and then remembered the function.

  That’s when the ship lunged upward and threw him back. He had let go of Borsk7’s leg, dammit. The folded-down third pilot seat blocked his fall and hurt his back. No time for pain now. He pulled himself up again, but was knocked right back down when the ship shook from another REEP blast.

  The cockpit got hot again and the ship rolled. Brandon managed to grab ahold of a small bar under Borsk7’s seat and pull himself forward. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see lasers firing on both sides of the ship. These pilots were scoring multiple hits in the midst of an enemy formation that had zero expectation of them being there. It was an effective fighting tactic. Reckless, but effective. The problem was, Brandon needed them to not take out—or fly too far away from—all his new mine targets.

  Brandon slid back in front of the mine screen when the ship straightened out. He was able to grasp the controls again. Now he knew what to do. Only one of the new targets was left. One was enough. He quickly cancelled the other two, then opened the cross-referencing function on the 97% complete target. One more button to push. There it is. Match to new mark and convert.

  The ship turned hard again. Brandon mustered all his strength to stay in position. The remaining connected mark was 66% full on its own. No, wait. It was blinking. Now it was 97% full. The cross-reference kicked in. Just need a few more seconds…

  Borsk7 cursed and fired missiles. His curse yielded to a cheer as the ITF2 dove hard left. Brandon stayed on his leg and kept his eye on the screen. The final target vanished! Borsk7 must have taken it out with the missiles. Did the targeting process complete first?

  The circle over the final target grew big. It was all filled in with red. A mechanical voice then spoke in the cockpit.

  “Mine target acquired.”

  “Go, Lut5!” Brandon shouted.

  The rolling and rocking stopped and the stars squished and stretched. Brandon was able to stand. He steadied himself on Borsk7’s shoulder. The yellow lights came on. They were safely away, somewhere. Brandon looked down at the mine targeting screen.

  “We did it! Nice flying, boys. And great shooting. Where are we?”

  “Above the Azaarian fleet, Commander. I’ll whip us around.”

  Lut5 turned the ITF2 back to face Dirg. The standoff, it seemed, was over. Enemy fighters were now openly engaging with the Dirg defenses, at least four squadrons. More were moving in. Lasers and explosions could be seen.

  “I guess it’s starting,” Brandon said.

  Lut5 looked at him incredulously. “It would be more accurate to say we started it, Commander. The fight there is breaking out close to where our last position was.”

  “Take us back over to the Torian fleet,” Brandon said. “We’re in a bad place here. We may have started the fight on one front; let’s at least see if we can avoid starting it on the other.”

  *

  Jurgstot fought back a boisterous laugh. He knew he should still keep his voice low. In just a few more minutes, he could laugh unrestrained as he taunted his quarry before killing them. Finally, a decent hunt. There were so few resistors among these weak natives that he was beginning to think he would have no fun at all on this miserable dwarf planet.

  Jurgstot waved to the east team as they came into view on the crest. They returned the signal, and moved with obvious enthusiasm. The trap was working wonderfully and everyone knew it.

  The portable radio buzzed. Jurgstot put it to his ear. The north team reported their current position, opposite the clearing. Fresh footprints were on the ground, but no recent sightings of the resistors. The one they chased up the mountain, however, was seen joining the others briefly from below. So they were all together now. Absolutely perfect.

  The natives must be in the clearing at this point. It’s the best natural defensive ground in the area—and there is simply no other place they could have gone. Both sides of the mountain had been watched while Jurgstot’s three parties closed in upon them as a tightening snare. The spotters from each team now returned as they prepared to move in for the kill.

  Jurgstot realized he would be pulled from the hazardous duty roster after leading a successful field mission. That didn’t bother him. He’d find a way to get right back on it, as always. It was the pattern of his life. The leaders had come to expect it of him. “Hazardous duty” was the only duty he could stand. It had been that way since his school days. Early in childhood, Jurgstot discovered he was different than most. He was the one constantly questioning the teachers, wanting
to know what was really wrong with individual ambition and other such long-held Ossurian condemnations. Then he would find himself in the field outside the schoolyard removing poisonous insect nests. In later years, it would become venomous serpent duty. Several of Jurgstot’s rebellious schoolmates actually died serving their punishments alongside him as a teenager. Jurgstot was used to losing friends in the field, so the two who were found killed by the resistors today didn’t faze him. It only made the ensuing hunt more thrilling.

  The trap was Jurgstot’s brainchild. He learned a long time ago to outthink his opponents by tricking them into believing they were the ones having flashes of brilliance. But Jurgstot was always two steps ahead of them. The best way to defeat an intelligent being was to get them to think they were invoking their intelligence to outwit you. Just make sure the revelations they experience were planted by you.

  That’s what the cave at the back of the clearing was. The natives would end up there, right were Jurgstot wanted them. It was an insidiously conceived death trap, one of his best. All they had to do was laser the supporting tree trunks above the entrance and the boulders would fall and seal them in. Then they would insult and torment the pathetic resistors, and maybe even get to shoot at them through any holes in the rockslide.

  Jurgstot radioed the north team and instructed them to begin proceeding into the clearing from the west side. He signaled the east team, and then carefully led his own crew forward. These resistors were armed, and might be entrenched behind structure where the trail ends.

  Jurgstot had a member from each team climb over the rocks at strategic places. Should a native reveal his location by firing, at least one of his mercenaries would be in position to hit them back. You can’t defend from every direction at once.

  When his climbers all reached the high points, Jurgstot continued moving his ground forces. They crept along the trail, ducking behind structure and running from one cove to another. Jurgstot leveled his laser at every possible ambush point as they progressed. Members of his crew climbed up the smaller embankments and pointed their weapons down behind the crevices. They made their way forward in this manner, until they came out into the clearing.

  No one was in sight. That was odd. Jurgstot expected some kind of a fight upon his approach.

  The east team appeared at the trailhead on the opposite side and looked just as surprised. Up on the rocks, the climbers were all in full view. Jurgstot waved for them to come down.

  This was too easy. There was only one place the natives could now be—right where Jurgstot wanted them to end up. But he was disappointed there was no laser battle first. When his mercenaries were all gathered, he pointed to the ground.

  “See the fresh footprints,” he said. “They lead straight to the cave. They’re all in there. Probably just discovered it’s shallow and desperately hoping we’ll pass by. Let’s seal them in.”

  Someone in the rear of the group suddenly yelled and fell to the ground. His back was smoking. Then, two more shouted in pain. Everyone spun around.

  Two laser beams were firing at them from the rocks.

  “Return fire!” Jurgstot shouted.

  Six Ossurian lasers instantly shot back, but the attackers weren’t visible. Only their beams could be seen.

  “Aim for the lasers!”

  One of the two attacking lasers began firing in quick bursts. Three Ossurians yelled and dropped their weapons. Meanwhile, the other attacker connected a steady beam on an east team member until he fell with a burning hole in his chest.

  Two of Jurgstot’s mercenaries from the north team broke and ran back to the west trailhead—only to be met with two additional laser beams. One came from the trail and the other from behind a tall rock to the side. Both the retreating Ossurians ended up on the ground. They didn’t look like they would be getting back up.

  One of Jurgstot’s own crew then broke for the east trailhead. As he did, a shout came from behind the rock where the short bursts were coming from. It sounded like a command of some type, but the voice had a feminine quality to it. Immediately, a fearsome growl sounded from the east trail. The one who just ran out that way emitted the most terrifying shriek Jurgstot ever heard come from an Ossurian. It was quickly silenced.

  A laser struck Jurgstot on the thigh from the west trailhead. He ran forward so it ended up connecting on one of his other mercenaries instead. More shouts, more Ossurians falling and scrambling for weapons shot out of their hands.

  Jurgstot had been successfully ambushed. They were the ones trapped—and they were getting fried out here.

  “The cave!” Jurgstot shouted. “Everyone to the cave!”

  Those who could still run scrambled to the harborage in the side of the mountain. That which was previously designated a deadly pitfall for the enemy had become a delivering sanctuary. Not all who started for it made it.

  Once inside, they assumed defensive positions. Jurgstot counted his company. There were only five left with him. A few minutes ago they stood as a conquering party of eleven Ossurian warriors about to destroy their prey, even complaining about the ease of their sortie. What happened? And how?

  Lasers were still firing in the clearing, but not at the cave mouth. Not yet, anyway. They were mopping up outside, making sure those who were down didn’t rise again. A slight wind blowing from the north now directed wisps of smoke into the cave—wisps that carried the stench of burning flesh.

  Jurgstot repositioned himself and placed his head in a small opening on the far left. It was risky, but he wanted to see what he was up against. The pain in his leg objected to his movement. He lifted it from the ground to provide temporary relief.

  Something was moving behind the tallest rock on the left side of the clearing. Wait—something else was now moving behind the second tallest rock in the middle. Who could possibly be there? The outer sides of those rocks were sheer faces with long drop-offs below. Jurgstot hadn’t bothered to direct anyone to check those spots.

  Slowly, the movements gave way to rising figures. The attackers finally showed themselves. Jurgstot hesitated before firing. He wanted to see whoever it was that bested him first. None of the natives on this planet had ever given any indication of being capable of such wile.

  In another moment, he saw why. The figures rising above the rocks weren’t natives. They were small, but not as small as the Sulienites. What’s more, they weren’t even of the same species. One of them appeared to be particularly soft and weak.

  Before Jurgstot could react, both of the rising aliens fired lasers into the cave opening. The five other Ossurians inside scurried to the far sides. Jurgstot hunched down as the beams moved back and forth in the cave, but neither came all the way to the edges where they now crouched.

  The mismatched aliens rose above the rocks completely. Jurgstot now saw that they were wearing hover devices on their feet. To be defeated by the use of such simple technology was infuriating. Jurgstot raised his weapon and aimed at the one on the left. They were easy targets now.

  But a laser connected on his hand before he got the shot off. His hand felt like an explosion of fire. He dropped his weapon. Jurgstot bent down and picked it back up with his other hand. Before he could pop back up, a red beam shot into the cave right where his head had been a moment before.

  Jurgstot looked to the opposite side in desperation. Good, one of his ground crew was standing up at the far wall. He had his weapon outstretched in front of him, with his forearm outside the cave opening. That was going to be a well-aimed shot. Surely one of the alien attackers was about to go down.

  But just as he fired, a red blur moved at the cave opening where his arm was positioned. The Ossurian yelped and recoiled against the wall. His arm was gone, apparently torn off, now pumping blood from the empty socket at the shoulder. Jurgstot’s one-armed soldier slid to the ground.

  Trained animals. They’d been warned that some of the natives might have them. Jurgstot thought the idea was laughable at the time. Now it was only stupefyi
ng. One was lurking right outside the cave entrance.

  More laser fire came into the cave. These were short bursts widely dispersed, obvious cover fire for someone currently exposed out there. Jurgstot inched his head up as much as he dared. He could see two steady laser beams, but they weren’t aimed at the cave. They fired above it. They stayed on. A new odor was in the air: the smell of wood burning.

  Jurgstot suddenly realized his own trap door was being sprung. He quickly decided it would be better to die fighting in the open than entombed in a mountain. At least out there, he might be able to take one of them with him.

  “Out!” He shouted. “They’re bringing the rocks down on us! Go! Now!”

  Jurgstot and the four other still-mobile Ossurians stood and bolted for the exit. As they did, a great rumbling sound came from overhead. Jurgstot found himself directly behind one of the north team members. He pushed him forward as they ran—right into a falling boulder. Suddenly Jurgstot’s hand was against a hard rock instead of his fellow Ossurian’s back.

  Jurgstot looked down. He only saw the feet and ankles of the one who had been ahead of him, angled into the corner between the ground and the boulder.

  Jurgstot looked up. The boulder didn’t fully cover the mouth. There was enough room to climb out on top, and also over on the far right side. But before he could react, another rumbling sound erupted and a new slide poured into the remaining openings. Big rocks, little rocks, and dead wood rained upon them, along with a choking cloud of dust. Jurgstot and his two remaining companions were forced to retreat.

  The noise finally stopped. In a few minutes, the dust settled and they could breathe normally again. It was dark. A few glimmers of light shone through cracks in certain places.

  Kalsted, one of Jurgstot’s most trusted companions, was still with him. Kalsted now moved to the right side and felt his way around the rubble. He shoved at a certain spot and a hole of daylight appeared. He kept pushing around that area, enlarging the opening. Soon it was the size of his head.