Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation)

by Kasch, Andy

  Test of Magnitude

  The Torian Reclamation

  Andy Kasch

  © 2013 Andy Kasch

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, religious bodies, corporate or governmental entities, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without the express prior written consent of the author.

  Table of Contents

  New Year’s Eve 2012, Earth

  Twenty Years Later, Tora Star System

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three Months Later, Earth Colony Amulen

  Epilogue

  Continuance

  About the Author

  New Year’s Eve 2012, Earth

  Brandon hated it when she got like this. All it took was a little alcohol, and suddenly his wife was interested in every other man but him. Usually, he could keep her away from booze—but tonight was New Year’s Eve, and the hotel ballroom was set up to make sure no one ever had an empty glass. Sheri was refilling hers too often. Brandon knew he would have trouble with her tonight from the moment they came downstairs. He did manage to keep her up in the room until after nine, which was a pretty good coup.

  Once she was loose, however, Sheri quickly made up for lost time. She was highly skilled in giving him the slip at parties. Every time Brandon took his eyes off her, even for a moment, she became instantly lost in the crowd. By the time he found her again, all too often it was with her hand on the arm of some guy who seemed surprised when Brandon walked up to claim her. This was getting to be too much work. At least it would soon be midnight. Hopefully, the place would thin out soon thereafter and he could get her back to the room without a lot of resistance.

  Sheri was too young when Brandon married her. He knew that now, and had come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be your wife’s first love. Let them get that out of their system first. Otherwise, you end up looking like a fool when they get bored and start looking around at everything the world has to offer a hot, young party girl.

  “Honey,” Brandon said, “would you like to go outside and get a little air before midnight?”

  Sheri looked at him like he had just grown a third eye. “Go outside? What the hell for? The party’s in here.”

  “Well, it’s nice outside, and fresh air is good for us, especially when we’ve been drinking.” Brandon was being careful with his words, making sure he didn’t refer to her drinking, as he knew all too well how that would make her rebel.

  “Oh, you want to smoke your cigar, don’t you?” she said. “I’m sorry, Honey. You go ahead. That’s a good idea. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Before he could stop her, Sheri turned sideways and slid through several layers of people. It hurt, but Brandon was starting to get used to it. She was simply uncontrollable. He spotted her again halfway across the room sidling up to a man Brandon dragged her away from earlier. Brandon watched as Sheri grabbed ahold of his arm to whisper something in his ear. The two of them started laughing. Brandon was near his breaking point.

  Perhaps the best thing to do was go outside and smoke that cigar after all. He needed a break from the battle. There probably wasn’t much point in it any longer, anyway. Maybe he should just give up and see what sort of a mess she gets herself into. Of course, she would probably get his Corvette in the divorce. That factor alone may justify his continued attempts to keep a tight rein on her.

  Brandon pushed his way out of the ballroom into the hotel lobby. He stepped out the front door into the parking lot, and then meandered over to the park adjacent to the hotel. There were a lot of people coming and going, some of them in costume. He almost bumped into Elvis on the walkway leading to the park.

  As he lit his cigar, Brandon tried to think of a unique personalized license plate with the word whore in it that he could put on the Corvette after some liberal divorce court judge awarded her his car. It would probably be months before she even noticed it. Some of the names he came up with made him smile. The fresh air did feel good on his face, and his special Cuban Romeo and Julieta that he had been saving tasted wonderful.

  Two guys in extremely bizarre costumes passed by, coming from the direction of the hotel going into the park. They were both tall, thin, and covered from head to toe in bright leathery skin. As far as Brandon could tell, it looked like polished silver-colored alligator skin. The eye-holes were barely more than slits, and the bumps for their noses were strangely small. Maybe this was a new variation on those stretchy-bodysuit things you see some snowboarders wear on the ski slopes.

  There was something alluring about those bright leather costumes. They were real-looking, and, he had to admit, pretty cool. Brandon casually followed the two alligator men into the park, keeping his distance while puffing away and taking in the nighttime scenery.

  The cigar was a slow burner. If Brandon were to stay out here and finish it—which is what he felt like doing—he would miss midnight and Sheri would doubtlessly get into all kinds of trouble. This was so stupid, a man not being able to trust his own wife. He didn’t really want to go back in there. Brandon was enjoying himself now, for the first time all weekend.

  He decided to stroll through the park and keep at the cigar. Maybe he could get a better look at those alligator men, who had vanished behind a grove of trees as the walkway veered to the right. Brandon continued in that direction, staying on the well-lit path.

  As the walkway turned, the hotel fell out of view behind the trees. There was a pond on the left side, and a wide expanse of field with large patches of tall brush directly ahead. The path followed the shore of the pond. Brandon couldn’t see the alligator men anywhere. Maybe they were off in the bushes smoking dope. He stopped and surveyed the night view of the park, then turned to head back toward the hotel.

  Suddenly, he was grabbed from behind by two sets of arms. Before he could let out a yell, an abrasive hand was covering his mouth. Brandon struggled, but was lifted off the ground. Another hand was on his left ear, and what felt like a leather finger inserted itself into his ear canal. Brandon kicked and squirmed and let out muffled yells, but quickly became dizzy and started losing energy. In another moment, his body went limp.

  He was barely conscious now, and the two men who had grabbed ahold of him were dragging him through the trees like a ragdoll. The last thing he remembered seeing before passing out were tiny sparks flying from the cigar ember as his precious Romeo and Julieta rolled down the hill and into the pond.

  Midnight came with all the usual fanfare back at the hotel. They played the scene from New York City on the big screen, and everyone counted along as the ball dropped. When the air horns started blowing, Sheri grabbed the man she was with by the neck and engaged him in a long, passionate kiss.

  Then the fireworks went off. Ooh’s and ah’s filled the ballroom as the guests gazed out the plate glass window to
watch the colorful explosions over the park. Sheri noticed one particularly bright firework that kept rising, seemingly forever, without ever exploding. She sighed and rested her head on the man’s shoulder while tightly grasping his arm with both of hers.

  The man looked around nervously and said, “Um …where’s your husband?”

  Sheri didn’t move. She just kept looking up at the night sky.

  “Far away, I hope.”

  Twenty Years Later, Tora Star System

  Chapter One

  “The view is spectacular. We haven’t seen anything like it.”

  “Glad you are enjoying it, Ambassador.” In truth, however, Mip7 wasn’t glad about anything. He didn’t especially like the Azaarian ambassador, wasn’t thrilled about him being here, didn’t trust him, and he certainly wasn’t happy he liked the view. Everyone who ever came to the Cardinal-4 Space Station was always astounded by the view. They all reacted the same way, and it’s about all you ever heard visitors talk about. The residents who handled visitor relations were understandably less than enthusiastic about it.

  “No,” the ambassador continued, “there is nothing else like this in our region of the galaxy. But then, twin worlds sharing the same orbit are rare.”

  “We know of three other star systems like ours,” Mip7 said, “and one of them actually has three planets in the same orbit.”

  “You mean, with inhabitable worlds? Hydrosphere planets?”

  “Yes, Ambassador—although, only one of those systems currently has a native population of intelligent life. At one time, we had actually begun to colonize one of the others, but respiratory implants were needed because of the thin atmosphere. There is a short video presentation on shared orbit star systems in the amphitheater on Forward Visitor Deck 57. If you would like to see it, I can walk you there.”

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Very well then, come with me.”

  As they walked the corridors of the famous and fabulous Visitor Deck 60 alongside vivid works of art collected from dozens of distant worlds, the long-robed, thin-whiskered, white-haired Azaarian ambassador began rattling off questions—the kind that always made Mip7 nervous.

  “How are the defenses on this station coordinated?”

  “It’s all done by fighter craft. There are no weapons mounted on the station itself.” Mip7 knew that wasn’t exactly true.

  “How many fighter craft are kept in the station hangars?”

  “Fifty or Sixty. The bottom three decks are all military.”

  The ambassador nodded. It seemed to Mip7 that he might be doing mental calculations.

  “Of course, the main fleet can get here quickly from the ground bases in the case of an emergency,” Mip7 added.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” the ambassador said. “Are they evenly deployed, then, across both of your worlds?”

  “Essentially, yes.” Another lie. Mip7 knew all too well the main fleet was stationed almost entirely on Amulen. He also knew his instructions were to give the ambassador honest answers to anything he wanted to know. There had never been an interstellar war, and the Torian Military didn’t think an invasion was even plausible. The government was more concerned about being gracious hosts and showing off Cardinal-4 to any advanced race who initiated contact with them. Mip7 could get into real trouble as a consequence of being less than honest with the Azaarian ambassador, but he couldn’t help but follow his instincts. Still, he was careful not to give any false information he couldn’t claim ignorance on if questioned about it later.

  The two of them stepped into the lift and headed down to deck 57.

  “The size of this station is perhaps the most impressive construction feat we have come across,” the ambassador said. “We can even see it as an object on our scopes back home.”

  “Yes,” Mip7 said, “it is the only space station in this section of the galaxy that can be seen on long range scopes, as far as we know—unless, of course, the Erobs have something like it.”

  The ambassador’s expression turned into one of concern. They arrived on deck 57 and began walking down the hallway.

  “You have communication with Erob?” the ambassador asked.

  “No. We have the half-breeds among us, who teach the law in our universities. As I’m sure you do.”

  The ambassador shook his head. “No. We exiled our half-breeds to Milura several generations ago.”

  Mip7 was now more alarmed than ever. “You have no half-breeds? Who teaches Erob law on Azaar?”

  “It is only taught in anthropology classes presently. All our current laws have evolved from our own cultural developments and have superseded the old Erob law, which is no longer taken seriously on Azaar. There are some political movements within our younger generation that are attempting to inspire a new interest in it, and wanting to bring about a return of the exiles, but they are a minority. Their efforts are mostly regarded as the misdirected passions of idealistic youth.”

  Mip7 had no response. The very thought of an advanced race in the Erobian Sphere rebelling against Erob law, as ancient as that law may now be, was shocking.

  “Tell me,” the ambassador said, “have any recent prophets arisen among your half-breeds?”

  “No. Not for hundreds of years now, before we started work on this station. The last recorded prophecy was of a ‘destructive imbalance’ of some kind that would begin in space in the distant future.”

  The ambassador appeared to relax again. “I see. How many other operational space stations now orbit Tora?”

  “There are maybe a dozen small military stations here, but that’s all. Nothing else of any size, and no others with civilian residences. We put everything into this project, and the maintenance on it alone employs over seven percent of the Torian population.”

  “I can see why,” the ambassador said.

  They came to the amphitheater and went inside. The ambassador, being rather large, sat in a big, plush-red seat in front of the main screen. Mip7 queued up the proper video and left him there to go check on their meal arrangements.

  * * *

  Mip7 was tired. He just spent an exhausting ten hours entertaining a suspiciously inquisitive representative from a planet of lawless rebels, and he needed some down time. It was, in fact, required that he should now have a balancing rest period—but Governor Stugin2, the governor of Cardinal-4, had just summoned him. Mip7 was in no condition to see the governor. He had only even met him twice before. It must be something important, probably about the ambassador’s visit. Mip7 regretted ever volunteering for a foreign relations position.

  Hopefully, the governor just wanted a briefing and hadn’t somehow found out about the false information Mip7 had given the ambassador earlier today. Perhaps the newly-formed Azaarian relationship was more important to the government than Mip7 realized. Whatever the case, he decided he needed a drink first.

  Mip7 poured himself a tall tube of Redflower-20, the strongest libation allowed on the space station. It was also the strongest libation allowed by Erob law, but down on Torian soil that particular law was beginning to become somewhat obsolete, as stronger drinks were now purveyed in many lounges. You still couldn’t purchase anything stronger than Redflower-20 to take home, though.

  Mip7 stood in his small residential compartment and looked at his drink. He wondered if the Tora worlds would become like Azaar in the near future, completely forsaking long-established galactic law simply because of a lack of enforcement. The availability of stronger recreational drinks than Erob law provided for was perhaps evidence their culture had begun to move in the same direction.

  He consumed the contents of the tube in one swallow. A stinging bitterness exploded in his mouth, before yielding to the familiar smooth, euphoric semi-sweet aftertaste. That Redflower-20 was very special liquid indeed. He made an entry on his lightpad to request another bottle when the next supply order was pulsed.

  Feeling better, Mip7 left his compartment. The governor’s manor was on the 77th deck, w
hich was the uppermost inhabited deck and located at the base of the observation tower in the middle of the station. The floors above that were strictly for maintenance and moving traffic to and from the tower levels. Everything above the 63rd deck was government-access only, except for the public lifts to the upper spaceport and observation tower. Mip7’s compartment was on deck 64, which housed most of the locals assigned to low-level government posts. His transmitter implants allowed him free access to the lower government levels, but to get to deck 77, he had to pass through security clearance and wait in a lobby to be announced. After waiting there a short period, he began to wonder if the summons was a mistake.

  “Mip7, you are clear to pass,” the station guard said. “The governor is expecting you. Please use the center lift.”

  Mip7 was partly relieved, but still a little nervous. Not many Cardinal-4 residents had ever been in the center lift on the top decks. That was for the governor and his guests. It led directly to the governor’s manor.

  Mip7 walked back to the lift. The door opened and he stepped inside. The door closed behind him and the lift began moving, ever-so-gently. It was much wider than the standard lifts, and adorned with scarlet wall covering and exotic artwork. There were no hand controls or buttons. The governor’s lift operated purely on the information transmitted from your implants, or from special wristbands important guests were issued. If you were not supposed to be there, that lift wouldn’t take you anywhere.

  The door opened again on deck 77. The lighting was bright and there were large plants growing in the reception area, surrounded by a gem garden which included a pool and fountain. Expensive chairs of different types and sizes were positioned between the gem garden and the front desk, where a guard was stationed. Mip7 figured he would now have to wait in this upper lobby some more, but the guard stood up and immediately came around to greet him.