Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation)

by Kasch, Andy

  Then, another explosion was heard from outside the hangar, and the shuttle shook a little. Finally, the shuttle door opened and the passengers quickly got out. Two of them were carrying large black briefcases in each hand. They all followed the direction two Amulites inside the hangar were pointing towards, and entered a corridor.

  As Brandon exited the hangar deck, he heard a loud voice echo from behind him.

  “What is that extat shuttle doing in my hangar!”

  * * *

  The Redflower-20 in Mip7’s compartment was especially invigorating. Maybe it was due to Brandon’s nerves being rattled. He did, after all, just rescue the shuttle from crashing in the middle of a space battle. Mip7 seemed to appreciate his tube of it as well. They both lay back on the chairs in his compartment with their arms over their heads, staring at the soft white light in the ceiling for a few moments while enjoying the after-effects of their drink. Brandon had removed his Sheen cloak.

  Mip7 then got back on his lightpad. Brandon used the opportunity to slip into the hygiene room, where he stepped into the shower stall to run the blue light all over his face, arms, and clothes. It took longer than normal, but he managed to eventually get the yellow glowing paint off his face and hands. Back to being Robin Hood. At least he could see clearly again.

  Mip7 called to him from the front room.

  “I have to go meet the governor down on deck 24, in the high security wing.”

  “Oh. Okay. Should I just stay here and take a nap or something?”

  Mip7 hesitated while rereading something on his screen.

  “No, you better come with me. I think he wants to see you, too.” He looked up curiously when Brandon came out of the hygiene room. “Especially now that you are all groomed up.”

  An occasional explosion could be heard off in the distance as they took a lift down to deck 24. A security team stopped them at the entrance to the military wing there.

  “You are clear, Mip7,” one of the guards said, “but the governor is expecting a Sheen to be with you, not an alien visitor. He’ll have to wait out here.”

  “This alien is the one he wants to see,” Mip7 replied. “He was disguised as a Sheen earlier.”

  The guard then held a small black tube up to one of Brandon’s ears and watched his lightpad flash in response.

  “I guess you’re right. His data identifies him as a Sheen, anyway.” The guard tapped on his lightpad and held the device next to Brandon’s ear again, only this time some faint beeping noises came from it.

  “Go on through,” he said. “The governor is in the R-3 bunker with Commander Olut6. You are both clear now.”

  Mip7 talked as he led Brandon back. “This is the highest security area on the entire station,” he said. “I have never been in the bunker. We may have a chance to see that mounted weapon you were asking about.”

  The door at the end of the corridor slid open as they approached. They entered a large, dimly-lit room. It was a busy place. Torian natives were walking back and forth quickly, and many were sitting at stations in front of computer screens. This certainly looked like a military central command post to Brandon. A huge video screen on the far wall showed the space battle taking place outside. The three large orange objects were still together, but many fighters had now intercepted them. Most were holding a position between them and the station, but a few darted over and under them, occasionally drawing laser fire, and even less occasionally returning it. Things seemed to have settled to a standstill.

  “Mip7!” a voice yelled from the side of the room.

  Brandon and Mip7 looked over and up to the top of a platform where two Amulites were standing. Both wore dark-red colored shoulder pads. One was waving at them.

  “Come along,” Mip7 said. Brandon followed him up the seven or eight steps to the top of the platform. That area was even darker and had many small video screens on the wall of a circular enclosure. Another half-dozen work stations were occupied under those screens.

  “Mip7, this is Commander Olut6,” One of the shoulder-padded Amulites said.

  Mip7 bowed and said, “Tulros. This is Brandon Foss, an Earthling, one of the subjects from my current project. Brandon, this is Governor Stugin2 of Cardinal-4, and the military commander here.”

  Brandon bowed to each of them and then said, “Tulros.”

  “Dispense with the formalities,” Olut6 said. “Where’s the Sheen who parked that shuttle in my hangar?”

  Mip7 shook his head. “No sir, it wasn’t a Sheen—it was Brandon here, wearing a crude disguise.”

  Everyone looked at Brandon, who stood still and remained silent.

  Olut6 raised his hands in the air. “A visiting alien was flying the public shuttle? That’s even crazier than a Sheen flying the shuttle. What in Erob is going on here?”

  “Commander,” the governor said, “I saw what happened. The shuttle was knocked into a spin by a nearby explosion. The Sheen—that is, this alien I guess—grabbed the controls and saved the shuttle from a collision on the station.”

  “It was a sonic boom,” Mip7 said. “The rest of us were knocked delusional.”

  Olut6 looked Brandon up and down. “How does he happen to know how to fly—and land—a Torian spacecraft? Is he a pilot on his home world?”

  “He is not a visitor,” Mip7 said. “He is a science research subject, rescued from the C2 Science Complex, and has been imprisoned in a cryonic preservation tank for more than two decades. We managed to resuscitate him and one other subject almost two weeks ago, before our project was politically sabotaged. He has never flown before, but is very good on the simulators.”

  “Extat!” Olut6 said. “Just what I need.”

  He then looked closer at Brandon and said, “Earthling, do you think you can take that shuttle to the upper spaceport, where it belongs?”

  Brandon raised his eyebrows and looked at Mip7.

  “Where are the pilots?” Mip7 asked. “They should be fine now.”

  “They’re in the extat medical center,” Olut6 said, “and they are fine, but they refuse to fly that extat shuttle until the situation out there is resolved! And I can’t spare any pilots. I want that thing out of my hangar!”

  Brandon spoke. “One of them is moving closer.” He pointed to the main screen.

  The other three spun around. A high-pitched alarm then sounded for a few seconds in the bunker. An Amulite on the floor ran over to the base of the platform and yelled up at Olut6.

  “Sir, one is advancing!”

  “Get the fighters out of its path!” Olut6 shouted back. “Let them come! Tell them to clear out!”

  “You can’t mean that, Commander,” the governor said.

  “You’re extat right I mean it! Stick to governing. I’ll handle military matters.”

  Olut6 ran down the stairs and came up behind one of the computer stations, leaving Brandon, Mip7, and the governor up on the platform. Brandon watched the screen as the fighters cleared out of the way. As the advancing object drew closer, it became clearer. It was a gigantic spaceship, generally similar in appearance to the transport ships Brandon saw orbiting Amulen earlier, only at least ten times larger, and proportionally much longer.

  “There is something familiar about that ship,” Mip7 said.

  A dozen red lights materialized underneath the advancing enemy ship and started moving rapidly towards the screen, spreading apart from each other as they approached.

  “Incoming missile barrage,” a voice said on the overhead speaker system. “A large one.”

  “Let them come,” Olut6 shouted from the floor. “They’re in a spread pattern. We have the maximum dispersing range calculated. We’ll hit them at five thousand lengths.”

  “Five thousand lengths, is he insane?” the governor said.

  “Watch,” Mip7 said to Brandon, “and you’ll witness the defense system. Hopefully.”

  The missiles spread out and streaked towards the station, becoming a bit larger on the screen as they approached, alt
hough they still appeared as only short sections of red light to Brandon. Then, the screen seemed to go out of focus. Everything became wavy for a few seconds, and then all the missiles exploded in space. The entire screen was covered in bright yellow and white light for a lingering moment.

  “That’s too close, Commander!” the governor yelled.

  “Incoming missile barrage,” the speaker system said again. When the screen cleared, the orange ship was closer and twice as many red missiles were now on the screen underneath it, spreading out and headed for the station. The screen went wavy for a few seconds, and again all the missiles exploded in space, this time a little farther out.

  “A little better,” the governor muttered.

  The orange ship drew closer.

  “Sir, that’s an Azaarian ship,” Mip7 said to the governor. “I recognize the shape of the dag. Theirs are unique.”

  The governor looked at Mip7 and frowned. “No, I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  “Advancing invader is now in range,” the overhead voice said.

  “Now!” Olut6’s voice from the floor shouted.

  The screen went wavy again, even wavier then the last two times, becoming almost completely out of focus. Then there was a huge orange explosion where the attacking ship was. When it cleared, the enemy ship could be seen spinning helplessly before it separated into many small orange parts. Then, all the orange lights went out. The bunker erupted with cheers.

  Olut6 ran back up the stairs to the platform.

  “You were saying, Governor?”

  The governor smiled. “I was saying governors should govern and military commanders should handle the station defenses.”

  “Sir, they are separating,” a voice from the floor said. Everyone looked back at the screen. One of the invading ships was headed towards the planets. The other began approaching the station, but slowly. It didn’t fire any missiles, and it stopped in the area where the first attacking ship had fired its first volley.

  “Get the boys back in there harassing it,” Olut6 said. “And where in Erob is the main fleet!”

  “Yes sir,” the voice from the floor said. Within seconds, fighters moved back in on the remaining orange ship and began playing cat and mouse with laser fire from it. The invading ship stayed in place.

  Olut6 turned to the governor. “Look—I don’t care if this alien is a recently-thawed fish from the metal ages. If he can fly the shuttle, and he is willing, I want him to take that thing out of my hangar and up to the spaceport!”

  They all looked at Brandon again.

  “Yes Commander,” Brandon said, “I think I can do that for you, and I am willing. Just one thing, though. We find ourselves in need of political favors, as Mip7 has already mentioned. I would hope that perhaps my helping you now may be remembered, if either of you are in a position to aid Mip7 in his project.”

  “We have a battle taking place, Earthling,” Olut6 said, “and maybe a war starting. We can talk about returning favors when my current emergency is over, assuming we all survive it. But yes, get that shuttle out of there and I will see what I can do to help you, when I am able.”

  “Good enough,” Brandon said.

  “I’ll come along,” Mip7 said.

  The governor grabbed Mip7 by the shoulder and said, “No—I need you. Stay with me, please.”

  “He is my project,” Mip7 said. “I go where he goes. We’ll get the shuttle moved and then come back to see you.”

  The governor held his shoulder for a long moment, looked outside at the battle—which had become a standoff again—and then finally nodded and let go.

  * * *

  “What was that weapon?” Brandon asked. He was with Mip7 and Commander Olut6 in a special lift that went directly from the R-3 bunker to the fighter hangar.

  “It’s called Reep-3,” Mip7 said. “It uses electromagnetic power.”

  “Directional magnetic repulsion, actually,” Olut6 said. “But it has to be aimed at a preset, calculated distance where the directional repulsion is to occur. The field generators cover the length of the station, so a spread pattern of missiles is easily defensible. We drew that first warship in by baiting them, directing the repulsion point closer to the station than is comfortable. They probably figured they just needed to get closer for the next volley, and came within the Reep-3 range. Now, however, they know better. If they’re smart, they’ll analyze the defense weapon we used and start releasing volleys in timed depth patterns instead of blanket formations. We won’t be able to stop all of them.”

  “So the fighters will have to chase down the strays?” Mip7 asked.

  “If only that were as easy as you just made it sound. They have to stay out of the way when we fire the weapon, hanging back above or below the station waiting for Reep-3 to impact. Then the pilots have to quickly spot the strays, get them in range, and get a laser on them long enough for ignition before they get past.”

  “You sure you don’t want us to take out a fighter instead of the shuttle?” Mip7 asked, smiling. “I got to level four on the missile defense simulator a couple times.”

  Olut6 laughed. “You might make a fine fighter pilot then, son, but flying the real thing, especially in a battle, isn’t the same as being in a nice, safe simulator.”

  Brandon spoke. “Level four? I had level seven wired on the missile defense program. Was getting bored with it.”

  Olut6 glared at Brandon for a moment.

  “Just get that extat shuttle out of my hangar.”

  The lift arrived and the three of them walked out into the military hangar. This was a different entrance than the way they had exited earlier. Half a dozen deck hands were walking about. The shuttle could be seen on the far side where Brandon had set it down. Several fighter craft were parked between them and the shuttle. Brandon liked the look of the fighters, especially up close. They were sleek and narrow, similar to modern day jet fighters back home, but with much smaller wings.

  “I’ve got to get back to the bunker,” Olut6 said. “Thanks for your help.” He turned and headed back to the lift.

  Before Brandon and Mip7 were able to take three steps towards the shuttle, the sound of a large explosion rocked the hangar. Everything shook violently. Brandon and Mip7 were thrown down. Steam began shooting up from the floor around them. Brandon found it suddenly hard to breath. Mip7 had rolled out across the floor ahead of him, and they were now separated by ten or twelve yards. Then, another explosion and another shaking tumbled Brandon even farther away from him. He found himself holding on to the wing of one of the fighters.

  “The hangar is depressurizing!” Mip7 yelled. “We have to get out of here!”

  Brandon pulled himself up and started running back towards the lift, but stopped when a large steam geyser shot up from the ground in that direction, blocking his way. He turned around. Mip7 had started running towards the shuttle, but another steam geyser was blocking his way as well. Two of the deck hands could be seen running into the corridor the shuttle passengers had exited through earlier. Mip7 looked back at Brandon and pointed in that direction.

  They both started running for it, but immediately fell when the hangar rocked again. When Brandon got up, steam geysers were now blocking the way to the corridor as well, and it was difficult to breathe again. Where was Mip7? He looked around frantically and finally saw him up on the side of one of the fighters next to the cockpit, waving at him. Mip7 then climbed into the cockpit. Brandon started to make for the fighter as well, but another steam geyser shot up in front of him and blocked his way. Brandon couldn’t breathe at all for a long moment. Panic began to set in.

  Brandon turned back towards the lift area. It was still blocked by geysers, but there was another fighter parked close to him. He ran over to it, climbed up the side-ladder, lifted the cockpit door open, and got inside. Lights came on inside the cabin as soon as he closed the cockpit door. Oxygen began to flow and he could breathe freely again. He looked out the window and could see Mip7 waving to him from in
side the cockpit of the other fighter now, between gusts of steam. Brandon sucked in air heavily until he regained his composure.

  A speaker crackled inside the cockpit.

  “Brandon, do you read me?”

  Brandon didn’t know how to use the radio, so he waved back at the other fighter and nodded until Mip7 saw him through a break in the steam.

  “Hold the button under the speaker, where you hear my voice, until it has three yellow lights. Three yellow lights,” he repeated, “under the speaker. That will open our own 2-way channel. The dial controls the volume.”

  Brandon looked around and figured out which button he meant, up on the dash near where his voice was coming from. When he pushed down on it, the lights underneath turned different colors and flashed on in different numbers. He could hear bits and pieces of other conversations as the lights kept changing—including what sounded like Olut6’s voice yelling extat. He must have gotten out of the hangar okay. When the lights turned yellow, he let his finger off the button and punched it until there were three of them.

  “Mip7, can you hear me?”

  “I read you, Brandon. We can talk now. I think we need to get out of here. The hangar has been hit and is depressurizing. Not safe out there. Only one way out now. We need to fly these fighters out of here. Think you can do it?”

  Brandon surveyed the cockpit interior. Everything was extremely familiar, much more so than the shuttle controls had been.

  “I think so,” Brandon replied, “but what do I do first?”

  “Strap yourself in. Push the two switches at top center on the overhead console, just above the yellow horizontal lever. When they light up, move the lever up and to the right. That will seal the cockpit and start the preflight program. You can then use the hover controls.”

  Everything shook again, and Brandon found his fighter was completely surrounded in steam. Mip7 was probably right. Flying out of here looked like the only way out. He strapped himself in, found the two switches, pushed them, and then the dash lights all lit up. He pulled the lever over and heard the hover engines come on. The ship lifted up slightly. Now he knew what to do. He took hold of the half-steering wheel and began hovering forward, slowly. The steam in the hangar cleared for brief moments, enough for Brandon to see there was nothing in front of him and that he was headed toward the exit.