Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move (35 page)

Three moves later, Jumper broke to defend. The game was going to his liking, but he wanted the Narshan to think he was under stress. So he took his time and feigned a look of concern.

The phantom voice on his left spoke again.

“Don’t take too much time. If we keep playing fast, whichever of us wins can get the time advancement.”

This time, Jumper looked straight ahead as he heard the voice speak. Sure enough, the Narshan’s seat was vacant. Jumper blinked, and he was right back in it. This opponent was the fastest moving creature Jumper could even imagine existing. He wondered if anyone else saw it and looked around. All appeared normal and the field guards were in their same positions.

Jumper considered reporting the Narshan for a breach of ethical play, but what he did was technically within the rules. It was more like a creative type of gamesmanship. Truth be told, Jumper held a certain level of appreciation for it. He decided to play along.

“You’re right,” Jumper said. “We should keep the pace up.” Jumper pretended to desperately search for a move, waving the piece in his hand around from place to place, looking back and forth from his developing side-pattern to the Narshan’s pattern in the main cluster. Finally, he put the piece in the spot he planned on all along. It was a blocking move. Jumper hoped it looked spontaneous, and that his opponent wouldn’t notice the subtle bridging threat to his side pattern—which would cut right through the center cluster and encompass it from above if allowed to complete.

He didn’t notice it. The Narshan made the expected move and three moves later the game was nearly complete. The Narshan had taken the obvious route and was now two moves away from completing a solid winning pattern. He looked confident. He must have not yet seen that Jumper was only two moves away from his own winning pattern, and now had the initiative.

“I like you,” the Narshan said. “It’s been a pleasure playing you. As one Torian minority to another, I extend you an invitation to friendship. You are welcome in our camps.”

That’s when Jumper realized his opponent was of the other non-native Torian race Belle-ub had mentioned.

“It’s been my pleasure as well,” Jumper said. He then let the hammer down with his two-way bridging move. There was no way to stop it. Whatever the Narshan did now, he would lose on Jumper’s next move. Jumper sat back and folded his arms across his chest, immensely satisfied.

The Narshan made his expected move, blocking one avenue of Jumper’s bridge and setting himself up for a win on his next move.

But then he saw Jumper’s winning move.

The voice from Jumper’s left side spoke again.

“Don’t do it. Please.”

Then from his right.

“I can win the tournament. We need the prize.”

“You couldn’t beat me,” Jumper said. The Narshan was back in his seat. “Even with your tricks. That doesn’t convince me you can easily win two more games.”

The Narshan leaned forward with despair in his eyes.

“Earthling, please,” he said. “We can finally leave this place. We can use the prize to rightfully be returned to our home planet. We’re prisoners here, and the atmosphere is beginning to make us unhealthy. Surely you understand our plight.”

Now that was a different story. Jumper paused. The Narshans were an abductee race just as the Earthlings were. That meant from an underdeveloped world, incapable of interstellar space travel. Their being held captive on this planet was every bit as wrong as the agritent workers being slaves, maybe worse.

Jumper held his piece over the winning spot, but pulled it away and studied the Narshan. Jumper then looked up to the sky for a minute, and finally back to the frame. He made his final move.

The crowd cheered as the first game of the second round finished. The players at the other three tables all slumped down in their seats as the news that there was no longer a reason to play fast struck them. Some may have gotten themselves into a bad position from being rushed by the time incentive.

“Congratulations to our first semi-finalist,” Belle-ub’s voice said. The crowd took their cue and roared with applause as Jumper and the Narshan walked across the field. Jumper got the feeling they had been watching the game on the big screen with interest, and were impressed.

Wot7, the tournament director, jogged over to Jumper and shook his hand. He then directed him to the winner’s box where he would have the privilege of being a spectator for the third round.

“Sorry,” Jumper said to the Narshan. “I will think about your prize request, though.”

The Narshan bowed and exited the field through the loser’s gate.

*

The last place Hol4 wanted to be was back in orbit spacewalking again. He had been allowed only two hours of sleep, which was almost more tortuous than none at all. Yet here he was in a spacesuit floating over Banor again, tethered to the same shuttle, working on another satellite.

Only this time it was an alien satellite.

Military command confirmed its weapons systems were disabled, thanks to the new technology Hol4 helped install a few hours ago. It was basically the same system the new Sheen prophet on Amulen had in place to defend the atmosphere over Continent-3, except transmitted from a series of satellites above Banor. The satellite-based system created an effective range from just outside the atmosphere to a maximum-distance spacecraft orbit.

The aliens could still attack Banor, but would have to be inside the atmosphere—either that, or far enough out of orbit that any weapons fired would have little hope for accuracy. Their terrible attack satellites had all been placed in a fairly standard orbit, so were rendered useless for the time being.

The High General still wanted them dismantled. It was not expected to be an easy job, nor particularly safe. The enemy ships were still trying to figure out why their weapons wouldn’t fire, and kept coming in to try again. Several whooshed by the unit that Hol4 and another technician were working on, a little too close for comfort. Their navigation systems were also off-kilter, so there was an all-too-real risk of collision.

But the High General wanted the drones deconstructed, and he wanted it done now. Because of the steady magnetic frequency bombardment, it had to be done using hand tools. What had Hol4 gotten himself into? These alien satellites were shielded by an unknown material, and the military wanted a piece of one to analyze. Hol4 wasn’t optimistic about finding a nook or cranny that would lend itself to disassembly after hearing how they stood up to laser fire, missiles, and REEP blasts. He made his way up, over, and around one end of the unit he was assigned to. The technician who was spacewalking with him took the other end.

“I’m coming up with nothing,” Hol4 said into his helmet radio. “This thing is positively sealed, even where the defense laser barrels extend. The main weapon shoots are the largest opening, but there are no external parts, latches, or doors that I can find.”

“That’s affirmative,” the other technician replied. “Same here. Can’t find a way to remove even a small piece of it.”

“All right,” the shuttle commander replied. “The High General might blow his circuits, but we gave it a go the best we could. We’ll proceed with the detonation plan. Go ahead and plant the devices.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hol4 and the other technician each had a cylindrical device tethered to their ankle. It had been hastily engineered during Hol4’s two hours of sleep by the top military weapons scientists. Essentially, the device was a modified REEP rifle, the type the ground forces used, rigged for remote firing and attached to an expanding-diameter cylinder on the far end.

Hol4 made his way to the drone’s main weapon tubes. This was the part of the job that worried him most, but he couldn’t dwell on that now. He unhooked the device from his leg and inserted the muzzle into one of the tubes, then twisted the cylinder on the end so it expanded. What a primitive way of holding it in place. They couldn’t even use tractor beam technology in the current magnetic frequency storm of their own creation.

He cranked the cylinder butt open as far as he could, with all his strength, and then tried to pull on the device. It held, and felt reasonably secure. The other technician waved at him to signal he was finished, and they began pulling themselves back towards the shuttle bay doors on their tethers.

One down.

*

Captain Jol2’s squadron was the only one assigned to defend Cardinal-4. It was a ruse. They wanted the enemy to believe the Torians regarded fighter defense of the station to be unnecessary because of the light weapon. So far, it appeared to be working.

No frequency-controlled weapons could fire over Banor while the new defense system was activated. All modern weapons systems were frequency-controlled, so that put an end to any battle taking place in orbit over Banor. This included defensive weapons. The Torian pilots were now just as helpless as the enemy there. Worse, actually, as their ships seemed to shudder more from the navigational control interference than the enemy’s did. The High General ordered most of the squadrons away from Banor in an attempt to draw the enemy’s attention elsewhere.

Some of the fighter fleet remained inside Banor’s atmosphere running routine patrols. The enemy did not attempt to come in that low as of yet. Jol2 speculated there were two reasons for that. They were likely fearful of encountering the light weapon again, and/or other heavy ground defenses. The Torians were no doubt confusing them with unfamiliar technology. The other probable reason was their black ships could be seen much easier with manual targeting systems once inside the atmosphere, and they didn’t wish to give up that advantage.

The majority of the Torian fighter squadrons had taken up a defensive position near Amulen. That could be dangerous for the fleets of the visiting aliens, but Olut6 didn’t seem to be too concerned about them. Jol2’s squadron hovering over Cardinal-4 was closest to the enemy activity at present. The attacking ships had largely pulled out to a position in space a reasonable distance from the dark side of Banor. They were far enough away that Jol2 couldn’t see them well, appearing as small blacked-out patches of stars in the distance. The astronomers on the ground were tracking them, though, and had their position fed to Jol2’s schematic screen in the cockpit.

Enemy squadrons were still breaking from the pack and making runs at Banor, probably in an attempt to discover the reason their weapons wouldn’t fire. Several cargo shuttles were in orbit with spacewalker teams out tinkering with the disabled enemy satellites, and, according to command, planting devices they hoped would destroy them. Thirteen new drone satellites had been placed in orbit by the enemy, enough to reduce the entire world of Banor to rubble if left unchecked. The new frequency disturbance defense system had been implemented with no time to spare. If it wasn’t for that, all of Tora could well be destroyed or conquered. Jol2 realized the danger of that occurring still existed as long as those Erob-awful attack satellites remained.

Jol2 reassessed the current situation. The Torian fighter fleet was in a defensive position above Amulen, except for Jol2’s squadron at Cardinal-4. The enemy had gathered into an immense formation at maximum attack distance from Banor, and they were using local propulsion to make runs at it, sometimes coming dangerously close to the spacewalker teams who were manually employing inventive anti-drone tactics. The enemy squadrons would return to their main formation after their unproductive runs at Banor. It looked to be a race to see if the spacewalkers could destroy the enemy satellites before the enemy figured out a way to stop them—possibly, Erob forbid, with intentional suicide collisions. Jol2 prayed they wouldn’t resort to that.

But there was one other matter: the ITF1’s had yet to appear on the scene. Jol2 knew the High General was holding them back, looking for an opportunity to use them effectively in a surprise attack.

A large group of enemy ships broke from the pack now and came at Banor. This was something new. They kept breaking off, and kept coming, until more than half of them were engaged in a colossal attack run. Those poor spacewalkers were about to be bombarded.

“Large incoming dispersal,” Jol2 radioed the ground.

“We see them, thanks,” Olut6’s voice said back. “Speculation on their intent, Captain?”

“Could be they’ll break into the atmosphere and let loose with a missile barrage,” Jol2 answered.

“That’s what we’re afraid of down here.”

There was nothing to do but watch.

They stayed out of the atmosphere. It was only a massive run. Jol2 knew what they were doing now. They must be testing the limitations of the new defense system. With so many ships coming at once, all attempting to fire, they would finally know whether the technology was directionally aimed or deployed in a blanket pattern. Once they figured that out, it should be a simple deduction to conclude the small satellites were creating the blanket of disturbance. At that point, they might risk ramming the satellites. The Torian fleet would have to come in and defend them if that happened, and it would be extremely dirty work.

The black silhouettes were all over Banor’s profile. They came in tight patterns and buzzed the cargo shuttles close. Then, Jol2 saw one of the spacewalkers spin haplessly away. One of the enemy ships must have come between his shuttle and the satellite he was working on, and severed his tether. Jol2’s heart sank.

The enemy ships circled behind Banor and arced their way towards the remnant of their fleet. Now, if Jol2 were in command of this battle, he would be extremely interested to see if they would reconvene in the same formation. He watched carefully as they came back around and joined the minority who stayed behind.

“General,” Jol2 said. “The enemy fleet is reassembling in the same position, and facing forward.
Forward
, General.”

“When I want your extat analysis I’ll ask for it,” Olut6’s voice shot back.

Jol2 smiled. He knew his commander. Olut6 wasn’t scolding him. That was his way of communicating that he was way ahead of Jol2, and didn’t need him broadcasting possible intelligence to the enemy.