Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation) (14 page)

“You mean your father?”

“Whatever word you just spoke translated into a word only the Sheen use. It is a term they use to designate respect for their direct male ancestor.”

“I see,” Brandon said. But he really didn’t.

“I suppose you come from a culture where they use multiple names?” Mip7 asked. “I have found that most races use either numbers or multiple names for unique identification.”

“Yes, each of us has two or three names. My last name is Foss.”

“So, Brandon Foss,” Mip7 said.

“Yes, but we call each other by our first name only, except in formal situations. What was your mother’s name?” Brandon took a sip from his tube. It was bitter and harsh tasting.

“That’s not the way to take this drink. Watch.” Mip7 put the tube to his mouth, threw back his head, and swallowed the entire portion.

Brandon was a little nervous after feeling a burning in his mouth from the small sip, but he went ahead and swallowed half the remaining serving. He never was one for doing shots. He then had a moment of panic as his mouth became inflamed. It seriously burned. The thought crossed his mind that this alien drink could quite possibly put a hole in his stomach. But then, the inside of his mouth turned smooth and buttery. No more burning. A slight fruitiness was on his tongue, and finally a butterscotch flavor prevailed. He had never consumed anything that changed on his palate so much. It was compelling, to say the least. Suddenly he felt good, a moment of pure euphoria. He tossed back the rest of the drink.

“I think maybe you are asking about my direct female ancestor,” Mip7 said. “I don’t know her name. Native Torians are not raised by their biological parents.”

Brandon was now feeling really, really good.

“Who raises you, then?”

“Most of us grow up in parental colonies. They are like small cities, separated from the rest of our society. Not much different from this place, actually, but more modern. Full of kids, and run by volunteers—Toras mostly, that is, females.”

Mip7 looked around the lounge. “I remember this place, though. I was here once before, for a week when I was young, in education level 6.” He held up his empty tube. “Too young to drink.”

Brandon looked at his own empty tube and said, “This stuff is fascinating, and quite good. Maybe too good. I don’t normally drink anything this strong. I’m more of a beer guy.”

“There’s another word that doesn’t translate. We do have milder alcohol drinks. Not wise to have more than one tube of Redflower-20. In fact, it used to be against the law to have more than one tube of it.”

Mip7 motioned to the bartender. “Two glasses of argim, please.”

The bartender filled two normal-looking glasses with something that came out of a spout. Now, that looked more up Brandon’s alley. Although, he would have to remember about this—what was it, twenty flowers?—for future reference, perhaps for medicinal purposes. The new drink the bartender delivered had a faint floral-honey odor and tasted somewhat like flat semi-sweet beer. Good enough.

“If all Torians are named after their ancestors, shouldn’t your name be closer to Mip875 or something by now?”

“The string ends at nine. Then the first vowel in the name is changed, sequentially, and we start over again. By the time a name repeats, there is unlikely to be many others who are still alive with the same identification. If need calls for it, we can then add the continent and planet of our birth to further uniquely identify us. It works well. For example, Director Markin1 must have come after a Myrkin9, who may have been his direct ancestor.”

“He’s the one with the neck collar?”

“Correct.”

“He doesn’t like us much, does he?”

Mip7 shook his head and took a sip of argim. “I believe he likes Arkan9 and myself even less than he likes you, though. That director is a serious problem. I need to figure out how I can get back to RL-71 and help revive the research subjects—all of them, not just the Earthlings—but Markin1 revoked our access. I was worried about us getting out of the spaceport, actually, but Arkan9 wisely booked us with an independent charter service. We were fortunate to escape.”

“Escape? What are we, fugitives, now?”

“I wouldn’t say fugitives, no. More like persons of interest—which you are anyway, being aliens. No need to worry at this point. Director Markin1’s authority is limited. We got out of there and that’s the end of that. You two are relatively safe now. Arkan9 seems to have …a power of some kind, as well. He is greatly interested in the welfare of your race.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Why are
you
interested in the welfare of frozen aliens?” Brandon asked.

Mip7 set down his glass and thought for a moment before responding.

“I don’t really know that, either, but I find that I am. Up until a couple weeks ago, I didn’t feel my life had any real purpose. I haven’t held a job I particularly liked. This is the first thing I have ever felt strongly about, if the truth be known. I don’t know why Arkan9 chose me or how he even knew about me, but he knows a lot. Maybe he really is a prophet, who knows? I only know those cryonic chambers full of intelligent aliens are a terrible injustice and a smear on Torian society. I want to do whatever is necessary to correct the situation. But right now, I seem to be helpless over the matter. That must change. I have to figure out how to get back there and help. I’m almost certain Professor Yob3 is on our side. I guess I should have become a scientist.”

Mip7’s words had a profound effect on Brandon. Obviously, not all of these aliens were bad guys. You can’t blame an entire race for the actions of a few. Brandon took another sip and thought about his situation. Things began to become clearer in his mind. This big lizard-man who he was having a beer with was his ally. Mip7’s purpose and priorities were truly honorable, and if Brandon were to now have some kind of life that was actually worth living, he needed to align his own motivations with those of Mip7’s.

“Let me know what I can do to help,” Brandon said. “I’ve got nothing else to do, right? And the thought of my people lying in those tanks is unbearable.”

Mip7 looked at him and nodded. They finished their drinks and went back to their huts for an overdue nap.

Brandon woke up several hours later. It was beginning to get dark out, and cooler. He could see lights flickering outside and the familiar smell of campfires filled his hut. He got up.

Mip7 was sitting on the bench outside his hut using his tablet computer for something. Tiki-style torches were lit all around the huts. Quite a few Sheen were moving about, some of them with their hoods off and cloaks open, emitting brightness from their uncovered bodies. Those beings were their own lamps. Brandon noticed they were structurally built much like the natives, but had thinner-looking leather skin that was colored more like the Amulites than the Banorians, of a slightly-silver pigmentation. But their fingers were much longer, and their facial features were more human looking.

Brandon casually walked over to Mip7’s bench. He saw a fire pit glowing through a clearing, and then noticed Derek walking towards him from that direction. The sight of a monk in gravity shoes walking through a campsite of grassy huts looked appropriate somehow. Derek had some food in his hands, a loaf of bread maybe. When he got closer, Brandon could tell the loaf of bread had something inside it.

“Groovy campfires, man. There’s food over there. I made a sandwich. Want half?”

Brandon was hungry, so he nodded, and Derek broke him off a chunk. It was like a fish sandwich of some kind, and tasted good.

With his mouth full, Derek motioned at Mip7 and said to Brandon, “That thing he uses is a total trip, man. Freaks me out a little.” Mip7 was still sitting, engaged in whatever he was doing.

“We actually have devices similar that in my time,” Brandon said. “You finally hit on something they have here that I am used to seeing.”

“No way, man.”

“Yeah,” Brandon said. “They are called tablet computers. Portable personal computers with touch screens. Really thin and square like that—although, ours are solid, even when they are turned off. That one he’s using is pretty wild, I admit, with nothing in the middle until he turns it on. It freaks me out a little, too. See how he taps on it. Somehow, a solid screen appears where there was only empty space. They must have the ability to turn energy into matter, and they use it for everyday tasks like checking the weather and sending messages, I suppose.”

Mip7 stood up and spoke. “We do have energy/matter conversion technology, but the way this operates is more like a force-field, overlaid with a very sensitive light energy screen. It can’t accurately be labeled as matter. That’s why it’s called a lightpad.”

“Huh,” Brandon said.

Mip7 handed him the lightpad to inspect. “The power is activated on the side here.”

Brandon played with it a little before handing it back to him. It was cool, but of course the symbols which appeared on the screen were completely foreign to him. Still, if that was the next model iPad Apple rolled out, he wouldn’t be all that surprised.

A voice from behind them spoke.

“I see you got something to eat. Good.” Brandon and Derek spun around. It was Arkan9.

“Please follow me,” Arkan9 said. “I have something to share that you should find …refreshing.” This was the first time Brandon had seen Arkan9’s shiny, uncovered head.

“The halcyon arc?” Mip7 asked.

Arkan9 nodded and smiled in response. He then led them through the maze of huts and past several campfire rings, where Brandon noticed children, the first ones he had seen. They looked more like Sheen than native Torian children, except they had no glow.

“I thought kids were raised in separate colonies,” Brandon said to Mip7.

Arkan9 answered him. “The Sheen raise their own young.”

Brandon looked around the camp and said, “Then shouldn’t there also be female Sheen living here?”

“Indeed there are,” Arkan9 said. “You have doubtlessly seen some of them, but your eyes likely cannot tell them apart from the males—unless they were to remove their cloaks, something female Sheen never do in public.”

“Oh.”

They came to an opening near a grove of trees. A fire was burning in a pit in the middle of the clearing. Several Sheen were sitting around the fire.

Near the trees was a strange object. It was a large triangular frame, a little smaller than the size of a man. It appeared to be carved from rock, and the stand which held it upright also appeared to be of rock. It held energy. The frame glowed faintly from just inside the rim. Several Sheen were sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of it. When they saw Arkan9 and his guests, they stood up and left.

Arkan9 motioned for everyone to keep following him. He came up before the object and sat on the ground. Brandon noticed the glow inside the frame greatly intensified and spread deeper in towards its center as they approached. The three of them sat down behind Arkan9. Its light then dimmed some, but only by a little.

“This is the halcyon arc, a sacred Erobian artifact,” Arkan9 said. “It is, in fact, the only remaining object of Erob origin in all of Tora, save for one identical other.”

“Right on,” Derek said.

“Why do you say that?” Brandon asked Derek. “Are you suddenly a Torian history buff?”

“No man, don’t go ape. I just think it’s cool. There’s like a righteous energy flowing from this thing.” He turned to Arkan9. “Am I right?”

“Yes,” Arkan9 replied. “You are very intuitive, Derek. There is a strong spiritual sense about you. The energy from the halcyon arc is of Erob. It cleanses our beings, and replenishes whatever we have spent of ourselves from focusing too much on things in this physical dimension. See how brightly it glows, because we have become so imbalanced. As we are cleansed and become balanced again, its light will dim.”

Derek stretched his neck all around, closed his eyes, and held his hands out with palms upward.

“This is…so…totally…right…freaking…on…man.”

Brandon looked at Mip7 and asked, “Is this for real?”

Mip7 shrugged. “It’s what they believe. I believed it too, when I was here as a child. Maybe this is what I need.” He closed his eyes and assumed the same position as Derek.

Arkan9 just sat peacefully, making no strange poses. Brandon decided to just lean back on his hands and look at the night sky. The stars were thick here, just like camping back home.

After an hour or so, the glow of the halcyon arc did begin to dim a little, but was still nowhere near as dim as it had been when the other Sheen were sitting in front of it. Derek, Mip7, and Arkan9 were all still sitting peacefully and seemed to be content. Brandon had to admit he did feel calm and rested, especially while stargazing, but he was beginning to have uncomfortable fits. He noticed two Sheen children playing a game in the dirt behind them, on the other side of the fire pit, and decided to walk over and observe them. He would come back after stretching his legs a bit.

It was a simple game, played with rocks and a stick with one leaf on it. One child would arrange the rocks in some kind of a pattern, and then drop the stick in the middle. They would both snatch up some of the rocks as soon as the stick fell. One child would then remove the stick, and they would begin placing the rocks back in the dirt, in turn, one at a time, and sometimes then turn some of the other rocks over. That’s when Brandon realized the rocks were black only on one side. He watched them play several games before one of the children got up to leave. The other one then looked up at Brandon and motioned for him to sit down. So he did.

The Sheen-child talked in a soft, even-toned manner much as Arkan9 spoke. He was very polite as he explained the game. Brandon came to understand it as a simplified form of Othello, except for the stone snatching at the beginning—which one did based on which way the leaf was facing, taking only stones that were black up or black down until no two stones of the same color were adjacent to each other. From there it played like Othello, the player with the most stones going first.

The child won the first two games while Brandon was getting the hang of it, but then Brandon won the next two games. The child insisted they play one more game to determine “the champion.” Brandon looked over and saw his friends all still sitting in front of the halcyon arc, so he complied, and won the final game easily.