Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move (11 page)

“What happened?” Brandon asked.

Yob3 slowly turned around. “It didn’t work, Brandon. It was too soon. The contaminant was much stronger than I suspected. It mutated after retreating, strengthened itself, and then attacked our culture and overwhelmed it. We managed to get these five safely out of the network. But the rest are now in just as bad as condition as before, possibly worse. I’m sorry.”

Brandon plopped to the floor and buried his head in his hands. He stayed that way for several minutes. No one in the room said anything. The two shuttle pilots stood above him and seemed sympathetic. One of them eventually leaned down and squeezed Brandon’s shoulder.

Brandon stood up. His eyes were red.

“My fault,” he said. “It’s my fault. I rushed it. I knew the risks. I felt I had to take the chance. Please don’t console me. I’m okay. One cannot fault their decisions when they understand the risks in advance and choose to live with the results.” He wiped his face with his forearms.

“What happened outside?” Yob3 asked.

“We had a scuffle with some locals and the shuttle was hit with weapons,” Brandon said. “It may be damaged.”

“We’ll check it out,” one of the pilots said. The two of them hurried out.

Yob3 stepped forward. “These five can be revived, Brandon. The facilities here are all operational. Same way we did it 25 years ago, if you like.”

Brandon nodded and walked around to the backside of the cryonic chamber network. He pulled at a tank on the bottom level. It wheeled partway out. The figure inside seemed much larger than all the others.

“What about him?” Brandon said.

Yob3 frowned. “I was afraid you’d ask that.”

“The hull shield is too badly damaged for interplanetary travel. Not capable of atmosphere re-entry. Everything else is all right, though, so we can get around Amulen.”

“Okay, thanks,” Brandon said to the shuttle pilot. “Our task here is only minimally successful, but we’ll move forward with the resuscitation of the five subjects we managed to save. I have an errand to run, unfortunately, so we’ll move the bulk of the food supply from the shuttle into the lab and seal the building again while I’m gone.”

“What about us?” Jumper asked.

“You kids come with me.”

Jumper was happy to hear that.

Yob3 objected. “Brandon, you know this process goes a lot easier when another Earthling is here to help administrate.”

“I’d stay if I could, Professor. Believe me. You’ve revived twenty-five of us with no human administrators, and we all turned out fine—except for Derek, or course.” Jumper cocked his head but straightened it when Yob3 laughed.

Brandon’s lightpad beeped. He activated it, read a message, and chuckled.

“Mip7 has booked me a ride on a hostile alien shuttle with a rebellious militia leader, in an attempt to stop a war. Sounds perfect. Just like the old days.”

Yob3 stopped laughing. “Why do I have the feeling we’re going to be stranded here?”

“You won’t,” Brandon said. “I’ve let both Mip7 and Olut6 know our situation. Worse comes to worse, one of them will see to your transportation needs. Derek also knows you’re here, and you have your lightpad. Tun2 will stay with you. He might come in handy.”

“The three of us can handle everything in the lab,” Yob3 said. “You sure you don’t need the soldier with you?”

“I’m sure. Where I’m going, he’d only be a burden. I should be back before the new subjects are ready to be transported.”

“That would be nice.”

Brandon and the two pilots moved cartons of food and equipment from the shuttle to the laboratory, along with a few weapons. There was no more trouble outside. When they were finished, Brandon reassured Yob3 that he would soon return before leading Jumper, Alan, and Kayla back out to the shuttle. Tun2 was waiting for them. It was getting to be late in the day.

“Have Yob3 reactivate the force-field from the inside,” Brandon said to Tun2. “I’m going to hover until I see it come on. Please don’t make me wait around until more of those mini-drones show up.”

Tun2 looked concerned but agreed. The thought crossed Jumper’s mind that he took orders from Brandon as if Brandon was his commander. But then, soldiers were conditioned to receive orders from people who sounded authoritative. Jumper knew that’s why he could never join the military. Not unless they let him in as the High General.

Jumper climbed into the copilot’s seat with enthusiasm, never having been in a real cockpit before. He enjoyed the few flights he’d taken on the commercial shuttles in the past, but these small private crafts were a different experience. Jumper looked behind him to watch Alan and Kayla settle in. When they were securely in the cabin with the door closed, Brandon fired up the hover engines.

“When’s the last time you flew one of these, Uncle Brandon?”

“Trust me—you don’t want to know the answer to that.”

Jumper smiled widely at his response. He knew Alan and Kayla overheard it and were probably nervous as a result, which made it even better. As far as Jumper was concerned, life didn’t get any better than this moment. He was out of the Earth colony, away from the university, and embarking on an adventure with Uncle Brandon, who was famous among humans for his adventures. Here Jumper was right next to him in the copilot seat. The fact that Uncle Brandon was flying, and admitting to being a little rusty at it, perfected the scene.

Tun2 waited until they were off the ground before entering the building. Brandon ignited the thrusters, and apparently decided to get re-familiar with the shuttle controls by diving and swooping all around RL-71. He was obviously out of practice, as the motions of the craft weren’t smooth. Jumper laughed like an infant being thrown in the air by his father as he gripped the handle over the copilot’s door. He glanced in the cabin and saw his two friends both clinging tight to the overhead railing. Kayla made eye contact with him.

“Oh, Jumper’s having waaaayyy too much fun,” she said.

The wall around RL-71 finally lit up in red. Brandon quit fooling around and took the shuttle up and out in the direction of Continent-3. He flew it steady from there and the engine noise quieted down enough for everyone to talk in a normal tone.

“I was beginning to wish we brought the float suits back there,” Alan said from the cabin. He then mumbled something under his breath that Jumper thought sounded like, “Still do, actually.”

“About that,” Brandon said. “Why don’t you and Jumper now tell me what really happened on your overnight mountain trip.”

“What do you mean?” Jumper asked.

“I mean the real story, not the padded version you both gave your fathers. Not that I blame you. The area you were in is close to a hotbed of recent activity, and I may have need of the information you can give me.”

Jumper hesitated. “We…”

“Yes?”

“We didn’t pad it too much. We stayed out overnight because of trouble with our cruiser. I’ll confess that we tested Dad’s new suits on steeper ground than was probably wise, but only after we had good results on the shallow slopes.”

“That still sounds like the padded version,” Brandon said.

Kayla spoke up. “You want the real story, get ahold of his lightpad and read his journal.” She paused and then added, “But if you do, please skip over the parts about me.”

Brandon glanced at Jumper with a look of approval and said, “Journal, huh?”

Jumper didn’t answer. Brandon crossed the sea and reached the shores of Continent-3 before anyone said another word. The sun was low in the sky and shadows were stretching across the valleys.

“Are we really going to the space station in an alien ship?” Kayla asked.

“I think he was joking,” Alan said. “He was laughing when he said that, remember? Right, Brandon?”

Jumper thought he detected a trace of hope in Alan’s voice, so he chimed in to straighten him out.

“Of course we’re going to Cardinal-4. The governor needs to see Uncle Brandon—right, Uncle Brandon?”

Brandon didn’t immediately answer. He allowed the ensuing uncomfortable silence to extend as he looked about over the top of a mountain range they had come to.

Finally, he said, “See how inconvenient it is to be lacking information?”

Jumper squirmed in his seat and wanted to change the subject. Wherever they were going, it was fine with him—as long as he was coming along. He looked down at the mountains.

“Aren’t these the Sinlos?”

“Very good,” Brandon said. “You recognize them from the air, too.” He slowed the shuttle and descended. Soon they were skimming the treetops on the west side of the range. At one spot Brandon slowed to a hover, and then circled around. They came across an open flat area. Half a dozen figures could be seen running into the trees and rock crevices as the shuttle approached. Jumper thought the area looked familiar and became uncomfortable again.

“Careful, Uncle Brandon. The mountain dwellers are armed.”

Brandon glanced at Jumper with his eyebrows raised. He then flew the shuttle off the mountains down into the foothills, slowed, hovered, and landed. The engines turned off. Brandon opened all the doors using the pilot’s controls and vacated the cockpit.

Jumper recognized the place while he was still sitting on board. This was where he and Alan parked their cruiser two days ago, where it had been taken by the Midlands patrol. Brandon landed the shuttle on almost the exact same spot. Jumper turned back to the cabin. Alan looked alarmed. He must have figured out where they were, too. Jumper shrugged and exited the cockpit.

Brandon was walking on the slope above them. Alan and Kayla came out of the cabin and they all followed.

Brandon stopped a short ways up. When the three of them reached him, they saw he was standing before a small pile of cortzye stones and burned wood.

“This was your campfire, wasn’t it?” Brandon asked.

Jumper looked at Alan. Alan nodded and said, “Yes.”

Brandon sat on the ground. Kayla plopped down after him. Jumper and Alan slowly joined them there.

“Beautiful evening,” Brandon said when they were all sitting.

“You want us to gather some wood and start a fire?” Alan asked.

“No. We won’t be staying.”

Kayla whistled. “Now I see why you guys are always leaving the city. This is nice. Look at those streaks in the sky on the horizon.”

“You know what those are?” Brandon asked.

Jumper picked up one of the cortzye stones and said, “I suspect you’re going to tell us it’s from the firmament decay.”

“Yes—very good, Jumper. Tell me, what have you been taught about human life expectancy?”

Jumper thought for a moment. “Nothing that I can remember.”

“Don’t think I’ve never thought about it,” Kayla said.

Brandon looked back at the sky. “On Earth, in my time, humans in modern societies were expected to live about eighty years, depending on their culture and individual lifestyle. That would equate to 97 Torian years. Now, no Torian Earthlings have had the opportunity to die of natural causes, since the abductees were all under fifty years of age and we have not been prone to disease on the Torian worlds—yet, anyway. But based on Banorian health studies, our life expectancies on Banor are projected to be much longer than on Earth. More for the generations who are born here, since you don’t have the extra years of cryonic preservation factored in. Humans on Banor should naturally live to an average age of 150, close to the life expectancy of Sheen, and not all that much shorter than the 180-year life expectancy of natives.”

“But not here?” Alan said.

Brandon shook his head. “Not now. Back when you were born, however, it was different. Conditions on Amulen were more or less identical to those on Banor. Your life expectancy should have been about the same. But now the Amulen atmospheric conditions have degraded to become similar to those on Earth. I already see signs of aging on Jumper’s dad, and even on Professor Yob3 some. This is because the firmament has weakened here, and no longer protects us from cosmic rays.”

“I don’t want to leave my home world,” Jumper said.

Alan and Kayla nodded in agreement, but not all that dogmatically.

“You’re all adults now—barely—so the choice is yours. But you should understand you’re choosing a short life on a planet that is deteriorating, when you could easily live long healthy lives on Banor with the rest of us. Should you all end up staying here, I might well outlive the three of you—which I find tragic.”

Kayla stood up and said, “Brandon, why haven’t the Torian humans gone back to Earth?” She walked around behind him and kneeled before a small bush, as if something about it caught her attention.

“That was our original intent, Kayla. The Torian government agreed to plan an Earth relocation project for us, but the breakout of further galactic hostilities kept them from fulfilling it. The military has been involved in two minor campaigns since the famous battles I took part in, and they felt they couldn’t spare the interstellar transport fleet. Amulen production has since crashed, and by the time military operations were fully supported at Banor, we humans had all settled in and adapted. I mean women were pregnant, we were raising families with small children, and the move back to Earth no longer held the same attraction. Many of us still talk of it, but most Earthlings consider life on Banor to be good—so the motivation to return to Earth is now lapsing. It’s understandable. Giving up what you know is good for something that might be good can rightfully be considered a foolish gamble.”