Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move (25 page)

There was no one else in that room, but a bright light was shining through the partially open door to the adjoining room.

“Sit here,” Mip7 said. He went to the opposite side of the table and sat as well, putting the extra cup of coffee on the table in front of the empty seat next to him.

Brandon and Olut6 tried to look through the open slot of doorway. The light was much too bright and hurt Brandon’s eyes. He had to look away. Then he heard the door close and looked back. A figure was now standing in front of the closed door, shining brightly—but nowhere near as bright as the light that had been coming through the doorway a moment ago. The figure was normal-looking, and brought a certain undefined comfort to Brandon. Its light faded some and Brandon could see that whoever it was wore a cloak. His light dimmed further. It was a Sheen.

It was …Arkan9.

Brandon jumped up and ran over to him. Arkan9 was smiling warmly and extended his hand. Brandon grasped his arm with both hands and shook it vigorously. Arkan9 appeared to be about five years older than the last time Brandon saw him, 25 years ago.

“It’s you!” Brandon said. “I can’t believe it! I wondered if I would ever see you again.”

“It was worth the trip just to see you, and feel the loving energy from your soul, Brandon.”

“When did you arrive? And why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“I’m telling you now. It’s so good to see you. I would not have missed it.”

Brandon turned to Mip7 but didn’t let go of Arkan9’s arm. “Why didn’t
you
tell me he was here?”

Mip7 shrugged. He was smiling from watching the reunion. “Business first,” he said.

“I requested of the governor that our presence not be revealed to anyone until the proper time,” Arkan9 said. “Shall we sit?”

Brandon let go of his arm. He was a little hurt by that revelation. Arkan9 sat next to Mip7, took a sip of coffee, and thanked him for it. Brandon slowly retook his seat.

“We?” Olut6 said. He looked back to the closed door.

“Yes General,” Arkan9 replied. “I am here with a …friend.”

“Is he still in the other room?”

“Yes, General. But—”

“Well, don’t leave him in there. That’s rude.” Olut6 stood and walked to the door.

“General,” Mip7 said.

But Olut6 opened the door. A bright light surged forth from it, filling the room and blinding everyone. Before Brandon went blind, he thought he saw the outline of a humanoid, a sort of stick figure in the middle of the light. But it might have been his imagination.

Olut6 closed the door again and stood in place. Several minutes went by while everyone recovered from blindness, and then several more minutes before anyone in the room felt normal enough to talk again. When they did, Olut6 spoke first.

“Who’s your companion?”

“A new friend of the Milurians. From a race of beings not known in the Erobian Sphere. To clarify, General—they live in the sphere, but are not known in it.”

“His light is …unapproachable,” Olut6 said.

“Well stated, General.”

“How is it that you can approach it?”

“Those with Erob blood have a natural affiliation with bright light. It is not so unapproachable to us, nor would natives find it quite so unapproachable if they sought a deeper connection with Erob law."

“Your friend’s affiliation with bright light—he is responsible for the light weapon which destroyed the attacking ships?”

“Correct, General.”

“And the Dirg fleet that attacked the Latians above Milura?”

“Yes. We were on board the salvage vessel when that attack began.”

Arkan9 appeared normal again and Brandon sensed that everyone’s eyes had finally readjusted. Hopefully, that door would stay closed for the rest of the meeting.

“Can you explain the technology?” Olut6 asked. “How does it utilize the space station—and the old Azaarian warship hull—as a conduit, without damaging the structures?”

Arkan9 thought for a few seconds before responding.

“I’m not certain
technology
is the proper way to categorize the energy you ask about. It is a reactive energy, applied with both justice and mercy.”

Olut6 frowned. “Look, Sheen—”

“Why do you call me that?” Arkan9 said. “Can you not address a visitor with proper respect? Do you still practice racial bigotry in your heart, after all this time?”

Silence in the room.

“I’m sorry,” Olut6 finally said. “I ask your forgiveness, and that you would consider the fact I’m under a lot of stress at the moment.”

“Certainly,” Arkan9 said. “Your apology is graciously accepted. Let neither of us think on it again. Now, to answer the next ten questions you are about to drill me with. It is simply not possible for the energy source you refer to as a light weapon to be explained or shared. Further, it is not something that can be harnessed and employed as a weapon of war. You may as well forsake all such notions. We are leaving shortly, and you will need to attend to your own defenses.”

“Leaving?” Brandon said. “You just arrived! Come spend some time with me on Banor first.”

“We’ve been here several days now. Our business is complete. And the time for leisure is over, I’m afraid, for all of us.”

Olut6 shook his head.

“Something wrong, General?” Arkan9 asked.

“I know how this goes with you people—no disrespect intended. You show up, do a few fancy tricks, give us some deep-sounding philosophical advice, and then leave. And I fear I still won’t have any answers.”

“You have more answers now than an hour ago, General. Several hours from now, you will have even more. But answers only partially solve problems. What you do with them, how you apply them in your important decisions—that is how solutions are derived. You are a wise leader who chooses his friends well. I have much faith in your ability to save Tora.”

“What’s left of it, you mean,” Olut6 said.

“No. All of it. The struggle is far from over. The fate of Tora lies in the balance. Half of Tora can neither be saved nor lost. All of Tora will triumph or fall.”

“Fall to what?”

“The infection, of course.”

“You mean the game.”

“The game is only a manifestation of the infection, General. You have seen how some members of your population are able to resist the allure of the game. But everyone is vulnerable to the infection represented by it. And now you also see how widespread the infection has become. Do not think Tora is alone in this struggle. All races in the Erobian Sphere are affected, perhaps the entire galaxy.”

“Is Milura infected?” Brandon asked. Olut6 and Mip7 both shot him strange looks.

Arkan9 glanced at the closed door to the adjoining room and said, “No. We have a natural defense. It’s why Erob blood is drawn there.”

“May we have the geographical location of your friend’s home world?” Olut6 asked.

“No, General. It wouldn’t do you any good, and could possibly cause you to misdirect your focus.”

“Arkan9,” Brandon said, “why did you come?”

Arkan9 looked at Mip7 and smiled. “I came with a warning, because my heart remains in Tora, even if my soul now makes its home at Milura. Imagine my delight at being received by a new space station governor who turned out to be my old, dear friend.”

“A warning?” Brandon said. “About alien attacks?”

“I suppose that is partially accurate.”

“Do you know who they were?” Olut6 asked.

“Yes and no, General. They are a new enemy in the present age. A formidable one, I feel. But the force which drives them is not new. It is almost as old as the cosmos. Worry not over their technology, for technology can easily be matched—especially when inspired by defense needs. Think back to ancient times and the Torian wars of old as unavoidable schooling—just as every underdeveloped world must experience. The dark forces are always of the same motive: To take freedom from others, and see their own will imposed in its place. Seeking power has always been the disease that slaughters multitudes. It is a great wonder, to those of us who find bright light approachable, how intelligent beings could acquire an obsession to see the will others come under the dominion of their own. But dark forces are not compatible with light, so we do not understand their motives. We only understand that their motives exist, and are threatening.”

“This isn’t helping,” Olut6 said.

“It would help if you would listen with your heart and not only your ears. I feel the division of Tora has reached a critical point. Amulen has collapsed. Banor has not. The force which took Amulen will not be so easily satisfied. Even now, I feel a temporary resurgence of Amulen being formed. It has sunk as far as the darkness is willing to take it by itself, and thus is ripe for regrouping. But what form will it take? You must be careful what you allow to develop there.”

“It is a Sheen who is organizing a new federation there,” Olut6 said.

Arkan9 cocked his head. “Sheen do not seek positions of power. We are content with spiritual pursuits, and influencing society in a morally-strengthening way.”

“This one’s different,” Brandon said. “Started a new Sheen order, it seems. Proclaims to be pursuing galactic peace.”

“An admirable objective,” Arkan9 said. “But peace is a popular selling point that evil dictators use to seduce nations and gain power. How does this new order set themselves apart?”

Brandon thought for a second. “Well, they’re politically active, and involved in the production and distribution of both agriculture and basic industry. Oh—and they wear red cloaks.”

“What is your feeling towards them?” Arkan9 asked.

“Mixed. I find I don’t naturally trust them. But their leader talks a good game, and comes across as inviting and transparent, rather than reclusive and secretive.”

Arkan9 nodded. “You noticed the aliens attacked both Banor and Cardinal-4, but not Amulen?”

“Yes,” Brandon responded. “But let’s face it—Amulen offers no worthwhile targets. They have nothing there of any perceivable threat or value, as you pointed out. Why would invaders waste ammunition on senseless slaughter and destruction?”

Olut6 chimed in. “There’s at least half a dozen significant-sized alien fleets in orbit there, which may have acted as a deterrent.”

“None of which came to your aide,” Arkan9 pointed out.

“No,” Olut6 growled.

“To be fair, though,” Brandon said, “we only appealed to one of them for help.”

Arkan9 shot Olut6 a quizzical look.

Olut6 simply grumbled. “Worthless. All of them. Especially that extat Belle-ub.”

“That’s the red Sheen leader?” Arkan9 asked.

“Yes.”

Arkan9 stood. “You have much to consider. I urge you all to think on my words. General, be careful in your alliances. Appearances can be deceiving. This advice works both ways. Stubbornness makes a poor partner. Wisdom appreciates reproach. Those who confess their weakness and strive to improve will find victory more often than those who harden their hearts and feed on self-righteousness.”

He then turned to Brandon. “Remember the old ways. The law, the study of the law, finding delight in the study of the law. What survives, when all else dies? The law will survive, and rocks cannot be rattled. When adversity presents itself, think back to the old ways and find renewal there. In this manner you can overcome evil which arrays itself in liberality.”

“Must you go now?” Brandon said. He stood. Mip7 and Olut6 did also.

Arkan9 smiled. “Yes. That doesn’t mean you can’t come visit me someday. You will be well-received. Bring your family.”

Brandon nodded. “I’d like that.”

“How are you travelling?” Olut6 asked.

“The usual way.”

“That landing craft in the lower hangar?”

“Yes, General. We arrived in that.”

“The missing transport ship from 25 years ago. The one you migrated in. Is that what you’re using?”

Arkan9 looked at Mip7 briefly before answering the General. It occurred to Brandon that he seemed he was expecting trouble from his answers.

“Yes, General. As a matter of fact, that is our ship. It should be approaching the station as we speak.”

“Why did it vanish from our scopes?”

“Fancy Sheen tricks, General. When’s the last time you looked for it?”

Olut6 shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. That’s Torian military property. I can’t let you take it again. It must stay here. And it’s long, long overdue for maintenance.”

“We’ve been able to handle the maintenance on both crafts ourselves, General—with a little help.” Arkan9 glanced at the closed door to the adjoining office and stepped closer to it. “We’ve even done some …slight modifications.”

“That makes it stolen Torian property,” Olut6 said.

Mip7 spoke. “General, let them have it.”

“No, Governor. And I have a few private words for you, too.”

“How would you propose we get home?” Arkan9 asked.

“Not my problem.” Olut6 then straightened up and spoke in a calmer voice. “But favors can be arranged, seeing as your visiting friend was so helpful in the recent battle. I imagine we can arrange for your transportation, as soon as we have a reasonable level of normalness restored here.”

Arkan9 bowed. “I’m sorry, General. Waiting for normalness is a fool’s dream. We must leave now.”

Arkan9 opened the door and everyone went blind. Brandon felt his way back to the table and sat down. It took at least fifteen minutes this time before he could see again. When he could, Olut6 was still up and had his hand on the door handle to the adjacent room. Mip7 was sitting. Arkan9 and his mysterious friend were gone.

Ten minutes later, the three of them stood in Mip7’s office and watched an illuminated saucer move from the lower hangar of Cardinal-4 to an unnaturally-bright football-shaped Torian transport ship. Olut-6 held his O-tube to his face.

“No,” he said. “Let them go.”

The landing craft entered the open hangar doors of the glowing transport ship. It then surged with light, becoming almost too bright to look at. They watched the hangar doors close. A few minutes later, the ship repositioned itself. Brandon imagined the transport ship’s dag was probably lit by now, but you couldn’t tell inside all that bright light.