Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move (3 page)

A large, slightly-lighter skinned Amulite emerged from the group and sat down where Jumper’s now-deceased opponent had been. He turned off the game frame and sorted the pieces. One of the armed natives then stepped forward towards Jumper and Alan.

“You will now play our champion,” he said, motioning at Jumper with the small laser weapon in his hand.

“Man, we never should have told them you were the Earth colony champion,” Alan muttered.

“I don’t understand,” Jumper said to the big Amulite before them. “Why did he kill himself? What is this? Where we come from, this is only a friendly game.”

“Polwar is a serious affair,” the armed native replied. “You chose to come up here, uninvited. You claim to be a champion. You will now defend your claim, and play our way.”

“What happens if I lose? Can we go back down the mountain afterwards, and leave peaceably?”

The native shook his head. “You must have proper motivation to play, or it’s not a real game. We play for real.”

Jumper felt Alan grab his upper arm, restraining him. They both looked back down over the precipice.

“Come, play,” the threatening native said. “Or else the only way down is the same way your last opponent went.”

Jumper looked at Alan—who shrugged and pointed down. “Like you said, it’s why we came up here.”

“Right.” Jumper dove off the cliff without further ado. In a few seconds, his freefall was jostled by a hand grabbing his ankle. He looked up at Alan.

“Let go, you fool! The suits are magnetically repelling. We can’t be this close together!”

But it was too late. When Alan released him, their bodies were pulled together in the air and they spun uncontrollably.

“I thought you said repelling!” Alan yelled.

Jumper managed to untangle their limbs as the rushing cliff side behind them turned black, and then something must have kicked on in the suits—because he and Alan shot away from each other. Jumper was no longer falling vertically but propelling sideways. He adjusted his body to a flying position and felt his horizontal thrust find equilibrium with the force of gravity. He then settled into a gentle ebbing, back and forth, which is what—he was pretty sure—the suits were supposed to do. At least, that’s how they felt on the small slopes in the foothills.

Looking back across the mountainside, Jumper could see Alan in the distance, now slowly swaying as well. The sensation was like swinging back and forth in a hammock that was slipping down the trunks of the two trees it was fastened to. A feeble laser beam from up in the mountains then shot in Alan’s direction, probably for spite, as they were now well out of range. The float suits’ delayed activation turned out to be a blessing.

They eventually both reached the ground. Jumper’s landing was soft, but he knew he had a long walk in front of him so he started jogging. When he caught up with Alan, the two of them hiked back to the lower foothills of the Sinlo Mountains where they left their mid-range cruiser.

When they got there, however, it was gone.

“Are we sure this is where we parked it?” Alan asked as he looked about the darkening hills.

“Yeah,” Jumper said. “Extact. I knew we should have hidden it better. That brushy area up on the knoll there would have tucked it completely out of sight. Stupid, lazy mistake. Now we’ll have to camp here for the night.”

“Um, that clump of bushes you pointed to is moving. Are there dogs in these hills?”

Jumper looked again and saw the unnatural rustling in the brush. “I don’t think so. There might be some zaboar around here, but whatever’s moving those branches is too big. Could be a large bird or a stray yuquin, which would be a stroke of luck. We better check it out.”

Jumper motioned for Alan to approach on the left while he came about the right. The front bush shook erratically as they came near and then stopped. Whatever it was had moved into the small clearing behind it. Jumper signaled to Alan and they both came around from opposite sides at the same time.

It wasn’t a bird or a yuquin. They were facing a native; a rather small, bright, silver-skinned Amulite. He was crouched on the ground as if ready to spring up and run, frantically looking back and forth between Jumper and Alan. They had his only exits blocked, as the groundcover was thick behind him. Jumper noticed Alan also looked ready to scramble on a second’s notice.

“Did you take our cruiser?” Jumper asked. “It was parked right down there.” He pointed.

The Amulite cocked his head at Jumper and stayed in place. Finally he said, “Earthlings?”

“That’s right. My name is Jumper and my friend there is Alan2.”

The Amulite stood and slowly made his way over to Jumper, looking him up and down in the fading moments of daylight. Alan came up behind him. The Amulite turned and studied Alan for a minute before facing Jumper again.

“Young Earthlings?”

“Correct. I am 24 and my friend will be 23 next month.”

“Almost didn’t live to see it,” Alan mumbled.

Jumper ignored him. “Are you one of them?” He motioned toward the mountains.

The Amulite looked up before answering. “Are there really Torians who live up there?”

“I guess not then,” Jumper said. “Yes—we met some of them today. They didn’t exactly make us feel welcome.”

“Pretended to be friendly at first,” Alan said. “Are you friendly?”

The Amulite bowed. “Tulros. I am Hol4, a native of this continent. I’m considering climbing into the mountains tomorrow and seeking out whatever community may be there.”

“Hope you’re good at polwar,” Alan said.

Hol4 cocked his head for a second. “Oh, the game. Yes, that’s what they call it. I had forgotten.”

“You don’t want to go up in these mountains if you’ve forgotten about polwar,” Alan said. “Or even if you haven’t. They’re a bit …fanatical up there.”

“Who can forget the game?” Hol4 said while looking to the opposite horizon. “I simply forgot its name, as I don’t play. But we all know the game. It’s is why we are segregated, and why we must work as we do. Work that is difficult for the few who now supply the many. Or else there wouldn’t be enough food. ”

“Oh,” Jumper said. “You work in the agritents?”

“Yes. Or at least, I did.”

“Those are in the north, on the high plains, right?” Jumper asked. “We’ve never gone out that far.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you never do. The tents are no longer restrained to the north, as production needs have caused them to spread down into the lowlands.”

“So, have you seen our cruiser?” Alan interjected. “It’s a mid-ranger. We left it right down here on this slope.”

Hol4 shook his head. “Sorry. There were no vehicles here when I arrived an hour ago.”

“Well, we better make camp for the night,” Jumper said. “It’s getting dark. Please join us. We have some dried fish we can share, and there’s a creek up the trail a ways where Alan can fetch us water while I build a fire.”

Hol4 looked alarmed when Jumper said the word fire, but he hesitantly agreed.

*

If there was one thing Jumper enjoyed, it was showing off his survival skills. He hummed to himself as he gathered wood, sticks, and dry brush. He started a fire by rapidly spinning a stick upon a piece of bark within a clump of dry brush, and adding twigs after it caught. As the flames gained strength, he put the smaller wood pieces on. When the fire was hot enough, he added some cortzye stones he found—there were many in the area—and piled bigger wood pieces on top. Hol4 kept looking about as the fire grew bigger. There was something furtive about his uncomfortable fits, but Jumper decided not to pester him about it.

Alan wasn’t a novice camper, either. One couldn’t be if they were Jumper’s best friend. He came back with three full water pouches he made from folding freshly-picked leer tree leaves. Jumper then fastened two green sticks together to make a tong that could hold a hot cortzye stone long enough to swirl around in the water pouches for a few seconds, sending brief billows of steam from each of them.

“Hard to believe we now need to sanitize water,” Hol4 said before taking a drink. “For thousands of years it’s been clean and safe to drink straight from the ground.”

“At least you don’t need skin protection,” Alan said. “The dissipation of the upper firmament is causing skin problems for humans—especially those of us with lighter complexions. These days, we have to apply chemicals before going outside for long periods, or else wear protective gear. My mom says Earth was like that, but she never had to worry about it on Amulen before, and now it’s worse here than it ever was on Earth. Soon the remaining population of Amulen humans may have to move to Banor.” He looked up at the night sky. “Not that there’s many of us left here.”

Hol4 turned his gaze from Alan to Jumper. “Why isn’t your name numerically designated, as your friend’s?”

Before Jumper could answer, Alan laughed and said, “His father doesn’t like numbers in the names. So he named him something nobody else is ever going to name their kid. You should hear what his full name really is.”

“Only if you want your nose rearranged,” Jumper said to Alan. “And some humans on Banor do name their kids the Earth way, without numbers, from what I understand.”

“Maybe so,” Alan said. “We’ll find out firsthand if we’re forced to move there.”

Jumper took some of the dried fish out of a package he had in his float suit pocket and broke off a sizeable piece to give to Hol4. He accepted it gratefully, and split it with Alan. They all ate. Jumper was thankful his skin was darker than most of his friends, but knew he wasn’t immune from the now-dangerous sun rays either. His dad thought he should grow his hair out as natural protection for his neck, but Jumper didn’t like how bushy it got so he kept it shorter. He must have inherited his thick black hair from his mother.

“Cardinal-4 sure is bright tonight,” Alan said.

Jumper looked up and instantly saw it. “Yeah, wow. That’s something. You know they are renaming it Cardinal-5 when the current construction work is done.”

“Yeah, but how long will that take?” Alan’s tone was cynical.

Jumper shrugged. “Three years. Maybe five.”

“I’d like to go there,” Hol4 said. “To work and live.”

“What about the mountains?” Alan asked.

“What you’ve told me of them is not appealing. I prefer to get away from the games, but without being labeled a deserter of my home continent. A work contract at the station would accomplish that for me.”

“In that case,” Jumper said, “I think you may have stumbled upon the right Earthlings. My dad is good friends with the space station steward.”

Hol4 leaned forward. “You mean the governor of Cardinal-4?”

“Yes,” Jumper replied. “Although, since the station is effectively closed during reconstruction, and the elections there have been halted, my political science professor says ‘steward’ is a more accurate title for him.”

Hol4 kept looking out across the flatlands as he finished his fish. He seemed to be thinking about something important, while still slightly on edge.

“Come with us tomorrow,” Jumper said to him. “I’ll take you to my father, and we’ll see if he can get you connected to a space station job.”

“Who’s your father?”

“He’s a professor of sociology at the university. But his real passion is gadgetry. He’s an inventor and technology researcher. He created these special suits we have on, which give the wearer some anti-gravity capabilities.”

“Some,” Alan said.

“I said some.”

“Your father was one of the frozen research subjects, right?” Hol4 asked. “How has he risen to such prominence in Amulen society?”

“I don’t think it was all that difficult,” Jumper said. “Have you taken a good look at our society lately?”

Hol4 nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear the local university is still in operational status. That’s hopeful.”

Alan began laughing. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it fully operational. We have some professors who are more obsessed with lecturing than any side-pursuit could ever seduce them. They still talk, so some of us go listen to what they have to say, hoping to learn something. But the curriculum is unstructured. There’s no grades, no graduation, the professors don’t keep track of who’s listening, and there is no publicly-recognizable benefit for attending. Extat, we can’t even prove we were there. So ‘position of prominence in society’ isn’t an accurate reference of the professors’ jobs. And Jumper’s dad isn’t exactly famous for his inventions.”

Jumper threw a small rock at Alan, who flinched and shot him a defiant look.

“I’ll go with you, nevertheless,” Hol4 said. “I have nothing else to do, and greatly appreciate your offer. Do you think your immediate ancestor can actually help me secure a work contract at the station?”

Jumper started nodding, but Alan interrupted again before he could respond.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high. His father has never even been to the space station. But you are still much better off coming with us than climbing into these mountains, that’s for sure.”

“Even if my dad can’t get him the job directly, Uncle Brandon can,” Jumper snapped.

“I thought your dad and the prophet weren’t talking to each other,” Alan said.

“Ah, they’ve just been taking a break.” Jumper poked at the fire. “Those two could never stop being friends after all they’ve been through. I bet I can get them to hook up again with only a little push. If not, Uncle Brandon is always happy to see me. I don’t even need Dad. I can take Hol4 to him myself and get him that job.”

“You know the Earth prophet?” Hol4 asked. He suddenly sounded excited.

“Jumper and his dad don’t believe he’s a prophet,” Alan said.

Jumper picked up another rock and aimed at Alan’s head, but managed to regain his composure. He tossed it aside and answered Hol4.

“He’s always just been Uncle Brandon to me. I realize he’s been widely labeled a prophet. My dad says he’s just a human who’s been given more than his share of luck. Personally, I don’t know—and don’t really care, to be honest, although I’ll admit I remain unconvinced that prophets are real.”

“There’s supposed to be a new Sheen prophet,” Hol4 said.