Torian Reclamation 2: Flash Move (30 page)

“I’m not sure.
Are
you telling me that?”

“I’m not sure either, Admiral. But it is a possibility. Something to think about.”

Brandon and Olut6 returned from the corridor. The general had a sour look on his face. Brandon prodded him towards the table with an elbow in the back. Jumper smiled. Uncle Brandon was the only person in the galaxy who could get away with that.

Olut6 addressed the Dirg leader. “Admiral…

“Hochob,” Belle-ub said.

“Yes, Admiral Hochob.”

Admiral Hochob looked up at Olut6 and finally stood.

“I wish to offer an…” Olut6 glanced back at Brandon before continuing. “An apology. For two things. First, for not having appealed directly to you for help during the attack. We sent a message to Belle-ub, but I should have had Governor Mip7 contact you directly, since I was aware of the delay when communicating with Belle-ub. Secondly, I apologize for my insinuation that you cowered away instead of coming to our aide, when your aide was never requested. This was wrong of me, and I realize now it was insulting. Please accept my apology.”

Admiral Hochob bowed and the lines around his globulous mouth changed. It struck Jumper as a smile, albeit far from the classic image of one. Perhaps that was a standard-looking smile for the Dirgs.

“I gratefully accept your apology, General. It is profoundly appreciated. It would have been our honor to respond to your distress call.”

“Do you have any knowledge as to the identity of the attackers?” Olut6 asked.

“No, General. But we will review the videos from your broadcast and run them through our database. Also, we will speak to some of the others and attempt to learn what we can. This will be our offer of help, now.”

“Thank you,” Olut6 said. “Any help is appreciated.”

Belle-ub stepped between them. “Excellent. Shall we step out for the ceremony?”

He escorted Olut6 and the three Dirgs back to the terrace. Jumper and Brandon followed behind. Jumper noticed the terrace wasn’t as crowded as before. Belle-ub’s companions weren’t there. The Latians had left, too, along with one other group of aliens that had been in the meeting. Maybe the Dirgs weren’t the only ones feeling insulted.

“How did you ever get the High General to apologize?” Jumper asked Brandon. “And how did you know that’s what the Dirgs were waiting for?”

Brandon grinned. “Intu—”

“…ition,” Jumper said.

“Congratulations to the representative champions.” The audio system amplified Belle-ub’s voice throughout the stadium, which Jumper noticed had now become considerably fuller. All the aliens and natives from outside must have come in for the ceremony. Applause and cheers responded from different places.

“And welcome to the first Amulen Polwar Tournament. Check the brackets on any of the screens or translation hubs throughout the arena to see the first round matchups. Players must be at their assigned tables on time or forfeit the match. You all see the two special game frames in the middle of the field, on both sides of the red veil, where my assistants are now standing. These are the game sets where the semi-finals will be held.” Belle-ub’s two companions were on the field. Each was next to one of the larger game frames on either side of the big red tent. They waved to the crowd. More cheers.

Belle-ub leaned forward against the center rail of the terrace. The cameras were on him. Everyone else had stepped back, at Belle-ub’s request, so he could clearly be seen as he spoke. Both video screens showed him prominently. Most of the aliens from the council had left the terrace to go down into the stands where they could get a better look at whatever was going to be unveiled. Jumper expected it to be some kind of trophy.

“And now,” Belle-ub said, “I suppose you would like to see where the finals will be played.” That was apparently the cue for one of Belle-ub’s assistants, who jogged to the cockpit of the crane that was holding the veil in place and climbed inside. He placed his hands on the controls, and looked up to the terrace. Belle-ub waved at him. Three seconds later the crane pulled the red tent away.

It wasn’t a trophy.

Jumper wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Judging by the silence of the crowd, he figured they didn’t know, either. It was a structure of some sort, a giant square frame with two black leather seats at the bottom of each side that were connected to large, elbow-shaped mechanical arms. The Sheen who was in the crane jumped out and ran back to his companion. The two of them then hurried over to the two black chairs and sat in them. Then, the bottoms of the chairs lit up and the mechanical arms lifted the seats off the ground.

Jumper knew what it was now: a massive polwar game. The crowd gradually became noisy again as it dawned on them as well. The Sheen moved themselves around in the chairs with joysticks, causing the mechanical arms to take the seats in any direction they chose including forwards and backwards. There were large black bins on both sides of the base of the game frame. Jumper could see a shiny brass reflection from objects in the bins. Those had to be the game pieces.

Belle-ub spoke again. “This is the largest polwar set ever constructed.” his voice was booming to the crowd, and their growing enthusiasm could be felt. “The two finalists will play the championship game on this set. My assistants will now demonstrate its operation.”

The frame suddenly lit up with the familiar dull-white energy field that signifies the beginning of a new polwar game. The light then properly retracted to just within the edges of the frame. The crowd cheered wildly.

The Sheen on the near side then used the joystick to “drive” his chair down to the holding bin at the base of the frame. He reached inside and pulled out a curved game piece. It looked to be the size of Jumper’s forearm. The piece securely in his hand, he took the chair up about two-thirds of the distance to the top of the frame, placed it vertically, and let go. It pulled into place obediently. A standard opening move, but seeing it performed on this grand of a scale was impressive. It was also irresistibly captivating. Jumper estimated the size of the frame to be about three times his height. It appeared to be correctly built to scale.

Responding to the roaring spectators, the Sheen on the opposite side moved his suspended chair down to the black bin and acquired a straight piece. It was every bit as shiny and attractive as the curved piece. He then showed off the maneuverability of the mechanical arm and drove to several different places in the frame, teasing the crowd by almost placing it here and there, moving his chair up, over, backwards, forwards, and all around to their squealing delight. He finally let it go in one of the classic defense positions for the first Sheen’s opening move.

They repeated the performance until they each had three pieces in the giant frame, in a fairly standard opening pattern. Were they to continue playing, this was the point where creative variations would be employed, with one opponent forcing the other to react defensively or begin their own offensive pattern. But instead, they brought the chairs to the ground. One of them came to the side of the frame and touched something, turning it off and causing the large game pieces to fall to the field.

“What do you think?” Belle-ub said. The resulting ovation in the stands was deafening. When it had calmed some, Belle-ub continued.

“While the final match is in progress tomorrow, probably about this time of day, silence will be required when the players are studying the game. Only a brief and subdued clamor immediately following a player’s move will be tolerated from the stands. Any lingering noise beyond that will be dealt with quickly and harshly by arena security. This is to ensure fair playing conditions.”

There was a controlled applause response this time.

“Finally, friends, I will ask you to consider the intention of this occasion. It is to promote peace in the galaxy. Some of you arrived here fighting. Let us dispense with unprofitable pursuits such as warfare, which only result in the senseless loss of life and destruction of property. Let us instead compete with one another on the field and settle our differences with honor. As you all know, the winner is entitled to choose their own prize at the expense of any or all others in attendance, including your host. We all agreed to this. If we can come to such an agreement, and honor it, we will have proven that we can exist peaceably with one another, while still allowing for winners to properly enjoy the spoils of well-deserved victory.”

There was still some applause in the seats, but it was much lighter now.

“Unfortunately, there is also a more serious matter to address. As most of you are now aware, Banor was attacked last night. The perpetrators have yet to be identified. The Banorian military, who are our Torian brothers and protectors for the time being, are asking for help. Please review the videos on our general broadcasting channel, and if anyone has any information that may be helpful in identifying the attackers, I ask you to come see me tonight. Your report will be kept confidential, and the information will only be used to further strengthen security for all of us. Thank you and tulros.”

Even less applause as Belle-ub stepped back from the railing.

Olut6 nodded to him in obvious appreciation, and then signaled to his soldiers. He appeared to be leaving.

“Come on,” Brandon said to Jumper. He motioned to Alan, Kayla, and Hol4 as well.

The five of them followed General Olut6 and his three soldiers off Belle-ub’s terrace and out of the stadium. Alan seemed particularly happy to be leaving—the poor guy had been standing out there all this time.

Brandon spoke to Olut6 when they were outside in the parking lot. “Are you at least partially satisfied, General?”

“Extremely partially.” Olut6 held up the tubular computer drive. “I don’t have to study these designs to know the REEP modifications are a lot more complicated than Belle-ub made it seem. I wonder where he found the technicians to do it. Frequency bombardment is a highly specialized field.”

Hol4 suddenly spoke. “Modifying precise magnetic repulsion bursts to widespread frequency disturbance barrages may be a niche science, but it is not difficult to perform using existing REEP defense systems. One only needs to understand the nuances of the waves and bands involved, which are easily chartable with antiquated broadcasting equipment.”

Olut6 stopped in his tracks, causing collisions between the soldiers, Jumper, and Kayla in the resulting chain reaction. He stared at Hol4 the way a felidor sizes up its potential prey before pouncing.

“Who are you,” Olut6 said, “and how do you happen to have this knowledge?”

“My name is Hol4 of the C3 Northern Plains, General. At least, for the last two decades. Before that, I worked for the Amulen military base in the Midlands for two years, prior to its disbandment. That was my first job after graduating from the Technical Institute in the Central Region. I had planned on becoming an electromagnetic energy development technician, but that industry collapsed. I did special work on modifying REEP systems as a possible source of alternative domestic energy. My professor was so impressed by my final thesis that I ended up with a military assignment I never asked for, and didn’t want.” He pointed off to the southern horizon, towards the Midlands. Then he looked up at the afternoon sky. “Now that I’m freed from the agritents, I’m hoping Jumper’s relative here can refer me to a job assignment at Cardinal-4.”

Olut6 smiled, possibly for the first time today.

“Well, today’s your lucky day, son. Also, not so lucky. Your problem is you know too much, in a highly specialized field—and there is suddenly a demand for that training. But your problem is my good fortune. I’ll guarantee you that civilian job on the station, just as soon as you complete an immediate task for me. And I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer. Tora requires your skills, and I need you to come with me.”

Hol4 cocked his head and looked at Jumper. Jumper turned to Brandon in desperation. Was Hol4 about to be forced right back into another unwanted labor contract? But Brandon was feeling Alan’s forehead, and seemed only concerned with Alan.

“You want to bring him to Banor?” Olut6 asked Brandon. He pointed at Alan.

“I was going to, yes,” Brandon said. “But now, there’s a couple things bothering me about that plan.”

“Such as?”

Brandon peeled back the corner of Alan’s eyelid as he spoke. “The only human physicians we have are first-generation Earthlings. They are trained in human medicine, but because there’s never been any illness in Tora, they have no instruments—and no medicine. The physicians of that era were trained to diagnose and then react by prescribing drugs. If they were unable to diagnose, they would typically start prescribing the less-dangerous drugs at random, hoping to get lucky with one of them. Since we lack their familiar diagnostic tools here, and also the availability of any kind of prescription drugs, I’m not optimistic about finding a human doctor who will be of much help.”

“What do we do, then?” Jumper asked. “We have to find a way to help him!”

“Something Arkan9 said keeps popping back in my head,” Brandon said. “He told me to remember the old ways. What survives, when all else dies? I remember my own healing, when I was so close to death. Find renewal in the old ways…” his voice trailed off.