What happens when an advanced race abducts ordinary humans and stores them cryogenically in a galaxy far, far away? Find out in this entertaining, provocative and often humorous twist on alien abduction…

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Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation Book 1)

by Andy Kasch

Revenge is only justice when it can be administered without hatred.

Welcome to the Tora star system, home of the spectacular Cardinal-4 space station overlooking Amulen and Banor, twin worlds that share the same orbit. One visit and you’ll understand why this station is the pinnacle of Torian achievement and a wonder of the Erobian Sphere.

Unfortunately, your timing isn’t great. Many centuries of peace and prosperity are on the verge of collapsing for members of the Erob coalition, as signs of the first interstellar wars loom. The half-breeds tell us it is because we are now forsaking the ancient law, and have thus allowed an evil infection to begin spreading through the galaxy. But those Erob half-breeds have always been a little over-dramatic, haven’t they?

Brandon Foss, an unhappily married Virginian in his early thirties, awakes from a strange dream to discover he has been abducted from Earth and kept in cryonic preservation on Amulen for two decades. One other resuscitated human is with him, a knucklehead who almost seems as alien to Brandon as their reptilian captors. A friendship of convenience forms as the two Earthlings soon become unwittingly intertwined in Torian politics and military affairs — at a time, it turns out, when the Torians desperately need just such intertwining.
5-star praise for Test of Magnitude:

“Loved it…great story, marvelous characters, and great world building…”

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an excerpt from

Test of Magnitude
(The Torian Reclamation)
by Andy Kasch

Copyright © 2014 by Andy Kasch and published here with his permission

Amulen Chancellor Renal5 closed the door to his office. There was a lobby full of people to see him—governors, his political advisors, military commanders, contractors, astronomers, and several scientists—but they would all have to wait. It was overwhelming, and he needed a little breathing space.

He sat down behind his desk and looked out the window. If he never turned toward the wall in his office, this could be a nice evening, except for one thing. Now that dusk had fallen, the light from Cardinal-4 could be seen in the sky. It was an ominous reminder that all was not well in Tora.

Renal5 turned and looked at the video screens on his wall. One was a static picture of the damaged side of the space station. What a horrible mess. Who could have ever anticipated this kind of thing happening? It didn’t make any sense. There had never been an interstellar war in the Erobian Sphere, and there was no logical reason for this attack. The invaders had accomplished nothing except vandalism and petty abductions, from the looks of it.

The two other screens on the wall were showing live camera feeds of the damage on Banor. The first response crews and reporters were just now beginning to assess the scope of it. That’s where the High Chancellor had gone, to meet with Banorian Chancellor Gormin8 and survey the scene. There’s another thing that made no sense. The abductions didn’t include political leaders or anyone important, as far as they could tell from the early reports. So far, it seemed the damage was limited to two medium-sized cities and one small rural village. The cities were hit with missiles, but the village was attacked with ground troops wielding hand weapons, according to witnesses. There was nothing of appreciable value in the village, just some old religious relics. No sense whatsoever. Thank Erob they hadn’t bothered to attack Amulen.

Two angry voices rose from the lobby and penetrated the wall of Renal5’s office. They grew louder, until they were shouting at each other. Couldn’t he have a few moments of peace? Renal5 reopened his door and saw two military commanders getting in each other’s faces.

“You tell me, General, because I don’t know!” one of them yelled. Renal5 recognized him as Commander Olut6 from Cardinal-4. He had just arrived and was fuming at the High General.

“Comrades, please,” Renal5 said. “Come in. Let’s discuss this calmly.”

Neither of them moved or even acknowledged Renal5. They just stood in place while Olut6 continued his rant.

“Holes blown everywhere, systems failing all over the station, more than twenty civilian casualties and I’ve got four dead pilots. No help. No help at all.”

“You had help, Commander,” the general replied. “Lots of help. We came.”

“You weren’t there! We were alone! The extat battle went on for millennia before we got any help! We were dying up there, and got no response from the fleet!”

“It wasn’t that long. You’re exaggerating again.”

“Comrades!” Renal5 yelled. “In my office!”

Now they turned and looked at him. Renal5 realized neither of them had ever heard him raise his voice before.

“Please,” he said in a calmer tone.

They followed Renal5 into his office, but the tension between them could still be felt. Renal5 closed the door behind them. The three of them stood for a moment and watched the latest shots of the destruction from Banor on the video screens.

Renal5 removed a small box from one of the shelves and opened it. There was a bottle inside, and four tubes.

“Perhaps we should all settle down and have a drink. This is Blackflower-20, a very rare batch.”

“No, I don’t want an extat drink!” Olut6 said. “I want explanations!”

“You are upset because of the slow response time from the ground,” Renal5 said.

“Slow? You call that slow? We got pulverized, and were left to fend for ourselves, until the extat thing was nearly over. Slow is not the right word. Non-responsive. Why was the fleet non-responsive?”

Renal5 set the box on his desk. “To be clear, Commander, help did arrive. Pilots from the main fleet did scramble and participate, in considerable numbers, and some of them shot down missiles, I understand, which otherwise may have hit the station. The help arrived late, but it did arrive.”

Olut6 grumbled something unintelligible and walked over to the window. This kind of level-headed diplomacy is what kept Renal5 in office. He loved it, truth be known, and began to feel reenergized.

“However,” Renal5 continued, “we must concede that it was quite late in arriving. General, what is the reason for that?”

“When the High Chancellor asks me that question, then I will answer it,” the general replied.

Renal5 chose to ignore the disrespectful comment and said, “There is some flaw in our emergency response procedure, then?”

“No, there is no flaw in our procedures,” the general said, “but we do have our priorities. The security of the planets, and in particular the central Torian government here on Amulen, is top priority. Should it not be so?”

Olut6 turned back from the window. “The attackers never approached Amulen! They were all out in front of us! We managed to get one of them, thank Erob, and the remaining enemy forces then divided themselves between us and Banor—which your fleet ignored when it did show up! Security of the planets? We were half blown apart by the time you arrived, and you left Banor alone to be invaded after you finally managed to scramble! If those are your priorities, you better tell your pilots. What in Erob were you guys really doing down here?”

The general raised a finger at Olut6. “You had better watch your tone, Commander, or you might find yourself back down here with us, in charge of food transportation!”

“Friends, please,” Renal5 said. “Commander, I will remind you that you are addressing the high command, and your superior. General, I will ask you again to give a reason for the delay in your response.”

“In my official report to the High Chancellor,” the general said, “I will make mention of miscommunication issues resulting in a slight delay in our response time to the request for help from Cardinal-4—but will maintain that military priorities directed us to first assess and attend to the security of the central government.”

“What kind of miscommunication issues?” Renal5 asked.

“I will answer that question when the—”

“High Chancellor asks it,” Olut6 interjected. “Slight delay? The records will show an inexcusable lapse of time after at least seven emergency distress calls. That better be one heck of a communication failure.”

“Watch yourself, Commander,” Renal5 said. The general seemed to appreciate that. At this point, Olut6 was in danger of losing his command as a result of an unrestrained temper. That would be bad for everyone. He was a cooperative military commander, and he had, after all, managed to destroy a large enemy warship.

Olut6 responded by walking in circles and shaking his head. He began muttering, as if talking to himself, but loud enough so he could be heard.

“Extat invaders. They had us, too. Our defense plan was inadequate. The entire station might have been destroyed, and maybe I wouldn’t even be here to complain right now, if it wasn’t for that extat alien pilot misappropriating one of our fighters! Whole extat thing is insane. Insane.”

“What do you mean, alien pilot?” the general asked.

“Yes, an alien. Said he was a …Earthling, if I remember right. Mushy, soft-skinned thing. Extat Earthling could out-fly and out-shoot the best of ours. Had better skills and more courage, too. Made us all look like we were sleeping. Craziest thing I ever saw. Shot down seven missiles by himself on one dive, and six on another, all while dodging friendly fire. He even got hit by friendly fire, but kept at it, picking off missiles like he was in a shooting gallery. Then he made a reckless run right at the warship, alone, dodged all the incoming fire and took out one of their batteries with one shot. Got away clean. If it wasn’t for that extat alien…”

Olut6 stopped circling and stood before Renal5.

“His heroics rallied our boys behind him, and finally scared the attacking warship off. I understand you have a bunch of these Earthmen on ice back at the Science Complex. Get me a dozen more like him and I’ll give you one squadron that can defend all of Tora.”

“That is most ludicrous thing I have ever heard suggested,” the general said.

Renal5 cocked his head and tried to comprehend the information Olut6 had just given. An Earthling was the hero of the space battle? No, that couldn’t be. Suddenly, a string of memories flashed across Renal5’s mind. That mysterious Sheen, Arkan9. He predicted all of this, didn’t he? Renal5 had sent him off to Governor Stugin2, and then granted him permission for a science research project, mostly out of fear when he came to realize Arkan9 had somehow come into possession of confidential details about Renal5’s private life. Maybe that wasn’t just political blackmail after all. Renal5 had subsequently terminated his project after coming under pressure from the director there, who had successfully lobbied support from the High Chancellor and the C2 governor.

The two military commanders stopped bickering and were now watching one of the video screens, which was broadcasting live footage of the village that had been invaded by alien ground forces. Renal5 picked up his lightpad and turned up the volume up on that screen.

“Again,” the newscaster said, “what you are witnessing is the scene from Uden, the Sheen colony that many Torians visit at a child in level-5 or level-6 education. In fact, the students were scheduled to begin arriving at the camp here next week. Obviously, those trips have now been cancelled. Eyewitnesses report that although no resistance was offered, the invaders still destroyed a section of the village with hand weapons, and killed at least twelve residents here in the attack. They then rounded up prisoners, and apparently have stolen at least one ancient religious relic kept here by the Sheen. More than fifty residents are missing and presumed abducted, mostly Sheen, but several native Torians as well, and also one alien who is said to be a fugitive research subject escaped from the Amulen C2 Science Complex.”

Olut6 turned to Renal5. “Another Earthling?”

“Most likely,” Renal5 said. “That village is where the Sheen is from who was in charge of them.”

“How many have been revived?” Olut6 asked.

Renal5 shook his head. “Those were the only two, as far as I know. That Sheen is impressive, let me tell you. He convinced us to let him undertake the project of reviving them. I remember now, he predicted all of this, and said an interstellar war was coming, which would be disastrous unless these abducted aliens were resuscitated. He was …convincing in his abilities, so we let him have his fun for a while, but I had to shut him down when it caused a disturbance at the Science Complex.”

The newscaster on the video screen continued.

“Also abducted was a Sheen by the name of Arkan9 who is highly revered in this colony. According to our sources here, he was in the process taking the ancient prophet tests, and was widely expected to soon be the first confirmed Sheen prophet in over 300 years.”

“Is that your Sheen?” Olut6 asked.

“Yes. Extat.”

“So,” the general said as he turned back around to face Renal5, “we have destruction and abductions. Both which seem petty and worthless to us—but they must mean something to the invaders. We have witnesses who saw their ground troops. That means we can identify them. The next question is, do we pursue them and attempt to rescue the hostages?”

“I’m afraid public outcry will demand it,” Renal5 said.

“Yes,” Olut6 said, “they probably will. But the public doesn’t fly ships or fight in battles. There are serious tactical considerations in such an undertaking. We couldn’t stop them here, and going after them in their own space would be much more problematic.”

The general nodded and agreed, which was refreshing. Maybe these two commanders wouldn’t actually kill each other in Renal5’s office today.

“Then fill me in, please,” Renal5 said. “I’m the one who will have to explain why we are unable to launch a rescue effort. What exactly are the difficulties?”

“Assuming their numbers are not significantly greater,” the general began, “the primary problem lies in transporting fighters. The interstellar fleet is not big enough to bring more than 10% of our fighter fleet, if that, especially considering landing craft will also have to be brought along.”

“Perhaps you don’t need that many fighters,” Renal5 said. “A rescue attempt is not an assault force.”

“It would be plenty if we had pilots who can fly and shoot like that Earthling,” Olut6 said.

“In any case,” the general continued, “we can’t plan a campaign until we know what we are up against. Where the hostages are, what size force is holding them, and whether a sneak rescue attempt is even feasible. We’ll have to wait for the astronomers to get us that information.”

“I have two waiting in the lobby,” Renal5 said. “Should I have them come in?”

“No,” the general said. “They don’t know anything yet. However, there is a propulsion scientist in your lobby, Director Lan2. He’s been working with us on a classified project which may become very useful now. Why don’t you bring him in?”

Renal5 summoned the scientist from the lobby. He came into the office and was introduced by the general. They all exchanged greetings.

“Tell them about the ITF1,” the general said.

Lan2 activated his lightpad and tapped on it after glancing at the main video screen on the wall. The big screen changed images as Lan2 assumed control of it. A picture of a spaceship now displayed, the design of which was unique. It appeared to be an interstellar ship, as it had a distortion field generator around the outside, although a much smaller one than Renal5 had ever seen before. Indeed, everything about the ship was sleek, like a fighter craft would be. Forward weapons were mounted on the sides of the cockpit and from a gun turret underneath. There was also a rear upper turret of some kind.

Lan2 spoke. “This is a new, secretly-developed military craft, the Interstellar Transport Fighter. The prototype was developed several years ago, and the actual working models have recently begun small-scale production. A minimum crew of four is required for optimal operation of all functions, but it can be flown with limited weapons capability by a solitary pilot if need be, like a regular fighter.”

“How can that thing work?” Olut6 asked. “The dag is so small.”

“It works,” Lan2 replied, “because it is engineered to generate a smaller distortion field, aerodynamically, in accordance with the narrow hull of the ship. To be certain, travel times are considerably slower than those of orthodox transport ships. The ITF1 also has a more limited immediate range due to the compact particle accelerators, but can recharge itself rather efficiently. Theoretically, it can travel the expanse of the galaxy, perpetually, in short hops. Any acquired supply of negative mass particles can be infused in the accelerators and will increase the immediate range, assuming an engineer crew member is on board.”

“What about local propulsion?” Olut6 asked.

“Same technology as our current fighter models,” Lan2 said. “The ITF1 has a much longer range, of course, because of its size. However, it is estimated to be 14% less maneuverable than our standard fighter craft.”  Lan2 tapped his lightpad and a standard fighter appeared on the screen next to the ITF1 for scale. The ITF1 was more than twice its size.

“The reduced maneuvering capacity should be a non-factor,” the general said.

“Why is that?” Olut6 asked. “And why is the 14% figure only an estimate? Haven’t these things been tested? Surely you have developed an accurate simulator, at least.”

“The ships have been tested extensively in simulations,” the general said, “and we have logged more than a hundred hours now in the real machines. These units are a commander’s dream come true, Olut6. Listen to me. You don’t need much local maneuvering. The dag controls are so pin-pointedly acute that you can pop up in front of an enemy ship, fire, turn, and distort away again before they know you are there.”

“Then where the extat were you with these things during the battle?” Olut6 said.

“Easy, Commander,” Renal5 said. He turned back to Lan2. “What’s the rear turret for?”

Lan2 and the general both smiled broadly.

“That is the control pit for the REEP canon,” Lan2 said.

Olut6 cocked his head. “It fires from the rear?”

“Exactly,” Lan2 said. “Should be quite effective against enemy craft up to three times the size of the ITF1. Also good for taking out gun mounts and missile batteries on larger vessels, such as those enemy warships.”

Olut6 shook his head and began walking in circles muttering again. “Unbelievable. What a day. First we get attacked by giant interstellar warships, many times the size of anything we deemed possible to engineer. Who would have thought such a thing could exist? Now I find out we have small interstellar fighters, and those don’t look like they should exist either. New technology everywhere—that I knew nothing about. New technology attacks us, and it turns out we have new technology that could have staved off the attack.”

Renal5 chose to ignore Olut6 and turned to the general.

“How big is this fledgling ITF1 fleet?”

“We have three operational craft at present, with three more on the way that should be ready by…” the general turned to Lan2. “When?”

“They are built and just need the systems tested, General. We can have them delivered in 6 to 8 days’ time.”

“Delivered to where?” Renal5 asked.

“Niptil,” the general answered. “We have them docked at a small station orbiting Niptil.”

Renal5 cocked his head, then straightened it again and nodded. Niptil was the sixth planet in the Tora star system; a rocky, reddish-colored dead planet that was of great interest to physicists because of the atomic structure of some of the rocks.

Olut6 spoke. “That is wise, General. And I see now why it was not practical to engage them in today’s battle.”

The general nodded. “Our boys aren’t quite ready to use them yet, either.”

“What do you mean?” Olut6 said. “One hundred hours logged, they should be surgeons with them by now.”

Lan2 answered him. “We have been disappointed with both the simulation results and the initial drills with the actual craft. It seems we have designed the ships to be capable of more than what Torian pilots are. Reaction times, change of focus, and instantaneous decision making are skills we lag in as compared to many other galactic species. In addition, the configuration of the REEP canon in the rear of the hull results in a small sonic reverberation when fired. This causes the gunners to suffer short lapses in alertness. Occasionally, even the pilots have shown signs of shock from it. Therefore, it is best used as a rear defense mechanism, rather than an assault weapon.”

“I disagree with that assessment,” the general said. “The boys involved in this project have shown great enthusiasm and excitement as a result. Even with the limitations just mentioned, one ITF1 crew can do more in a simulated battle than ten regular fighters.”

“General,” Lan2 said, “if I may be so bold, one properly-crewed ITF1 operating at peak capacity should be capable of more than twice that. In fact, the comparison is spurious. These craft can literally pop in and out of space, appearing for brief moments and firing missiles, lasers, or even REEP repulsion blasts. Erob forbid we should ever have enemies who attack us with similarly-designed ships.”

“Well,” Renal5 said, “if we can design them, others can, too. I suggest assigning a team to begin engineering defense strategies against this type of weapon.”

The general nodded. “That’s already being worked on, Chancellor, but the ramifications are challenging. That’s why the ITF1 project is so encouraging. If there is to be a rescue effort for the Banorian hostages, these new ships are the appropriate tool for the job.”

“Agreed,” Olut6 interjected. “But we had better learn to use them—or get someone who can.”

Lan2 and the general both cocked their heads at Olut6.

Renal5 noticed something new was happening on one of the video screens, so he turned the volume on it.

“We repeat,” the newscaster said, “Banorian authorities suspect the invaders were from Azaar, a world approximately 2,800 light years from Tora towards the outer arm of our galaxy. Formal relationships with Azaar began only weeks ago, when they sent an ambassador to visit Cardinal-4. Could this have been an act of blatant treachery? The description of the invaders given by eyewitnesses matches the images of the Azaarian species recently added to the Torian galactic registry. Further analysis of the design of the attacking warships bears an architectural resemblance to the design of the Azaarian transport ship which arrived at Cardinal-4 just weeks before the attack.”

“Looks like they are on to the enemy already,” Renal5 said.

The general shook his head. “The arrogance. A feigned act of diplomacy, followed by a vicious, outright attack. It makes no sense, especially if they didn’t bother to disguise themselves.”

“It’s up the astronomers now,” Renal5 said. “If Banorian intelligence is correct, we could have the location of the hostages discovered fairly quickly. I think you two have some work to do.” He motioned to the general and Lan2, who then looked at each other and nodded.

Lan2 disconnected his lightpad. He and the High General bowed before Renal5 and said “Tulros.”

“Tulros,” Renal5 said. “Keep me constantly updated, please.”

The High General and Director Lan2 left the office.

Commander Olut6, however, sat down in front of Renal5.

“Chancellor.”

“Yes?”

“Get me two dozen more of these Earthlings. Males in early adulthood.”

“Commander—”

“Just do it. I’ll handle the High General.”

Renal5 sat quietly for a moment, reflecting upon everything that happened today. The space battle. The treachery from Azaar, if that’s really who it was. The damage to Cardinal-4 and the pending cost to repair it. The dead citizens and soldiers. The hostages. Then there was that abducted Sheen, who, not surprisingly, is suddenly supposed to be a new prophet. The things Arkan9 had said before were difficult to dismiss now, foreboding as they may have been at the time. Perhaps if everyone had paid him more heed, today would not have been quite so disastrous.

There was still a lobby full of people to see, and Renal5’s head was starting to hurt. He grabbed the box of Blackflower-20, poured himself a drink, and looked up at Olut6 before recapping the bottle. Olut6 nodded, so he handed him the tube and filled another for himself. They sat and drank in silence.

“All right, Commander. I’ll see what I can do.”