The Ninth: Invasion

by Benjamin Schramm

  “I don’t believe it,” Dante said in surprise as he looked Owen over. “You’ve never mentioned you came from a famous family before.”

  “We don’t like to talk about it much, but I’ve got my own reasons. Not sure how Hiroko would take it if she knew.”

  “Are you kidding?” Dante asked in honest surprise. “She’d probably love the idea of dating a guy from a well-known family, even one with a checkered past.”

  “Wait, you two are dating now?” Brent asked.

  “The two have been thick as thieves since the exams. During training she knocks them down and he fixes them up. ” Dante started chuckling. “They make quite the pair.”

  “You guys are as bad as the girls,” Doug said, sitting on a collapsed bunk.

  “Could be worse.” A lanky trooper spoke whom Brent had a hard time placing. “Penny won’t stop talking about how brilliant Brent is. She and Liz argue constantly about who’d make the best match for him.”

  “So you do speak!” Cain said with a grin.

  “Infiltration training.” The trooper smiled back. “Being a loud mouth isn’t exactly encouraged.”

  “So, do we call you Mr. Sneaky, or do you have a proper name?” Sanderson asked.

  “Oh, I like that!” Cain burst into laughter. “I hereby dub thee Mr. Sneaky!”

  “Frank Springate. Although I don’t really care what you call me. I’m just along for the ride. Penny convinced me to tag along; had no idea I’d be planetside so soon after signing up. Have to admit the Gauntlet was the most fun I’ve seen in years, so overall I’m happy she talked me into it.”

  “I remember you now,” Humphrey mumbled. “That Williams girl introduced you. You certainly don’t make much of an impression. I had nearly forgotten you were part of the squad.”

  “I’ll pass that along to my instructors. In infiltration we call that a complement,” he said with a slight nod.

  “Before someone asks, could we pretend to be men for a minute and not ask him if he has feelings for Penny?” Doug groaned. “This whole focus on relationships is starting to make me sick.”

  “What’s your problem with a little investigating?” Cain asked with a grin. “Don’t tell me you’ve got some kind of unrequited love or something.”

  “Don’t make me barf,” Doug groaned more than said. “I’ve been in the same division as Liz and Marie for far too long. After that morning when Brent met the pair, they haven’t stopped talking about it. Before long, he was all my division talked about. Rumors they’d heard about what he’d done and possible parings. The entire division was reduced to little schoolgirls playing gossip and matchmaker. I can’t take it any more.” Doug let out a long drawn-out sigh.

  “I knew he was popular,” Humphrey mumbled, “but I had no idea it was that bad.”

  “Tell me, Mr. Sneaky, do you have feelings for the fair Penny?” Cain asked in a feminine voice, obviously taunting Doug. “We are all just dying to know.”

  The squad burst into laughter as Doug started pounding his head against a cockeyed bedpost. Getting settled hardly took any time, as no one dared take out any personal possession in such a run down shack. Leaving the stuffy building, they watched the Protectorates spar for a while.

  “They are giving me an idea,” Cain said at last. “Owen, you said your family was worse than Ronald’s back in the day, right?”

  “Why do you ask?” Owen raised an eyebrow.

  “Did you have any special training? Any secret techniques passed down generation to generation?”

  “You’ve been watching too many 3Ps. We are farmers, not ninjas.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Well, my grandpa would occasionally try to teach us something, but it never made any sense to me, and dad absolutely forbade all fighting. I had to agree to avoid combat training for my dad to even let me sign on to the military. Come to think about it, my dad would probably skin me alive if he knew I went through a combat exam twice.”

  “Then it’s settled. Ronald, how do you feel about a practice match before dinner?”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” Owen protested. “I never agreed to anything like that! Weren’t you listening? My dad would kill me.”

  “Then it is a good thing we are on the other side of the Commonwealth,” Cain said with a devious grin. “Think about it. We already know Ronald is tough. Cassandra told me he once beat the tar out of a trooper from the SW. You are bound to lose, but there’s no shame in being beaten by someone so skilled.”

  “So what’s the point in us sparring in the first place?” Owen asked. “For a bookie, you are doing a terrible job on selling this proposition.”

  “You wound me!” Cain staggered back a step as if physically struck. “Well, we have nothing better to do, and I for one am interested to see exactly how well your family lineage stacks up against Ronald’s.”

  “He does have a point,” Humphrey mumbled.

  “What point is that?” Owen asked, surprised.

  “We have absolutely nothing to do.” Sanderson yawned, still managing to look poised despite it.

  “Fine, I give,” Owen said, tossing his hands up. “But when this is over, one of you is taking on the victor. If I have to entertain everyone, we all have to take turns.”

  “Sounds fair to me.” Doug jumped up and started stretching for a match. “Plus it would be nice to do something besides talking about our feelings,” he added in the same feminine voice Cain had used.

  The squad laughed as Owen hesitantly took up a position opposite Ronald. Ronald took a complicated stance that demonstrated his years of training. Owen tried to make sense of the odd stance, studying the one outstretched arm while the other hung limp with his legs rigid. Owen stood normally, shaking just a bit – suddenly regretting agreeing to the whole thing.

  “Let’s get this makeshift tournament started!” Cain shouted.

  The volume of his voice surprised everyone. Even some of the Protectorates stopped what they were doing in surprise from the sudden burst. Despite what Cain said, neither party moved. Owen and Ronald continued to stare each other down, neither taking a single step toward the other. A small crowd of Protectorates gathered around the idle match.

  “Well, someone do something,” Doug said impatiently.

  Ronald shrugged and moved toward Owen. Owen raised his fists in defense but didn’t move. Cain burst into laughter as they were once again staring each other down, Ronald a single step closer.

  “What’s the commotion about?” Tyra asked, with the rest of the squad following behind her.

  “We’re having an impromptu tournament,” Cain answered with a grin. “If they ever actually start that is.”

  “Is that Owen fighting?” Hiroko asked in surprise.

  Owen took his attention off Ronald for a second as he looked toward the approaching girls. Ronald launched his attack at his distracted opponent. He easily swept Owen’s feet out from under him. As Owen started to fall, Ronald swung his right hand with incredible speed. Brent couldn’t believe his eyes. Owen moved even faster than Ronald had, grabbing the striking fist and swinging himself around. Using his weight as he fell, Owen caught Ronald off balance and forced him to the ground. Ronald hit the ground face first, Owen on his back. Ronald was pinned with his right arm behind his back. Owen was as surprised as Ronald was.

  “Guess I did learn something from gramps after all,” Owen chuckled nervously.

  The squad and the Protectorates stared at him in amazement. As he helped Ronald up, Doug quickly took his place. When their match started, Doug rushed him. Taken by surprise, Owen closed his eyes. In an instant, Doug was pinned on the ground in the exact same fashion. Brent felt a hand on his back. Without warning he was being shoved into the next match with Owen. Cain started the match and Owen tensed. Brent rubbed his chin for a moment, thinking things over. Calmly, he slowly approached Owen. He smiled as he put a hand gently down on nervous young man’s shoulder. Owen looked at the hand confused, completely at ease
. With the hand on his shoulder, Brent casually pushed Owen over. He simply fell on his back without a fight. Cain burst into laughter.

  “What was that?” Hiroko shouted.

  “Leave it to Brent to do something outlandish.” Kindra started laughing alongside Cain.

  “But he defeated Ronald.” Erin was almost shouting in disbelief. “How could Brent just push him over?”

  “Simple.” Brent helped Owen up. “His amazing defense is a reflex. He can’t use it by himself. He has to be taken by surprise for it to work.”

  “How’d you know that?” Doug asked, rubbing his shoulder.

  “It was obvious.” Brent shrugged.

  Most of the squad broke into laughter. The gathered Protectorates didn’t know what to think about what they’d just seen.

  “Okay, who’s up next?” Cain asked.

  The squad exchanged glances.

  “Oh, come on,’ Cain pressed. “Surely someone has the guts to at least try a match with Brent.”

  “I’ll do it,” Doug said.

  “You’ve already had your chance.” Cain shook his head at Doug. “We need a new challenger.”

  “What about Frank?” Penny asked. “Back in the SW he was the best in singles combat.”

  “Perfect! Mr. Sneaky, if you’d please.” Cain gestured toward Brent.

  Penny giggled at the nickname as the lanky trooper shrugged and took his position. Brent used everything he had learned back in the academy to take a solid defensive stance. When Cain began the match, Frank moved with amazing speed. Brent realized in an instant he was completely out matched. Frank feinted to the right as he landed a punch squarely against Brent’s left leg. He backed away from Frank, trying to ignore the pain. Behind his opponent, he noticed a familiar face in the gathering of Protectorates. It was the young boy he had helped. The boy was silently rooting for him, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were turning white. Frank attacked again. The feint was to the right, so Brent moved to dodge a blow from the left. To his surprise, Frank quickly struck his right leg. The feint wasn’t a feint but the real strike. Brent tried to keep his distance as Frank continued to press the attack. He started to notice a pattern as Frank landed one blow after another.

  The feints were random, but Frank always attacked in the same pattern, left, right, left, left, and right – always aiming for the legs. Frank’s torso would shift with incredible speed at the last second as he attempted to keep his true target a secret until the last possible moment. Aiming so low tended to expose Frank’s head. Brent suddenly had an idea. Frank feinted to the left. He knew from the pattern the true attack was coming from the right. He quickly thrust out his left elbow. As Frank shifted his torso to strike at Brent’s right leg, his chin impacted the exposed elbow. Frank let out a yelp of pain as he fell to the ground. Brent spotted the young boy. The boy was on the verge of shouting in triumph. As he helped Frank to his feet, he was still rubbing his jaw.

  “Somehow, I think our tournament is over,” Marie said.

  “Don’t think we’ll find a volunteer after that,” Cain said, unconsciously massaging his own jaw.

  “It’s time for dinner anyway,” Tyra said dejectedly. “I wonder what my mother’s got cooked up for us.”

  “I certainly hope you are referring to the meal itself,” Rhea said.

  Tyra let out a laugh.

  “My mother, cook? I doubt she’d know which side of a spatula to hold.”

  She was still laughing as she led the squad back into the large, ornate structure. The dining room was ridiculously oversized. The ceiling was as tall as the structure itself, with massive hanging chandeliers made from expensive looking jewels. The chairs were made out of wood with intricate patterns. Brent chuckled to himself as he wondered if they were hand made or something similarly outlandish.

  After the last trooper had taken his seat, a fanfare sounded. Horns and drums announced the arrival of the Governor and his wife. The pair sat at the end of the table in two chairs purposely larger than the rest. A plethora of servers appeared out of nowhere, quickly and gracefully dropping off plates of colorfully arranged meals. The troopers, accustomed to the rations on the station, weren’t entirely sure if they were being served food or some kind of artwork.

  “So dear, tell us all about your friends,” Mrs. Lucchesi asked as she gracefully ate.

  The troopers tried to mimic her eating style as they began on the meal.

  “What do you want to know, mother?” Tyra asked coldly.

  “I don’t know. I’m not all that interested in the military myself. Which of them is the strongest?”

  “That would be Cassandra, ma’am,” Cain said, as he intentionally slurped his soup loudly. “She’s easily stronger than most of us combined.”

  “I see. I had thought that would have been Mr. Murdock. How about the bravest?”

  “That would have to be Dante,” Marie said politely. “One time, he was going to take on an entire army of Weavers by himself.”

  “Really? Fascinating. I wonder exactly how Mr. Murdock ranks. How about intelligence? Which of you is the most cunning?”

  “Brent,” the squad said in unison.

  Mrs. Lucchesi was startled by the answer. She surveyed the troopers at the table, trying to guess which one they meant. Brent clamped down on his expression, hiding any traces of his own surprise at the unanimous response.

  “Why are you so interested in my squad mates, mother?” Tyra asked.

  “No reason. Tell me about this Brent person. How exactly has he proven this place?”

  “You have something up your sleeve, don’t you mother?”

  “You caught me red handed I’m afraid. I had hoped your friends would be up to a little game of mine. Something to help me get to know them all better.”

  “Oh, a game!” Cain half-shouted with the blissful grin of an idiot. “I love games.”

  “What kind of game?” Tyra asked suspiciously.

  “A guessing game. You tell me something about one of your troopers, and I see if I can guess which one of them you are talking about.”

  “Why would you want to do something like that? You said you aren’t interested in the military, so why would you want to know about my squad?”

  “That’s simple,” Cain said distractedly, trying to cut through something on his plate. “She’s hoping we’ll give away more than we realize. Once she knows our secrets, she has a measure of control over us. It’s blackmailing basics.”

  “You must be Brent, then,” Mrs. Lucchesi said with a forced smile. “You are rather quick.”

  “Sorry. Nice try, but wrong,” Cain said with a wide grin. “What are the stakes of this little game? Normally I’d play for credits, but in a game like this information is far more valuable than a handful of credits. How about we play for information itself? When you guess wrong, we get to ask you a question.”

  Mrs. Lucchesi eyed Cain cautiously. Suddenly, she let out a laugh that was more of a squeal.

  “No deal. You’d have the advantage. I obviously don’t know you all very well, and if I had to answer a question every time, I’d run out of secrets.” Mrs. Lucchesi sounded more like a bookie than a Governor’s wife.

  “You cut yourself short. I’m sure you have secrets to spare,” Cain said with a small smile. “But I see your point. How about this? When you make a wrong guess, we can ask you a question, but you get to decide if you answer it or not. You can reject up to two questions before you must answer one. Fair enough?” Cain asked.

  Tyra wasn’t sure how to react to the interplay between her mother and Cain. Mrs. Lucchesi thought about it for a moment before nodding.

  “Sounds fair to me, so what’s your question. I did guess incorrectly, after all.” Her mother sounded like she was actually looking forward to the game now.

  “Is this meat or some kind of building material?” Cain asked staring at his knife embedded in the food. “I can’t seem to cut it.”

  Everyone at the table laughed a
t the sudden shift from seriousness. Even Angela was forced to laugh at the joke.

  “Neither, that’s a local delicacy. It’s a kind of hardened bread. You are supposed to dip it in the soup until it becomes soft again. The mixture of flavors and textures is divine.”

  “Now you tell me.” Cain lifted his knife, taking the hunk of bread easily off the table. He dropped both into what was left of his soup. It looked like a harpooned whale swimming in an orange sea. The troopers restrained bursts of laughter at the sight.

  “I suppose it’s my turn now,” Cain said as he waited for the bread to soften. “Let’s see, one of us comes from five generations of farmers.”

  Mrs. Lucchesi studied the table. After a short while she pointed firmly at Owen.

  “You,” she said confidently. “Do you like the life of a farmer?”

  “It’s good clean work. What am I supposed to do now?” Owen asked.

  “You give me a hint about one of your other friends.”

  “Oh, right! . . . Should I say him or her?” Owen cast a glance at Cain.

  “Just say ‘one of us’ Owen,” Cain answered.

  “Okay, one of us switched everyone’s partners on the fourth exam.” Owen chuckled to himself as he remembered the scene. As Mrs. Lucchesi stared at him blankly, he realized she had no idea what he was talking about. “Sorry, ma’am. That was the combat exam. We were dueling sims. Wouldn’t have won without him . . . one of us. Sorry Cain, I blew it.”

  Cain shrugged and Mrs. Lucchesi looked around the table. After a while she randomly pointed at Ronald.

  “Sorry, not me. Do you play this kind of game with all your guests?” Ronald asked idly.

  “Maybe not this one, but ones like it. It’s a sign of a good hostess to keep her guests entertained.”

  “I see. I suppose it is my turn to give you a hint.” Ronald thought for a moment. “One of us nearly bled to death after a heavy-gravity sparring match.”

  Mrs. Lucchesi’s eyes widened and the Governor dropped his spoon into his soup. The troopers were stunned; they hadn’t expected anyone to intentionally bring that up. Mrs. Lucchesi noticed the stunned faces and pointed at Ronald again, the only one without a surprised expression on his face.